Back when Cory was a toddler, I promised Maddy that we would get a dog, something that she has wanted for years and years, after her brother was potty trained. My reasoning was that I was only willing to pick up so much poop during any given week.
The span between where he was and a mythical potty-trained state seemed so vast that I was convinced I'd never have to make good on my promise. Until I did.
The Boy is more or less hitting the potty with his bodily fluids. The time was nigh.
I've been visiting the shelter, doing research and stealing my mind for the arrival of a dog. Don't get me wrong. I like dogs. But I prefer cats, mostly because they don't require nearly as much babying. I have babies to baby, should I feel the need. But for my oldest baby, I am willing to embrace a dog.
Last weekend we visited the Heart of the Catskills Shelter en familia. We walked some dogs, who were sweet. We came home -- metaphorically since there is a several day wait to be approved, etc. -- with this one:
Meet McGregor, our 5-month old orange tabby "dog."
Somewhere during the shelter visit, after walking dogs and holding kittens, Maddy had a change of heart. McGregor clearly was meant to come home with us. And while she has had one brief spell of dog-related remorse, she is loving the new pet to pieces. Again, metaphorically.
We will probably get a dog someday, mind, but have set a limit of only three fuzzy pets in the house at any one time.
And everyone* seems to be OK with that.
It's hard to say who is harder to make hold still, however:
The Boy or the kitty.
* everyone human, that is. Trout's fine with the new addition -- frankly, I don't know that Trout retains enough information on a daily basis to notice that the kitten is new. He's not very smart, our Trout. Barney, however, is royally pissed off, which isn't helped by McGregor wanting to be his friend. It'll pass, I hope.
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