Our latest addition

Well....

I've finally gone and done it. Despite any misgivings and the fact that I'm probably 9 kinds of crazy for adding one more thing to the mix that is the insanity of my life, on Saturday we went to the Prince William Animal Shelter and adopted this little cutie.

My 5 year old daughter has been begging for a kitten for about a year now. Never having been allowed to indulge my desire for a furry creature when I was little, I really wanted to let her have the experience - but not maybe just yet. I wasn't sure I was ready to have one more living thing needing my (always distractable) attention.

But Saturday morning I woke up with the overwhelming feeling that there was a kitty cat at the shelter waiting for us to come get him or her. I piled the oldest two into the car and we raced against time to get down to the shelter before they closed (I'd spent the morning waiting for Brian to finish dealing with taking the car for inspection and figuring out how/if it would pass - long story, but it left us with only 15 minutes to look at the animals). Somehow I knew that "our cat" would know us. And I was right.

When we went into the cat room we were immediately drawn to this little guy. He was in a bottom corner cage, and as soon as we started looking interested in him, he started pouncing and playing with his bedding as if to say "Oh, pick me! Pick me! Look how cute I am - love me, love me pet me pet me take me home!" He was purring like a little outboard motor the whole time we were holding him and passing him around - which the lady at the shelter told us was a good sign that he would do well in our busy household.

Looking into his beautiful baby blues I just couldn't even think about leaving without him. Our cat had found us. He's 8 weeks old, and has an unusual feature - he's a six toed cat. Each of his paws has six toes. It gives him these adorable giant paws that look too big for him.

So.... we've been spending the weekend getting accustomed to each other. We spent the whole first day trying to figure out what his name should be. (If you have a cat, you know that you don't name a cat, you discover it's name.) The kids couldn't agree - Chris wanted Sneaker (cause he's sneaky) and Charlotte wanted Simba. Our new kitty's "official" name then, is Simba Sneaker Smith. But we call him Simba, or Kitty, or Cat, or a dozen other endearments and he's okay with that.

After a long afternoon of playing with an oh-so-excited little girl, Simba curled up to sleep inside Charlotte's little pop-up play tent, all snuggled up with the stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets. In fact, we couldn't find him for a while - he looked like one of the stuffed animals!

I'll have to call the vet on Tuesday to set up his first checkup, and the mom in me is slightly apprehensive of what we'll learn. I pray Simba is as healthy as he seems, and that he can live to be an old patriarch cat with us. This is a big leap of faith for me. I'm trusting that God led us to a cat that can be with us for a long time. But if for some reason it leads to a object lesson for my children on dealing with life, and death, well... it will be hard, but we'll get through it.

I wasn't sure how Simba would take to us - us novice cat owners (or staff, as cats prefer). I was just as perplexed what to do when he woke up at 5am meowing at our bedroom door, as I have been when my children have woken up crying for no reason I could figure out. We let him in, to see what he would do, and after getting some love and scritches from both of us he did the most amazing thing. He ran his paws through my hair, to make himself a little nest, and snuggled up purring right behind my head. I couldn't quite sleep, but I couldn't bear to move him. I felt so loved, that he trusted me that much, the first night he was home.

As one of my favorite author's SARK has said, "Cats are angels with fur."

Indeed.