fucking cat owners

its been a while.
ive been debating on whether to continue my blogging or not. sometimes i get wrapped up in the idea that its very narcissistic... and then the self doubt kicks in.

"who would want to read this? youre a designer, not a writer."

then i say fuck it.

and that brings us to today.

i picked up an excited beth today to head to target where i witnessed the gamut of emotions swirling inside of her. she doesnt become irate or mean, just quite. then she disappears for a while, and comes back chipper- an empty hot dog wrapper in hand. prime pregnant beth- as im slowly learning.
before we headed to target boutique we had to run an errand only beth could come up with. she found a scared cat on her way home today. he was hunkered down on the corner of busy street and traffic ave. so she took him in, called the owners on the tag, and decided to drop him off at his home.
bleeding heart.
so imagine my surprise when beth ran back down to my car to give me the dvd i will burn as a gift for fathers day with her cordless phone to her ear (let me interject here how weird i still think it is for bill and beth to have a land line...) apparently the owners of mr. cat did not live at the address on the tag- the address we had dropped him off at on our way out. as a result they chastised beth via voicemail. apparently they love their cat enough to call and harrass someone trying desparately to help, but not enough to change the fucking tags on the OUTDOOR cat's collar.
im gonna kick that guy if i see him.