It was bound to happen. We've turned 40, and Steve hit his mid-life crisis and found himself someone new. We went volunteering the other night, and there was a litter of five kittens. Graham and I played with the kittens, the other cats, and Steve just kept holding on to this little one while she licked his arm and then curled up and fell asleep.
And then we put all the cats away, and there Steve sat with this cat on his lap for another half an hour, a goofy, blissed-out expression on his face. "Take her home, Dad," Graham said. "I don't care," I said. Steve thought, and thought, and thought.
See, he has wanted a black cat since we got our first one (Kitty) for Graham. And then I brought home the infamous thread thief, Boo. And Steve would always stop and look at the black cats in the pet store and say how he got to pick out the next cat.
"They're a lot of responsibility," he said.
"We have a big house and plenty of time. Harrison moved out, and Graham's not far behind."
"We already have two cats," he said.
"She's teenie," I said. "She hardly counts as a full cat -- she's more like half a cat."
"They live a long time," he said.
"If you don't get this cat now, you're going to regret it, and it'll be a long time until we're down to one cat again."
"Come on, Dad," said Graham.
Steve was quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Then he said: I say, "Yes."
And we took her home. And she's wonderful, and sweet, and funny, and she comes when you call for her. And the other cats are starting to tolerate her already. She's got the prettiest teal-colored eyes, and her little toenails look like rice grains against her black feet, and she's quick to purr, and slow to hiss. She probably weighs less than two pounds right now (my hand will go almost all the way around her midsection). And no accidents so far (alleluia!!!) She's perfect, and we love her already.
But what to name her...? Ideas?