I did forget to mention where we got the cat. Back in that post labeled Kittens. Or whatever I called it. So, here is the dirt.
Once upon a time, I drove to a small town near mine to meet up with one of my brothers. The reason for said meeting was simple. He had run out of gas on the freeway. Being the kind sister that I am, I went down to the gas station, bought a gas can and filled it up, then off to the location of the dead car. Fortunately for all concerned, he had been able to pull off onto the shoulder of the freeway, and just down a small embankment was a road. So, I drove down said road, delivered the aforementioned gasoline, then arranged to meet the brother at the nearby gas station. This meeting was arranged to take care of a few things, number one among them, the fact that I had his small daughter in my back seat and I wasn't keen on keeping her forever. I wished to deliver her up to her father. And to get some money to pay me back for the gas can and gas, (gas cans are not cheap!).
So, off we drove to the service station. In my car were myself, my mother, the previously mentioned daughter of brother and my only child, The Small One. We arrived at the gas station and had a small wait. Brother had to fill his car (with the one gallon of gas the can held!), get back on the road, off the exit and over to the VERY BUSY service station. As we waited, The Small One noticed something. Were those kittens in that box in front of the convenience store? Indeed they were! Of course, she wanted a looksee. I let her out of her seat and took her over to the box, not really thinking of possible consequences. But, alas, too late. The children with the box were giving the kittens away and The Small One wanted one.
I pondered. Then I phoned The Man of the House to ask his opinion. That way, if he agreed and the cat later became a pain, I could lay the blame squarely at his door. I am clever like that.
TMOTH said, sure. Get a cat. Why not. Add it to the menagerie that we currently have. Which, should you not be aware, currently consists of one turkey (we ate the other one for Thanksgiving), 10 chickens, who provide us, and various and sundry friends and family, with lovely fresh eggs daily, and two dogs. Big ones, who don't do much except bark and eat and make a general mess of the backyard.
What was one small cat?
So, The Small One, armed with the ok of her daddy, marched back over to the box, determined to find HER cat. She took each cat out of the box in turn and examined it. It took a minute. Or several. Then she looked them all over again. Then she made her choice. The tiniest one of the bunch, though quite scrappy. Hey, that sounds like someone I know!
She took her cat, wrapped it in a blanket that was in the back seat and marched it over to show Memaw and cousin and uncle (who had finally arrived and taken possession of his daughter). Oohs and ahhs all around, then back to the car.
Did you know small kittens panic when in a moving car? The Small One did not. Shortly after takeoff, she handed the cat straight over to Memaw, after sustainging scratchy injuries to her hands.
Off we went home, to show TMOTH her booty. Of course, then came the important step of nameing the kitty. We suggested several appropriate names, but naturally, none of them would do. Remember, this is the child whose dolls are named things like, Wilhelmina, Georgina, Blue and Purple. Appropriate has never been her strong suit. She knew what name she wanted, though, so despite efforts on the part of TMOTH to sway her, she held firm. The kittens name? Well, it is from one of her fave movies, The Corpse Bride. She named him Victah. Not Victor, Victah. British, you know.
Bless her heart, she is becoming an Anglophile, just like her Mamma.
And that, my friends, is how we got our kitty. And when he is naughty she tells him to be nice or she will take him back to the gas station.
Someday, maybe I will post a pic. If I can find where I saved them.