The Cat Who Adopted Us

Just over a week ago, while crossing my lawn, I heard a loud, desperate meow. Looking around, I saw a skinny, tiger-striped cat running toward me as if I was the love of his life.

With all the dogs running rampant in our neighborhood, stray cats are rare. This one was so friendly, I had to believe that someone had just dumped him. Which made me feel really bad for him. But we already had a cat. We didn't need another one. So I petted him and Brown-Eyed Boy pulled his tail, and we left him outside.

I figured he would wander off by the end of the day. But he didn't. He sat outside our door, meowing pitifully every time he saw us walk by. Between that and darting inside the house every time I opened the door, I was not very fond of Kitty by the end of the first day.

When Mr. Brown Eyes came home from work, it took about five minutes of him listening to Kitty's mewling before he turned to me and said, "That cat has got to go."

I agreed.

But then we went outside to work in the yard, and we watched as Brown-Eyed Boy ran after Kitty with peals of laughter, as Kitty lovingly rubbed against Brown-Eyed Boys' knees, as Brown-Eyed Boy ran around the yard and Kitty ran after him, as Kitty put up with having his tail pulled and dirt and grass dumped on his head.

Mr. Brown Eyes shook his head. "We can't get rid of him now."

Nope. Whether we liked it or not, Kitty was now a part of the family.

Brown-Eyed Boy named him Bebot.

Welcome to the family,
The Brown-Eyed Girl