A little more than a month ago I found myself constantly checking Craigslist to see if there were any free kittens to be had. One day I found an ad for the Humane Society Sale the following weekend, but attempts to independently verify the ad were unsuccessful. Then with a bit of serendipitous luck I found the announcement on the Humane Society's website, at the convenient moment that I was on the phone with Hubby.
"Okay," he said, "I'll meet you there in an hour."
"Ummm..." came my erudite response.
"No, no hesitation. We decided on this and we're getting a kitten."
Despite my nervousness, he knew I wanted a kitten. And if we were going to adopt a kitten we might as well do it that weekend, because the adoption fees were CHEAP, and the only thing better than a new kitten is a cheap one.
The kids and I loaded up and drove to the Humane Society, met Hubby, and 45 minutes later we walked out the door with a sweet little black tabby cat, now named Diesel 10 Kansas Fox.
This animal likes us, he really likes us.
Per Hubby's sage advice we rescued an animal from a bad situation (not that the Humane Society was a bad situation, but the little guy was stuck in a cage with his two rambunctious brothers) and brought him to our home where he could run and play and lounge and be eternally grateful to us.
So far it's working.
Looking back on the situation with Max the Pug I realize we did exactly the opposite: we tore the dog from the woman who rescued him from a horrible situation and let him sleep in her bed, brought him to our home where he slept in a crate by night and avoided my excited and over-loving children by day. No wonder he was bitter and chose to defecate on our floors.
This kitty—Diesel 10 Kansas Fox—loves to sleep and cuddle and doesn't know any better than to let my daughter carry him around all day. And he has never once used anything but the litter box to take care of his business.
This is the animal for us.
