No, I bought a furry baby. A little rescue kitten. And I didn't mean to buy her. I truly didn't. I had intended to pick up my son from school and drive him directly home. But my friend Lana had mentioned over breakfast that the vet near my home had some rescue kittens, and a sudden, feline madness took over.
"Can I make a quick stop?" I asked my son impulsively.
"Okay," he said. "Do you need to go to the shops?"
"No, not shops," I said, and parked the car. The kittens were calling to me. They were girls, I just knew it. My Princess Fancypants was inside waiting.
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| Seriously - could YOU resist this face? |
My son looked confused as we walked into the vet. "Mum, what are we..."
"I hear you have rescue kittens?" I asked the receptionist.
"NO," he said. "No! REALLY?" (My son, that is. The receptionist said "Yes!" as I knew she would. Because I could see the kittens beside the door.)
""We have two little girls here at the moment," she said, and I looked over and there I saw my baby.
She was tiny, and cute, with four little white socks. She had huge green eyes, and a Fancypants face.
"Penelope!" I cried, and I still don't know why. I don't like the name Penelope; at least, I didn't before. But she was totally Penelope. It may as well have been written on her collar. (But she didn't have a collar. She was way too small.)
So Princess Penelope Fancypants has come to live with us. And already we know quite a bit about her. She likes tuna, but definitely doesn't like chicken. She likes her bouncy ball, but thinks the toy mouse is lame. She likes her scratching post but refuses to scratch it. And if she wants to sleep under the couch all day then she's damn well going to do it and there's nothing we can do but RESPECT.
We welcome the newest member of our family. We will serve you, Penelope, and you own us already.
But if anyone else ever casually mentions a rescue animal, I'm going to block my ears, hum, and drive on.
