Companionship

I have gone and done it.  Just gone off the deep end and done it.  It never even registered to mention this on the (very short) list of things I'll never do because the idea of doing it was so preposterous. 

So, what is it I've done that you should probably now be concerned about my mental well being?

I adopted a cat.  Me.  Allergy girl.  Adopted a cat. 


So, without further ado, please let me introduce you to Charlie.

Permission to say "Awwwwwwwwwwww" right now.

So, you might ask, at this point, how it is I came to adopt young Charlie.  A couple of weeks ago, you might remember (or not) that I had to stay at my parents house for a few days while my well was being disinfected.  And one morning while I was there, I was in the living room, drinking coffee, and I swore I heard a cat meowing (this eventually led me to call him, briefly, Captain Meow).  So I went to inspect.  Lo and behold, Charlie had followed my mom home on her walk the evening before, and decided to camp out.  And he wouldn't leave.  I don't blame him, the parents have a nice house.  The parents, not really looking to have a pet of their own right now were desperately wanting to remove Charlie from their farm.  I was always willing...I just needed to get my caretakers approval.  You know, because I travel a lot, and a pet can't just be my responsibility. 

So, last night, I inquired as to how the young kitten was doing, and the mom told me he was still there.  And I told her that, you know, feeding a cat wouldn't add too much of a burden to their current responsibilities of watering my flowers and gathering my mail while I'm gone. 

Today, the mom calls to let me know that they're picking up some kitten food.  For my barnyard guest.  Did I get the picture? 

Woohoo!!

So Charlie and I just got home.  I showed him around the place.  And by that, I mean, I showed him where his food is going to be located.  So far, so good. 

I'll keep you posted. 

For now, he really likes to follow you around, and do the cute intertwining around your ankles.  And there has been a lot of purring going on on Charlie's end.  And a lot of nose scratching going on on my end.  But he's staying outside (I mean, he's cute and all, but I don't want to die).  So, be prepared that you may now be inundated with cute cat pictures, and stories.  And an occasional slip into LOLspeak. 

You know, I once read in a book (fiction) that owning a pet automatically makes your IQ drop 10 points...because it's inevitable that you're going to start speaking like and idiot to the animal.  And so far, I can absolutely say this is true.  Because from the moment he got in the car, I've been saying things like "Charlieeeeeeeeee, you so cuuuuuuuuute." 

Don't judge.  I promise I won't do the same to my future children that I'm having in 12 years. 

You also might inquire as to why the name change.  Well, as I was working on project headboard (updates on that soon, I promise) I was thinking about calling a cat Captain Meow.  And though it's fitting, I just couldn't picture myself calling a pet that long term.  So then I started thinking of alternate names.  George came to mind.  But then...then I started thinking about my grandparents...whose farm I'm living on.  Paw especially.  And every single animal that ever made it to this farm to live was called Charlie Brown by him.  I never really ever figured out if it was because he didn't want me to get too attached to the cows (who I would eventually be eating) or if he just didn't want to have to remember a different name all the time.  But that's what he always called the animals.  So I figured it was fitting that the new kid on the barnyard follow suit.  

Alright...it's dinner time.  For me, not Charlie.  Nom, nom, nom.