Today you are eleven months and five days old, and Good God this past year has been amusing. I'm talking about your insistance that under the covers is where you like to sleep. I'm talking about your constant hijinks and how when you get spooked, you get better air than Michael Jordan. It's also been a year of love.
I never knew how much I could love a cat. I always liked cats before, that much is true. But my heart has always been in dogs. I've always been more of a dog-person than a cat-person, and I've always been proud of that. The more I'm around you, however, that seems to be reversing.
I always knew cats were evil, mind-controlling beasts, and now I'm succumbing myself. I'd like to see anyone not be charmed when you try your damnedest to fit into each and every paper bag you discover. No matter how small that bag may be. How could anyone not love a cat whose favorite toy of all time has always been a sombrero? When there are a million siesta jokes to make about it? Come on. No one could resist loving you.
When we got you, you were a tiny mewling ball of fur. As your Uncle Cam likes to mention, your head was about 3 times the size of your body. We got you out in the country, at 6 weeks old. There were 3 kittens there, and I was almost convinced that they wouldn't be the kittens for us, because your dad and I had discussed what color of cat we wanted, his only demand being "No black cats" and mine being "No white cats". And then we saw you and your brother and sister, and I just melted. Your mom, she's such a sucker. I knelt down on the ground to be closer to you guys, and you weren't afraid of me at all. You crawled right up onto my leg and went to sleep. That's when I knew you were the one for us. Any animal that can sleep that fast and that uncomfortably is made for this household.
Not only did you crawl your way onto my leg and into my heart, that night you pooped in the bed. And you did it on Daddy's side of the bed. I had found the perfect animal, snuggly and cute and big-headed, and also you poop on Daddy's side of the bed. I thought I would die suppressing my laughter and pride. I never thought I could love anything that much. And then, the next night, you pooped in the bed, twice. Both on Daddy's side.
And we decided to keep you.
*Format completely stolen from dooce and her newsletters.. but then, if you haven't read those, what rock have you been under? Really?