Because I love my husband, I now own a cat.

So, I’m not a cat person.

They are mean and they scratch and they go to the bathroom in a litter box. Blegh.

When Greg brought this home, IMG_0274[1] I did not think she was cute. I kind of just stared at her, wondering how long I was going to be stuck with this animal that potties in my house. I would much, much rather take out a dog than scoop a littler box. Just sayin’.

Well, she and Greg are kind of … bonded. He rescued her from her crouched position in the middle of a busy road. He watched semi-trucks pass over her as this weeks-old kitten waited it out in the middle of the lane. He saw her look up when the traffic was passed, paralyzed with fear. I’m blessed with a husband who has a bigger heart for animals than people sometimes, so he pulled over, waited for a second wave of traffic to clear, and saved Top Shelf from being a splat on the pavement.

You know those moments in your marriage or in parenting when you just know you’re about to have zero choice in the matter, regardless of how much disdain you carry for whatever is about to go down? Well, yeah.

20140216-173451.jpgIf you’ve read me before, you know I have a partner-in-crime named Sam, the cutest, sweetest King Charles Spaniel ever. And when hellspawn – I mean the cat – was brought home, Sam was actually all about it! She invited Top Shelf (cat’s name) to play, she sniffed up and down, getting a feel for her new buddy. Top Shelf did not feel the same – she hissed and scratched at my sweet girl and I swore that was it. We were finding a new home for this thing because I did not want a hissing monster around me and my baby girl.

Remember what I said about those no-choice-in-the-matter moments? We tried and tried and tried to find that cat a new home. To no avail. So Greg brought it to flight school. Fine, she was out of my hair. Just make sure you apartment doesn’t smell when I come down there for the summer, I told him. He promised. I prayed. I prayed for either a new home for the cat (sorry, babe), a changed heart for one of us (hoping G’s heart would do the shifting), or that Top Shelf and Sam would get along so well they’d be pioneers in changing “Fighting like cats and dogs” to “Loving like cats and dogs”.

God has a sense of humor:

If you can believe it… they are best buds. Sam even gave TS a bath yesterday, licking her face until Top Shelf was satisfied. They rumble and tumble, they each have their places in the living room where I swear they’re having a Dr. Doolittle-type conversation, and they share toys. Coincidentally, as I write this, I had to put them in their separate corners. I guess they don’t get along when one (cat) tries to get in on the other’s (Sam’s) snack.

So, I guess it isn’t so bad. I mean, her litter box smells and she drew blood on my toe yesterday and she pulled the wire out of the laptop by spastically running across the living room. Sam has never done any of those things.

But when you love someone enough, you put up with things and you change your attitude along with the litter box because if it makes your love’s heart happy, well, you know. You really have no choice in the matter.

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