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-gift-giving department. Rob wasn’t any better.
Katelynn wasn’t really old enough to enjoy watching DVDs. She had lots of baby toys but wasn’t quite ready for toddler toys. Besides, Emma had turned one just two years earlier and we still had nearly all her toys and books, in awesome shape.
Everyone always bought Emma way too many toys. Spoiled rotten to the core, that one.
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.
Anyway, we were 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 was in total agreement, of which there was never any 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 deciding between just two kittens. 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 quite a bit bigger than a hamster.
The white one did little but whine and mew when we held her.
The gray tabby walked back and forth in his kennel, rubbing his side against the door. Every time I approached him, he reached his paw toward me and touched 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. “Well, which one is it gonna be?” he asked me.
I pointed at the gray tabby and said, “That one.” Just to crush Rob’s spirit.
Only kidding. But, 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 gray 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 grandfather’s name was Pete, but he died 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 now been a year since we brought Pete home. He is the most affectionate and human-oriented cat I’ve ever known. 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.
Emma, however, 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 LOUDLY.) 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.
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