Domestically Feral

Vacation promised rest. Instead, I got waves, sand, logistics, and the haunting realization that “relaxing family trip” is mostly just regular life in a swimsuit.

In this episode: daylight savings, physical decline, pet mutiny, senior-cat breakfast theft, kitten tyranny, pollen, pain, and one very sparkly recital tutu that Edgar would absolutely destroy if given the chance. I am tired, the animals are confused, and the government remains suspiciously unbothered by the suffering it has caused.

My friend agreed to pet-sit while we’re on vacation. Very kind. Very generous. Deeply underinformed. What should have been a quick walkthrough turned into an hour-and-a-half briefing on inmate transfers, restricted zones, medication resistance, protective custody, yard privileges, toilet paper removal, and Edgar’s known priors. I did not mean to train an apprentice warden. But here we are.

Edgar’s prison sentence has turned into feline rehabilitation, and against all odds, it seems to be helping. Meanwhile, Boof has entered her roaming era, Mr. Darcy is still being ambushed by a kitten with no conscience, and I have begun threatening baths without actually giving them because I enjoy living. Small wins, bigger losses.

After battling giant fire ant beds in the yard, I thought I was solving one problem. Then Boof decided to lick the ant poison, because apparently eating random household objects was no longer enough of a challenge. What followed was trembling, an emergency vet visit, a full-body guilt spiral, and the realization that I am now fully trapped in my Pet Wrangling Era. Boof is home, medicated, unstable...

Dave did yard work in Louisiana in June. I told him to hydrate. He said he did. At midnight, he woke me up looking for an avocado. This is a story about electrolytes, marital credibility, and why I am now suspicious of artificial intelligence.

Boof has entered her criminal era and is now eating duct tape, wrappers, pencils, magnets, and basically any object not intended for canine consumption. Edgar continues to manipulate me through the ancient powers of drooling, purring, and shameless emotional extortion. Mr. Darcy still expects his eight o’clock royal audience in peace. This is a household update from a home currently being run like...

Edgar has officially been with us for forty days, which sounds biblical because, at this point, it is. In that time, he has drooled on me, tormented the dog, tried to terrorize Mr. Darcy, endangered himself in creative new ways, and earned an extended stay in the bathroom prison. Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy is still here, still elderly, still medically complicated, and still very much himself. This episo...

I do not do spiders, which became a serious problem when a large and deeply offensive one took over my favorite chair. In this episode: Mr. Darcy’s retirement from active pest control, Boof’s ongoing criminal behavior, Edgar’s shocking refusal to act like a cat, and the moment Dave proved himself to be the only functional member of this household.

Edgar Allan Purr is eight months old, and his personality has officially launched. He steals Mr. Darcy’s food, compromises the royal chamberpot, destroys toilet paper, demands ice, sings while he purrs, and has slowly dismantled every remaining shred of household discipline through the combined force of toe beans and emotional manipulation. This bonus episode is an incident report from inside the...

I have four children, and only one of them is human. In this episode: Mr. Darcy protests the washing of his royal bedding, Piper serves as household informant, Boof loves mud but hates baths, and Edgar continues his campaign of emotional manipulation, bathroom occupation, and open warfare against the elderly.

He was fifteen weeks old. He had been here eight days. The takeover was already complete.

Before Edgar took over the house, he first took over my bathroom. In this episode, I talk about those early days: careful introductions, kitten filth, Mr. Darcy’s deep skepticism, Boof’s overwhelming enthusiasm, and the small morning ritual that made me completely smitten with a tiny, exhausting, cocoa-colored menace.

This is a special bonus episode. My husband is turning 50, and naturally, the celebration involves expensive coffee made from digested beans, a late-night forensic investigation over a mysterious pair of underwear, and a family group text that should not exist. In this episode: rogue boxer briefs, inherited bad decisions, yellow jackets with terrible timing, and a man who has never once chosen dig...

I spent two months trying to train Boof for Edgar’s arrival, only to discover that Boof was not the one I should have been worried about. In this episode: careful introductions, one wildly misleading success, and the horrifying moment I realized the kitten was the one with chemical weapons.

I got asked to put a price on my firefly fieldwork, and apparently that sent me into a full moral crisis. In this episode: contractor paperwork, travel math, obscure bug expertise, and the deeply humbling realization that “I got paid to catch bugs” is both a true sentence and a ridiculous one.

Edgar had been home less than an hour when he managed to wedge himself into a vanity drawer and force us into hostage negotiations. By midnight we were using food as bait, questioning our life choices, and beginning to understand that this kitten was not refined, dignified, or remotely normal. Naturally, I fell in love with him almost immediately.

Welcome to Domestically Feral, a storytelling podcast about life at home when the animals have motives, the coffee is necessary, and normal was never really an option. Start here if you’re new, mildly overwhelmed, or suspicious that your pets are plotting against you.

After weeks of waiting, a long road trip, and enough emotional instability to power a small town, we finally brought Edgar home. I had prepared the bathroom, checked for hazards, blocked every tiny danger I could think of, and felt extremely proud of myself. So naturally, not even an hour later, the kitten was missing. In a bathroom. A contained room. This is the story of finally meeting Edgar, su...

Before Edgar ever set one paw inside this house, he was already destabilizing it from a distance. In this episode, I talk about the long wait to bring him home, the emotional spiral that followed, Mr. Darcy’s uncertain health, holiday stress, ugly crying, spiritual struggle, and the deeply mature phrase: “I just want a kitten.”

When our beloved old cat Mr. Darcy suddenly took a frightening downturn, grief and panic sent me spiraling toward one firm conclusion: I could not be without a cat. What followed was an emotional chain reaction involving anticipatory heartbreak, a rare chocolate mink Ragdoll kitten, one very soft-looking lie of a baby animal, and the domestic menace now known as Edgar. This is the story of how we...