ring bearer

Hey, I got engaged today! No, seriously, I'm engaged. Really.

Okay, this probably wasn't the best day to announce this, and an even worse day to ask someone to spend the rest of their life with me. I've inadvertently opened my fiancée Jodi and myself up to barrage of April Fools' jokes regarding the legitimacy of our engagement. It wasn't supposed to go this way, though. I intended to propose last night, but my plans were foiled by my freeloading cat, June.

I charged her with two simple tasks: wearing the ring on a flea collar and not acting like a spaz. I pictured her trotting to the door to greet Jodi, at which point Jodi would discover the surprise, laugh, cry and, against all odds, say yes. But June has never worn a collar before, much less one that smells like mosquito repellent, so she started acting all squirrely when I (loosely) clasped it around her neck. And while I was trying to distract her from her imminent panic attack by waving around a feather on a string, one of her rabbit feet somehow got caught in the collar. She flipped out, sending both collar and ring flying. A minute later, Jodi knocked on the door. I put the ring away, and shared a meaningful glance with June that silently promised retribution.

But at five-thirty this morning, I let go of both pretense and my thirst for vengeance. I brought the ring back to bed, tapped Jodi on the back, and asked her to be my wife.

I think you know the rest.