August 8, 2011
On our way home from dropping off my mother-in-law at the airport, we stopped at the animal shelter.
Cats with no tails and half-missing ears aren't effective substitutes for grandparents who live in Los Angeles, but it's the best I can do.
"Can we get a cat because grandma left today?" asked Camber. She held up a fluffy black kitten.
"I want that one," Kellen said, pointing to a yellow cat the size of a horse.
"I'd be happy with a Slurpee," Cortlen added. He gazed longingly out the window to the 7-11 across the street.
"The last thing I need in my life right now is another living thing to take care of," I told them.
The crying that started on the way to the animal shelter continued after we left.
"I miss her so much," Kellen cried on the drive home.
It was unclear whether he was talking about his grandmother or the morbidly obese feline.
"We aren't getting another cat," I said again as we pulled into our garage.
Famous last words.
I kid you not: two minutes after we got home, my kids burst through the front door with a collarless cat that they had found in the bushes.
We're making posters and I've sent out emails to all the neighbors, but so far, there aren't any takers. Tomorrow we're taking her to the vet to see if she's microchipped.
"I have an idea for a name if we get to keep her," Camber said.
"Oh yeah? What?"
I should have guessed.