I live with some pretty awesome creatures, I have a boyfriend, a daughter, three cats and a dog. We’re about to embark on a new adventure and buy some chickens too, but not just yet. Boyfriend needs to build them a home first and then we’ll be getting a pair of lovely ladies to fatten up, kill, cook and eat.
I’m joking, of course! I only want them so I can feed on the edible stuff they push out of their va-jay-jay’s, I’m not one for slaughtering living things. Daughter is quite excited to get chickens, she’s already named one Charlie. Apparently, that’s an appropriate name for a chicken, I was thinking more along the lines of Sage and Onion, but they’re not my pets. They’re daughters pets.
So, let me introduce these things I call family,
boyfriend. Moevis. His name is actually Meirion but I call him Moevis, he calls me Fezmond. Make of it what you will.
Awh, such a handsome man. I am indeed lucky enough to have fallen pregnant 3 months into our relationship and bound him to me forever. Although, I think he kind of likes me and I know he’s fond of the sprog so I don’t think he’s going anywhere. Seriously though, he’s lovely, without getting too mushy, I do love him. He’s just great, funny, clever, witty. Sometimes, a bit too clever but then I always know where his boxers are so he knows better than to piss me off. We met in a nightclub and initially I thought he was a bit rude and liked the sound of his own voice too much but he persistently poked me on Facebook until I agreed to go for coffe with him. I’m kind of glad he did though, I’ve never met anyone who can sing ‘you remind me of the babe’ with me, quite like he can. I was fond of him for a bit at the very, very beginning of our relationship, I didn’t really know where things were going. One day, I was watching Beauty and the Beast and he was playing his game, then all of a sudden, just as Lumier started to sing, he downed his handheld gaming contraption and started signing along and dancing! Well if there’s one way to make a Faye fall in love it’s by singing a Disney song. In that moment I decided to keep him and 6 weeks later we were expecting our first child, what a coincidence!
Daughter. Willow Rhisha.
This one is kind of my favourite but I haven’t got chickens yet so I can’t be certain. She’s pretty much a miniature mixture of both me and the boyfriend, inheriting both of our short fuses, patience limitations and ability to create alot of noise using just her vocal chords. Often referred to as my little whump and the inspiration behind my other blog, it’s hard not to like her. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her for tearing her way into the world, swanning in With fully functioning lungs and the ability to give me a headache in 0.5 seconds though. Her personality is pretty infectious, I almost always know when she’s pissed off. Sometimes we bond over mutual TV programmes, often we can be found dancing away to songs from my little pony together but then she also has the attention span of a fish so I’m often left dancing by myself while she incessantly screams at me to change the music. Alternatively, if we’re not dancing, we can often be found crafting together but she kind of sucks at using scissors so I try to do all the crafting alone. She disagrees and rips things anyway. I think that part of her comes from her father though, I’m naturally placid. It’s highly unlikely she got it from me. I think she gets that from me.
Cat number one. Dot.
Let me tell you about this cat. It’s the dullest, most shy and nervous thing I’ve ever come across in my life yet she uses my sofa as a scratch post! The audacity! For such a timid creature, she can often be found braving it and seeing how long it’ll take me to notice her pulling the threads loose along the bottom of the sofa. I’ve given up trying to be honest, she just shoots off with her perfectly manicured cat claws looking all pleased with herself. Not only is she dim but she’s a bit chubby and can’t manuver as well as the others, this thing can manage her way out of the window we specifically leave open just for the cats but can’t get back in, she’s too fat to make the jump. She’s often stood stretched out and crying by our living room window so I will let her in. More often than not I just stand and point at the fat bitch while she begs me to let her in Climb In The window if you want to get in so bad, stupid cat! Aside from her sheer lack of sense, this weirdo sleeps in the most awkward ways, seriously, just look at this shit. What the fuck?
cat number 2. Dee.
Biological sister to perviously discussed cat. I’m particularly fond of this one though, not only is she just beautiful and a dead ringer for my favourite animated dragon, Toothless, but she’s a horrible, horrible, bitch to everyone except me! Admittedly, i didnt always like her, when she was a kitten she would destroy anything that was silione, or felt like silicone. Baby bottle teats, headphones, wires, she didnt care, she fucked up almost every electrical item she could get into her tiny little cat jaw and didnt care about it. She stayed that way until I had her womb (or whatever it is they do when they spay a cat) removed, after that she stopped chewing things and turned into a horrible beast instead. This thing likes to use our walls as a way to clean her nails, either that or she chews off her nails, spitting them on the floor for all of us to stand on. She’s also very cunning, I’ve personally witnessed her walking up to the dog purring her tits off, rubbing herself up against the dogs neck and then Bam! In a flurry of growls and hisses, the dog has a bare patch on her neck and the cat is spitting out chunks of dog fur onto the floor. She’s positively feral in the nicest way. I think she’s the cat behind the dead Crow we found by our back door but I’m no 100% sure of that. She used to sleep in bed with me but these days she goes clubbing (or whatever cats do) a night. slut.
