I have an almost 6 month old kitten named Agnes. She is a four and a half pound, grayish-brown tabby cat. And I hate that I love her. I hate how she jumps on my stomach or walks on my face when I’m trying to fall asleep. I detest how she clutches to my thigh when she feels unbalanced (when she’s only 1 1/2 feet off the ground). And I’ve gotten ahead of myself.
It was a chilly December evening, the night that I first saw Agnes. I was driving down the street, when I saw a sign, “Free Kittens”. There was a lady sitting in her car holding a box with two of the most common tabby kittens. They were sisters and the last of the litter to be adopted. Was it irresponsible of me to adopt a kitten (on a whim, snatching her away from the only family she has ever known) and bring her into a home with two adult male dogs – of course! Was it fair of me to force my roommates to endure yet another evil beast with a heart of gold – of course not! But as soon as I laid my eyes on her, she had me (and I think she knows it).
(full disclosure: I’ve owned other cats before, they’ve all either died or ran away)
Come to think of it, the tradition of bring home stray animals began when we brought home Tiger – the kitten that started it all. A kitten similar in quality to my Agnes, but not as domesticated. My elder brother continued the tradition when he went out for Little Caesar’s one afternoon and came home with (Lil’) Caesar (our all white, half-toy poodle half-terrier (not the designer kind) all-mutt. And my younger sister, followed suit, when she left her Great Dane “puppy” with us for a year. I least I bring home cats – an animal that can pretty much take care of itself (dogs are too needy; had to be said). I have no intention of being some sort of crazy cat guy, but having one won’t hurt.
I don’t typically enjoy being around other people (because they expect me talk to them) or having to leave my house. I dislike loud noise and unfamiliar places. I enjoy lounging and obsessing over the smallest detail. If the rest of my family is out having a “good time”, I’m most likely at home building a website or tending to my plants (my definition of a good time). I find solace in solitude. So does Agnes (minus the bit about the websites and plants). Our personalities are compatible.