UPDATE: Welcome to attendees of the Carnival of the Insanities. Come on in, the crazy's fine.
The A/C unit has been replaced, and I'm relatively motivated to work, as soon as I shower and take the delicately ankled one back to the vet for follow-up.
So here's an odd phenomenon to consider: pet hoarding. People, usually older women (but not exclusively) collect stray animals (not always cats) and keep acquiring more animals even to the point of accumulating cadavers. As professionals begin studying this strange and sad behavior, I am facinated by what causes it and what can be done to help. And I applaud the recognition that it's a personal crisis, not mere eccentricity or quirkiness. It doesn't demonstrate generous love for creatures by tragically failing to provide good stewardship and then compounding the error with new animals.
One argument with the article, though. Despite the fact it apparently takes more than a few hundred animals to shock your seasoned control officer, forget the headline, this phenomenon is not ordinary.
When you open your frou-frou coffee, cats from the barista's hoard won't spill out. When you go to the ATM, the teller's cats won't paw you through the cash slot. They won't be lurking in the photo envelopes at the drug store or meowing from every corner of the photocopy room at work. You won't see people with kitty faces sticking out of every pocket at the fish counter of the grocery. No matter how popular you are and how many people you know, you've probably never been invited to a house like the one in this article, thank Jah.
Silly headline, bizarre but true story.