1. Macy can read cats' minds. No seriously, she can, because if someone tries to give it a toy, she says, "NO! He doesn't want that right now." Or if someone tries to pet it too roughly (in her eyes) she says, "STOP! You're hurting him." It's amazing. I'm thinking of trying to get her her own reality show, like Cat Whisperer or something.
2. Our cat came from the gods. Apparently, our cat does things that no other cat has ever done before. Like sneeze. "Oh my gosh, he just sneezed! That's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" And roll around. "Aw, look at him roll, it's soooooo cute." And walk. (Hysterical laughing.) "He's walking! Hee hee hee." Who knew we got Supercat, with his amazing, other-wordly abilities? I bet his old owners are kicking themselves...
3. Bill feels the same about kittens as he does babies. I haven't seen this side of him in five years, with the baby talk and the cuddling and the searching for the little thing as soon as he walks in the door. Okay, I'm guilty too. Seriously, you'd think I gave birth to the thing. I might even decide to reveal that it sleeps with us in our bed, but I'm not sure yet if I will. Bill might not want everyone to know.
4. A kitten is a great substitute for a baby. Besides what I mentioned above, for the first time in two years I have no guilt over not fulfilling my kids' every wish by having a baby. In fact, the way they treat this cat, I'm starting to wonder if they think they are one in the same. Please, no one tell them otherwise.
5. Claws suck. A lot. Yeah, so apparently they don't de-claw kittens until they are at least 6 months old. Um..............huh? Are you kidding me? What in the HECK am I supposed to do until then? I am covered in scratches on both my hands and my face, Payson gets clawed at least four times a day, resulting in him sobbing and begging me to call the vet again to make sure they really won't take the claws out, and my curtains are starting to look like, well, like we have a cat.
Nan? Some help here? Anyone?
Oh, and we finally settled on "Jasper." Payson wanted "Jumper" or "Jabba" (yeah, as in The Hut), Macy wanted Chester or Baxter (??), Bill quickly vetoed my "Edward" and suggested "Carlisle," we called him "Cullen" for a day until I couldn't handle hearing my kids call him "Colon" one more time, and so it is "Jasper," which we felt was the best cat name.
Now if only I could get it to "clean" itself in private, life would be just purrrr-fect. (Sorry, I had to.)