Cat number 3. Soup.
Yeah, we named the cat soup. I can’t even attempt to feed the daughter a bowl of soup without her getting all upset and thinking I’ve ganked the cat to have it for lunch. Let me tell you about this little bastard, don’t let his pretty little ginger eyes fool you, he’s a twat. When we first brought him home we were super excited to own an animal that wasn’t black, ultimately his coat is the reason we called him soup because it’s so swirly and pretty, but don’t let that fool you either, this thing is responsible for all the scars I now sport all over my back. When he was a kitten, he was too small to climb the kitchen counter at diner time so instead of waiting to be picked up by one of us like a normal cat, he would just use us as ladders and clamber up the backs of our legs, across our backs and over our shoulders, tearing holes into us in the process. He’s really adventurous but in the worst way possible, often found buried in the neighbours bin bags, this little shit will tear holes into anything that smells like food. So many times I have smoothed him and ended up with bbq sauce all over my hands because he’s managed to get into our bin and help himself to the spare rib bones we threw away! Once, we lost him. I was pretty frantic because he was so small, after calling him for about an hour we gradually started hearing little meows coming from the side of the house, we found him struggling, he’d buried his head so deep in an empty watsit packet he managed to get it stuck and couldn’t for the life of him get it off. Although hilarious funny, we did take it off him, you know, so he didn’t suffocate!
Listen, It gets worse, we were sat outside the other day and our neighbour came running out hissing and cuss-cussing and Soup comes bounding over the fence all fluffy and petrified, I’m not surprised, I mean my neighbour is a massive, round, bald thing that wobbles when he walks. He’s ridiculously Scottish as well and started saying “ye caaat jest trayed tuh eat meh chicun!” You fucking what mate? Luckily, boyfriend is good with accents. Seriously, I cannot stress how fucking sly this cat is! He’s even managed to break into the biscuit tin and himself to a handful of custard creams!.
The hound. Lola-Rose.
Up until we got this dog, I considered myself I relatively enthusiastic dog person. This awful creature ruined everything and I will never own another dog after she dies. Okay, maybe that’s a bit harsh, these days I’ve warmed to her some. I really fucking hated her to begin with though. Not only did she shit in every single corner of every single god damn room we’ve got in the house but she also had an unnecessary obsession with destroying every pillow we owned. For days, weeks, no MONTHS after we got her, pillows would just get gnawed on until a hole was made and the all the stuffing would get pulled out bit by bit. Leaving a trail of white fluff in her wake, I always knew when she was done because I would find a steaming pile of puke at the end of the fluff trail where the stupid cow had tried to swallow it and choked. To be fair, I actually quite like her these days, now that all the pillows have been destroyed and she learnt to dump her bowls on grass instead on carpet, she is quite likeable, however, very annoying. This thing is as dull as a brush, if I ever get the Hoover out she runs off quivering and shaking, mortefied of the bloody thing! If we get the mower out, she will run full pelt at it snarling and barking! What the fuck, dog? If you’re going to try and kill an electrical thing like that, surly it would be better to attack the thing that can’t hurt you back? In all seriousness though, she has no pride, she will lick herself until she’s sore, grunting and schhcshhssh’ing the whole way through. Ever heard a dog burp? Come to my house, she’s at it all the time, if she likes you she’ll even do it in your face! If she really, really likes you, be prepared to take a face full of airborn shit. Honestly, I swear she’ll make you feel right at home when she lets one off in your face. The smellier it is, the more she likes you. Lola is often found roaming the garden, sniffing out all the cat shits to eat, that’s when she’s not curled up in a ball on of our pillows that is, she might not chew them anymore but she really likes how our brand new duck down feather filled pillows mould to the shape of her butt. If she’s not choowing down the freshest cat poop she can find, or sleeping, Lola can be found destroying all of boyfriends footballs and leaving bits all over the place, stealing the child’s food off her dinner plate or licking a patch of my bed she’s taken a liking to.
I think it’s highly unlikely the chickens are going to be as insane as the rest of my family but then again, judging by my track record, I imagine I’ll end up with the craziest chickens to ever walk this earth. I guess we’ll have to wait and see, I’m pretty sure I’ll let you know about it eventually.
So that’s my family. I think you’ll agree when I say, I’m pretty lucky to be surrounded by so many creatures who are so much like me!