Okay, my pet-owning world has fast-forwarded and I am not pleased.  I think my dear, sweet Hermione might be preggers.  Okay, I’m almost positive.  Yes, I will take her to the vet this weekend to be sure, but for now I’m too busy freaking out.  Here she is, my sweet little kitty:

Playing with her golden snitch, of all things.

And yes, I know I should have had her spayed.  But, of course, we were pinching pennies during the time to do that, and stupidly I thought  her lack of heat would protect her for a while, but now I think she just skipped that part and went straight to pregnancy.  Her belly is swollen, she seems a little more reserved/hesitant, and she’s puking all over the place.  Isn’t that fun?!?

SpongeBob is the father, of course.  Bastard.  Here’s the rogue now:

I'm so manly, I knocked up my own sister.

So now, I have to deal with figuring out what to do with a pregnant cat.  Or, rather, when she’s no longer pregnant and instead is a mommy cat.  Eek.  I’m told I can put a box out for her, but she’ll most likely give birth all over my carpet/clothing/etc. anyway.  I’m also told that SpongeBob might turn into a vicious predator and kill all the male babies in her litter, which totally freaks me out.  Then, of course, the best part will be explaining to my children that we do NOT get to keep all those cute little kittens.  Oy, vey.

Won’t this be a new adventure?