Holy Kittens, Batman!

I am not a cat person.  In the least.  In comparison to my husband, however, I would be PETAs Cat Lover of the Year.  In an action that neither of us can truly understand or explain, we decided last Thanksgiving to bring home a kitten from my grandmother's yard of wild furballs.  Jonathan saw numerous field mice last summer living in the tall grass by our pond, and our (quite logical) thought process was the cat would provide sufficient and economical combat against such vermin.  Illogical, however, was our ability to forget our dislike of the species cateous ferocious. 

Poor, unsuspecting kitten found herself stuck in a cardboard box for the drive to our house and disappeared under our house within 30 seconds of being freed from cardboard hell.  It took us two days to find her, four to get near here, and seven to touch her.  Wasn't long, though, before the children were doing their best to rip off her limbs with their hugs.  We allowed the children to each pick a name.  Archer's choice was Batman and Celie's Tinkerbell.  We voted 3 to 1 for Batman...until we found out Batman is a girl.  Her moniker has been a constantly evolving since.  First stop was to reformulate to a more gender-friendly Princess Batman Tinkerbell.  Didn't really matter, as the children just called her "Kee-Kee".  Recently, it has evolved again with Celie calling her "Keeks".

The kids thinks she's great.  She is their first pet, and they are love her lotsa.  Jonathan & I are still temperamental friends.  It's hard to be friends when overturned garbage, gnawed Ziplocs of food, and scratched furniture are involved.  The cat,  not Jonathan.  Yeah, she was allowed inside during cold nights when my heart was softened by the thought of her shivering and lonely.  Stupid me.

So, Keeks is here to stay.  Can't say I'm a cat person yet, but it's a hoot to watch her decimate a ping-pong ball.  When she brings me a dead mouse this summer, we will be best buds.  I just might change her name to BFF.