Learning to love Lisa
Against my better judgment, I adopted a cat last weekend. We had gone a year and a half with no pets, and I must admit, it had been nice not to have to change cat litter and vacuum up fur and pay vet bills for awhile. But I had promised my daughters we would eventually get a cat, and after locating just the right one on petfinder.com, I had to make good.
We brought Lisa, a large tabby with a persistent meow, home from the shelter on Sunday. (Of course, this was after dropping a hundred bucks at Petsmart.) She meticulously explored the house, looking in every closet and in every drawer to make sure there was no danger, then made herself comfortable. She lazed on the rug while we ate dinner, followed us up to the playroom to do homework, and then climbed on my youngest daughter's bed while I was tucking her in and snuggled up. "This is what I've been dreaming of ever since we've been in this house," my nine-year-old said. "Thank you, Mom."
It doesn't get any better than that.