Or Charlie. We're not quite sure yet.
He or she is a little ball of fluff that has made this little girl smile again.
The Princess has been working on cat ownership for about two years now. We've put it off. We got our dog, Bryn, and the house was busy enough with that. We bought The Princess a fish. But you can't cuddle a fish. We bought The Princess a hamster. Sadly, we found Butterscotch had died on the same day The Husband's dad so unexpectedly passed away.
It was a very bad week indeed.
We promised The Princess a new hamster. But when we went to the pet store, there was a sign on the door.
"We have kittens."
Dear god. No. I looked at The Husband. He looked at me.
We knew we were hooped.
Of course, The Princess hardly glanced at the hamsters. All she wanted to do was play with the kittens through the cage door. The Husband and I have been married for a long time. 20 years. A look between us was all we needed to come to a decision.
It was time.
We left the pet store without a hamster. Instead, The Princess walked out with the promise that we would start looking for the perfect kitten for our family.
We had the past few days to talk about the responsibilities. We researched our options and priced things out. Free kittens are never free (vet fees, shots and spay/neutering costs had to be figured in), and pet store kittens weren't what we wanted to support. There were black kittens at the shelter, but The Princess wanted a kitten with tabby markings.
Today we found Sophie/Charlie, one of four little kittens just ready to leave their mom for their forever home. And I found myself looking at anatomical drawings of cats hinies online, trying to figure out if it's a boy or girl.
Obviously biology wasn't my strongest subject in school. I'm still calling the kitten "It".
The Princess said, "Thank you, Mommy!" about 8,000 times this afternoon and evening. I've filed those thank yous into a corner of my brain so I can draw strength from them when the kitten is clawing up my furniture and The Princess has 'forgotten' to clean the litter box.
But tonight, I'm enjoying the feeling of an 8 week old kitten cuddled on my lap, who occasionally wakes up enough to lick my hand with her...or his rough little tongue.