This is our cat. His name is Bags.
He is from Africa. But he lives here now. When we went back to Africa last year, my friend - Tori - offered to babysit him. Now he is also Tori’s cat . . . because she fell in love w/him. Which is understandable cuz he’s so lovable. But that is not my story for today. Nope, my story is about Tori (hi, Tori. I do hope you’re speaking to me after this blog cuz I’m still planning on coming out there in 2 weeks!)
At the last minute, we found out from the airlines that Bags would need a shot record for a rabbis shot to land in TX. So Tori (a mother of 5 AMAZINGLY PERFECT KIDS - NO JOKE, ranging in age from around 9 - 16 -- and a wife to a VP at Focus on the Family . . .and just pretty much an all-around perfect-kind-of-gal-herself with a full, full, full schedule) took Bags to the VET in the morning AFTER dropping off another friend’s 14 year old boy (who was staying with them) at the orthodontist. He had flown in from Dallas to go to the orthodontist since they recently moved out here 2 Dallas. Tori got Bag’s shot and then picked up the boy and then took them both to the airport. So far so good. But then: