Pets are interesting. We don't really need them, but they're so damn cute.
Today I woke up happy with everything--my wife, my job, and the number of pets in my household: zero. One of those things would change today. At first, against my will, but then with my consent.
How did this start? Manipulation. Plain and simple.
I was looking forward to a day of fixing up the house. Adding some plants in the corner and framing some pictures...generally a lazy day of self-indulgence. By 10:26 this plan changed drastically. I was on my way to a kitty shelter, to humor my wife. To make her think I was even interested in adopting a cat. As we walked to the cat shelter I was already entwined around her little finger and I didn't even know it. When we entered the cat shelter, my chest puffed out in defiance, I tried to resist. But I already knew the outcome: Jim + Claire + a new fuzzball in London.
We walked down into the bowels of the building, where all the cats were living in kennels. We were let loose to explore all the homeless cats. With so many cats, you would think this would take some time. But, no...as I walked into the first kennel, the cutest orange furball appeared. It was over. That was the cat: Captain Finchley. At one point I considered pretending like we weren't going to get this cat, but I gave up. It wasn't a matter of us picking him. He picked us. (inserted by Claire: Just like EMma and Chowder before him!! It wasn't manipulation!!!)
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