(My husband and I have been talking about getting a new cat for a while now. I’m set on getting a rescue, but my husband is set on getting the same breed as our last cat, who was a retired grand champion Scottish Fold. One morning one of our clients comes in with a stray cat she found. She can’t keep him because all her cats hate him, so the doctor agrees that he can wait out the stray hold period with us. Before I even start work that day it is already decided by all of my coworkers that if he doesn’t get claimed I am taking him home. He is a scrawny cat with folded ears, obviously a half-breed with an American Shorthair on the other side. My husband comes by to pick me up for lunch and gets taken back to the kennel room to meet the cat. It is love at first sight, and on the way to lunch we have the following conversation.)

Husband: “So… what’s his name?”

Me: “We haven’t decided yet. The doc was thinking Hamish or Shamish, [Coworker #1] voted for Haggis, and [Coworker #2] said Macbeth. I was thinking maybe Jamie for the Doctor Who character… What do you suggest?”

Husband: “Well… I mean he is handsome, and boy, does he know it.”

Me: “Yeah, he is.”

Husband: “And he has those intelligent eyes and a hunger pang frame.”

Me: “Yes, he does.”

Husband: “And you look into those eyes and you’re helpless, right?”

Me: “Yeah… What are you getting at?”

Husband: “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

Me: “No…”

Husband: “Well, babe, he’s—” *starts singing* “—a b*****d, orphan, son of a w**** and a Scotsman, dropped in a forgotten spot in [Shopping Center].”

Me: *finally catching on* “Oh, dear.”

Husband: “Alexander Hamilcat! His name is Alexander Hamilcat, and there’s a million things he hasn’t done, but just you wait, just you wait…”

(We took Alexander home a month later. He is curled up in my lap as I type this.)

(My husband and I are eating a dinner of steak and garden peas together. Midway through the meal, he throws a couple of peas at me.)

Husband: *giggles* “I just peed on you!”

(A few minutes later he picks up his soda, glancing seductively at me.)

Husband: “Maybe later I’ll ‘mount-and-do’ you.”

(I’m so glad I found someone who enjoys the same humor as I do.)

(My husband walks into our bedroom, naked, and slithers up into bed with me.)

Husband: “So, I was just in the bathroom trying to poop, and I thought, ‘What do most guys do while they’re trying to poop, but can’t? Probably watch porn. Hmm. I’m going to go have sex with my wife, instead!’”

(My husband gets dozens of zits from dry skin if he doesn’t apply cream to his body after showering. He is lazy to do it and I constantly nag him about it. He also stubbornly claims that the cream does nothing for it, despite knowing full well it does. One day we have this lovely conversation.)

Me: “You should apply cream more often.”

Husband: *interrupts me mid-sentence, triumphantly* “I did, just yesterday! See? You did not notice!”

Me: *simultaneously finishing my sentence* “…because you did yesterday and look, your skin looks so lovely.”

(He got that “busted” look on his face while I was grinning from ear to ear, and honestly he has been doing a big better on the “applying cream” front since then.)

My husband has an incredibly loud and powerful snore. One night, I was awake with a bad migraine when his snoring went over the top, causing intense pain in my head. I tried rolling him over, poking his shoulder, talking loudly to him, bouncing the bed, flicking water in his face… Nothing stopped the snoring. I decided to ruffle his mustache with a pencil. Thank heaven I was using the eraser end, because he rolled toward me, which allowed the pencil to go up his nose!

The snoring did stop long enough for me to go to sleep. The next morning, he had no idea what had happened until I confessed.