Something Fuzzy this way comes...

The fates are laughing at me. Laughing their butts off, actually. I was the kid who brought every animal home with me - dogs, cats, snakes, turtles - you get the idea. I loved animals. Then I grew up and moved out and discovered animals shed hair - everywhere. Hair that would turn into huge dustballs that threatened to take over the domicile. They also.....how to put this nicely....excreted. And something had to be done with this by-product - or the results were....unpleasant. I've never liked animals as much once I realized how much work was involved.

We still have animals, mind you....I just try to limit it...somewhat! We have two small dogs (a rat terrier and a shitz tzu - the small dogs seem to work better for us)and one cat (very important - since we also live in old farm house that attracts mice). The one cat is an adequate mouser, friendly, and very good about using the litter box or going outside. (very important - since when my step-son and his cats lived with us we were NOT so fortunate. Ugh!) The children have been begging for a kitten for over a year. Every time we see one - they want it. Tears, begging, the whole works. Hasn't worked - no matter how cute the critter may be. (John and I have never forgiven ourselves for letting tears talk us into the FORTH cat for said step-son: it was the cat that pushed us over the edge from "manageable" to "cat hell".) We were resolute.....one cat was our limit. Period.

Now we arrive at yesterday morning - a normal morning, by all standards. The usual clutter, chaos and overwhelming "to-do" list. Then we hear "the noise". Thinking the cat is crying to get in, I open the back door and call her, only to find her at my feet - NOT the source of the noise. I shut her in and wander outside - in my pajamas - to find the source. I instantly recognize the noise as "pissed off kitten". Great. It's not too hard to locate, as it's wedged between our house and the non-functioning hottub. We've had kittens in the neighborhood before - small feral things that were terrified of us and raced away the instant they sighted us. I wedged my body into the small space, expecting the kitten to take off and disappear. Nope. It was crying pitifully, and when I picked it up, it nuzzled against me. Great, just great. As I straightened and turned towards the door, daughter #2 spied said kitten - her face broke into a joyous smile, and she ran off to spread the news. I was suddenly surrounded by at least 20 ecstatic children - well, three children who seemed to be multiplying.

The first question, of course, is "Are we keeping it???" I refused to commit myself - but it does seem inevitable when it shows up at your door. My first terror was finding an entire litter - but we were unable to find any more. The tiny thing was no more than 5 or 6 weeks old - but was able to feed himself and use a litter box. Oh yeah - it was MALE. I've had one hard and fast rule since the first time I visited my now husband's apartment -which reeked of cat urine from his male cat - NO MALE ANIMALS!!!!! Yup, it was getting better and better. And, the icing on the cat, the tiny thing was COVERED in fleas (and is too young for chemical treatment). I spent hours bathing the kitten (not too happy, but dealt with it without hurting me) and combing him with the flea comb. I still itch.

His name is now Hobbs, after our village. The children are thrilled, the dogs are curious, and the cat is terrified. She sees the wee one and bolts away and hides. How weird. At least she's not trying to kill it, I suppose. As for us....we're resigned. If it wasn't the kitten, it would be something else. As Robert Fulgham says, "it's always something". (ok, he says it better than that!)

Running, you ask? Yeah, right. Let's just say...I'm Un-running!