And then there were 3

This is a story about how we got a cat.

First of all, a little background.

My parents have this cat named Yoda that my son absolutely ADORED when we lived there. Yoda was HIS kitty. But Yoda lived outside, and didn't always love Ri as much as Ri loved him. He was super tolerant, sure, but would dash out the door if he saw Ri coming. I was afraid that if we brought him with us he'd try to escape every time the door was opened and we'd have a squished or lost kitty and a sad little boy. So we left him at my parents' house. It wouldn't be too lonely for him there--we'd see him on visits, and his brother is there, too.

Then a few weeks back a friend shared on Facebook that her cat (William Blake aka Blake) needed a new home when she moved to California to get married. This cat was used to FOUR little boys, not just one, and was content to stay inside all day. (Or so I thought.)

I thought this would be a perfect solution.

But I felt guilty. I felt guilty about taking on a new cat after we'd left Yoda behind.But then someone pointed out that Yoda had a home, but Blake would not.

And Riley really loves cats.

So we took him! We're cat owners, for good or for ill.

It isn't as rosy as I thought it would be. He really wants to go outside (more about that later), although he seems more content to stay inside as time goes on. He'd been accustomed to taking care of his business outdoors and wasn't sure about the litter box at first. He's a very tolerant cat, but even very tolerant cats have their limits when a 3-year-old boy is around. And for some reason he wants to sleep on MY bed. Which makes Ri sad and me sneezy.

Riley's thrilled, though. He used to come find me as soon as he woke up in the mornings. This morning I caught him in the living room playing with the cat. Apparently he'd rather play with Blakey than say hi to Mom. He loves to pet him, and I've taught him how to gently brush his fur. Every time you ask him about his new kitty he gets the biggest grin on his face.

There *have* been a couple of escape attempts. In fact, the day we brought him home Ri accidentally opened the door to his carrier right before we got the door open. Thankfully, he was too scared too move and we got him inside.

Then last week he dashed outside, jumped over the back wall, and headed across the street. I was able to round him up in about three minutes (in my pajamas and barefoot, no less), but he did make me bleed in the process.

But...we love him! He's part of our family now. And part of the couch. He loves the back of the couch.


Maybe not our best pic--but we're happy!