As the month of July wound down last year, Katelynn’s first birthday was quickly approaching. Rob and I had several discussions about what to give her as a gift.

It’s been my experience that one-year-olds aren’t that much fun to shop for, so I wasn’t much help in the creative-giftgiving department. Rob wasn’t much better.

Katelynn wasn’t really old enough to enjoy watching DVD’s. Short attention span and all that. And, she had lots of baby-type toys but wasn’t quite ready for the toddler toys. Plus, Emma had turned one just two years earlier and we still had nearly all her toys and books. In awesome shape. Like we probably could have wrapped up three or four of those to give to Katelynn and no one would have been the wiser. Especially Katelynn. Everyone always bought Emma way too many toys.

Spoiled rotten to the core, that one.

So, we were pretty perplexed about what to get her. Well, Rob was perplexed. Katelynn is only his second baby, but she’s my fourth, so I’m pretty numb to quandaries of this type. But anyway, we gave it some thought.

A few days before the party, I finally came up with a brilliant idea. A KITTEN! Genius, yes? I mean we already had two dogs, why not add a cat to the insanity family? Rob agreed. Which was never a question. He’s a sucker for animals. He said we should go by the city animal shelter and pick out a kitten. I think we threw on our shoes and left right then. We were stoked.

At the shelter, there must have been a hundred cats up for adoption. Every color, shape, and size. We walked from kennel to kennel checking out the kittens and narrowing our choices. We used a very scientific method called This One’s Cuter Than That One.

More of that MENSA magic at work.

Finally, we were down to just two kittens to decide between. One was a fuzzy white female that was barely old enough to be adopted. She was about the size of a hamster. The other was a male gray tabby that was four months old. He was bigger than a hamster.

The white one did little else but mew and mew while we held her. Very whiny. The tabby walked back and forth in his kennel, rubbing his side against the door and every time I approached him, he reached his paw toward me and tried to touch my arm. He also let me scratch him under the chin and purred like an motor.

Rob was holding the white one and looked like he was in love. He said, “Well, which one is it gonna be.” I said “That one,” and pointed to the tabby. Just to crush his spirit. Only kidding. Seriously, we did NOT need a kitten that was one misstep away from being the next mess on the carpet. Besides, three whiny females in the house is more than enough. That’s not counting the dogs. Or me. I never whine. Shut up.

So, we took the tabby home. Emma wanted to name him Jojo. [I have got to cut off that kid's Disney channel.] We said “Uhhh, no.” So, she came up with Pete. I don’t think she has ever come into contact with anyone in her whole life named Pete. My dead grandfather’s name was Pete but he died in 1977, when I was six, so we don’t talk about him and I don’t think we’ve ever told her his name. Spooky.

I can’t believe it’s been a year now since we brought Pete home. He is the most affectionate and human-oriented cat I’ve been around. Has been since day one. My cat-loving relatives try to take him home every time they’re over. You know who you are.
Stop it.

These days, Katelynn mostly chases him and pulls his ears. Which he patiently endures most of the time.

Emma is his true love. I frequently find him curled up in her lap asleep. He runs to greet her when she comes home from school. And, he comforts her when she cries. Which is a LOT.

Like I said — rotten to the core.

He can hear her crying from anywhere in the house. (We all can. She cries VERY LOUD.) He goes running to her and jumps up in her lap, pressing his nose against her cheek which always makes her laugh.

I think she is more his than he is hers.

And poor Katelynn got screwed out of a birthday present.