Princess Mittens

So, there is time in life where you have to do something you really don’t want to do, but know it’s the right thing. This case is a kitten called Princess Mittens.

Screw you. I did not name it that. My 6 year old daughter did and here’s why.


Our master bathroom is spacious; the kind homeless people pray to sleep in. One day as I stepped all of myself out of the shower and started to dry the mountain of man off, I hear a growingly louder, “daddy, daddy!” It’s my daughter making her way to the double french doors that separate the bathroom from the bedroom. In total fear she see the gear that made her, I yell “Just a minute”….as I see the door handles start to turn.

I knew I had to save her. So I lunged for the door in an attempt to keep her from opening them. Remember there is a lot of me. It’s like a mastodon taking a bath…. there is water all over the floors and walls. It’s safety hazard.


As I reached up for the door handles, I slipped on the hard wet surface sending me up and then parallel with the floor in mid air for a second. As I started my decent my abnormally large feet kicked the doors wide open splitting my big toeing nearly half.

The doors swung wide open, with my 6 year old daughter in full view of the beginning and end to life. Wet, naked, and now bloody, she does the only thing she knows to do. Haul ass. Leaving me in a pool of naked, fat, wet, blood.
The irony was I was angry at her for not administering first aid. For god’s sake there was blood up and down the door jam and door.


Hoping to avoid therapy, I bought her a kitten. Enter….Princess Mittens.


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