You knew this was coming.  I didn’t know, but YOU knew. You could have called.  Well…maybe some of you did.  Lydia put on a whole day protest (cleverly disguised as a fantastic girlfriend hang out and do really cool stuff day), but then we had champagne at lunch, and forgot all about the pet discussion. I love Lydia.  She gets me.

I often say we don’t choose our pets, they choose us.  In this case, it was a little of both.

Introducing, by circuitous way of joining our family: Dagny Taggart Tatum, named for one of the strongest females characters written into classical fictional literature, and…um…a male stripper.  I’m not sure how to begin the apology. Greg ordered an EXCEPTIONALLY large margarita for me tonight at my Mother’s Day dinner, so it’s possible I won’t apologize at all.  But I will laugh really, really hard.

Greg’s favorite book (or a close second to Rainbow Six ) is Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged, the main character being Dagny Taggart. As this kitten is a birthday gift, thereby coming with naming rites, I assumed he’d name it Richard Parker, after his favorite character in Life of Pi.  Oops.  This kitten is a girl.  Dagny Taggart it is. Whomever names the cat, the other person may choose a last name commiserate with the name of whomever is top of their…let me put this delicately…their “list”.  You KNOW what I mean. Tatum.  Channing. You read this blog.  You can follow the bread crumbs.

As a matter of fact, we met this kitten a few weeks ago, when our neighbor rescued it, and Greg carried it into the kitchen to meet me.  Cute as the day is long, I yelled no, and sent him right back out the door.  I knew the pressure to replace Max was upon me, and I was RESOLUTE that we were complete.  Was Cyrus growing bored?  YES.  Was Sydney thrilled to have Mad Max gone? YES. I figured we’d reach a middle ground of anhedonia with the cats. Life was good.

Was our neighbor able to keep the cat? NO! Did she put a call out on Facebook for a good home? YES! Did I write her immediately and set up a chance for the baby to play with Thing 1 and Thing 2? You know the answer to that question.

Has Cyrus woken up in a new kind of amusement heaven? YES! Are they playing themselves into exhausted comas, waking up, and starting their games all over again? YES! Does this kitten have time to cuddle with us? NOT YET!  She.is.just.so.busy.  As it turns out, Dagny Taggart is the perfect name.

Is Syd pleased? NO! Is she hissing at the kitten? Well…not exactly.  Syd is so fat, she can no longer hiss.  When she tries, it comes out as a pig’s snort.  No joke.  Barely a hiss which turns immediately into a honking snort, following by a choke. Then she lumbers off and looks for her favorite human, upon whom she submits hours upon hours of complaints (disguised as cuddles with longing pleas for reprieve from the chaos).

Is Daddy listening to Sydney’s whines? NO! Look at this squirt! She’s smart.  She’s fast as the wind.  She’s playful.  She’s starting to allow Greg and Sara to carry her around the house.  With all the chasing, my house sounds like an elephant’s playground.

Yep, that sounds just about right.  Life has been far too quiet since the snowy day my Max died.  This house was due for a little shaking up.  And…well…Greg loves cats.  And I love Greg.  So, you do the math.  Welcome to the ranch, Dagny.  5 out of 6 of us welcome you with open arms.

*A special thank you to Danielle for graciously parting with her baby kitty, and allowing me to give her to Greg for his birthday. Please come over for visits! This entire family loves the both of you.*