Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Are we really keeping Buttercup?”
“The ship has sailed,” I say with a sigh. “You know we’ll have a pint-sized mutiny on our hands if we don’t.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “If this keeps up, the cats will outnumber the doggos soon. Can’t say I like that math.”
“Cats are better when you’re old, even if we’ve still got a little way to go before that happens.” I grin at him and walk over to start plating up dinner. “Besides, you think we’re going to stop now?”
“I’m not joking about moving if this petting zoo expands.” He pulls a mock-horrified face.
“I mean . . . little Noah hasn’t even had a chance to weigh in yet.” We both know what’s going to happen when he’s older—more animals. Grinning, I hold a hand to my head dramatically and say, “I’m having a vision. I see a hedgehog, an iguana . . . maybe even a house pig in our future.”
“House pig? Like hell,” Brady grumbles, but he’s smiling as I scoop Noah off the ground and take him to the sink to wash his hands.
Freya comes clattering back up to us a minute later, sucking on her hand. I immediately side-eye her.
“What did you do?”
“I just wanted to touch his nose, Mama. But Buttercup doesn’t like to be petted,” she announces.
“Freya!” Brady’s at her side in an instant, kneeling and taking her hand, his sympathy smothering our need to discipline her. Sure enough, two small scratch marks are beading with dark blood. “What did we tell you about touching new animals too soon? Now you had to learn the hard way.”
“Dad, he liked it—at first. He let me touch his face until he didn’t. It doesn’t even hurt!” The tears brimming in her eyes say differently.
“Let’s get you cleaned up before dinner. And you’re not touching Mr. Buttercup for the rest of the evening,” he says.
“Daaaad! No fair.”
“I’ll get dinner on the table,” I say, already wrestling Noah into his high chair.
“Kitty! Kitty!” The little boy claps his hands and bounces.
I ruffle his hair with a tired laugh. It’s going to be a rough few days when Freya isn’t the only one enamored with our new arrival.
Like I said, sweet chaos.
But as I hear Brady talking to Freya about the need to respect animals’ personal space, and Queenie nudges my side, already looking for dinner scraps with her big buttery eyes, I remember how much I love this unruly life we’ve made together.
Brady, the brilliant self-made giant of revolutionary organic pet food.
Me, the crazy cat lady with the best vet clinic in Seattle.
Our wonderful, adorable family.
Who knows where it ends, but there’s no doubt about one thing.
This man will keep blessing me with everything in the long, happy years ahead, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.