Kat and I have adopted, bought, rescued, or given shelter to 2 cats (one of which we still have; the other was given to a friend in NJ. We still have the one we brought with us, giving us a total of 2), 5 dogs (2 of which we still have; 1 was returned to his owner, 1 was given to a co-worker, and the other was brought to the Humane Society, where I hope he found a good home), 2 birds (actually my wife's birds; one of them died), and countless fish (again, my wife's. I consider fish a form of animated furniture).
Unfortunately, in that time, I have made exactly 1 long-lasting friendship, James. He's an okay guy (picture a red-headed, nearsighted, slightly beer-gutted version of Stone Cold Steve Austin from the WWF, and you've got him nailed), but sometimes he lets his dick do the thinking for him. Actually, that's a little too severe. I think it's more the case that he is lonely, so he lets girlfriends walk all over him. But enough about him.
If someone had come up to me six and a half years ago and told me I would be living in Indiana, and liking it for the most part, I would have asked for a puff of whatever they were smoking. I never thought I would leave the East Coast (yeah, Kat. I know you've heard this all before, but when you have a good routine, why change it?). I still miss it, and about once or twice a month I get nostalgic for it (see earlier entries for proof), but I think I probably remember it better than it really was.