Ever since Mozart died, there's been this fuzzy, kitty-shaped hole in our lives. I know it doesn't seem like it's been very long, but I've had several kitties in my life all the time for the last 15 years.
We have Noodles, my other baby - Mozart's "brother" but he's my cat; he doesn't care for the kids, or my husband much. If he's inside, he's in my lap, chewing on my head, or fuzzing up my side of the bed.
So we made the decision that we wanted to get a new cat for our family. I originally did not want a kitten; I'm done with babies (including animal babies) and I wanted to adopt an older cat from the shelter. I even had my eye on a three-legged 2 year old rescue who just caught my heart.
But this is more about my husband; Mozart was more his kitty, and he's felt the loss harder than I have, and he wanted a kitten.
We went to a local shop that "sells" rescued dumpster kitties; this local vet has a "dumping box" in the back of her practice where people can put unwanted kittens without being identified. Not ideal, but it keep the animals from literally ending up in the dumpster. They spay, worm, and give them their first shots and feline leukemia test, and then charge the adopter $50.
I think that's a pretty good deal.
My husband fell in love with a fuzzy, charcoal-gray kitten. He named him Buster, after a childhood pet. I hate the name, personally, but it's not my cat. ;)
I present you with: Buster the Kitten!
He's already fitting right in. No adjustment period, just non-stop balls-to-the-wall playing with the kids (and everything he can get his troublesome little paws on) and crashing into our laps when he was done. He waltzed in like he owned the place, even bowing up at Noodles like he was going to take on a cat four times his size and age.
Not bad for a 10 week old baby. ;)
Here's to life with a kitten. And my husband taking care of all those stupid baby kitten problems, because it's his damn cat.