We went to the shelter where we got Bakuhatsu (means explosion, was eaten by coyote (we think) about a year after we got him), Baku (the Japanese spirit that eats bad dreams if you call, hit by car), and Haku (after the dragon in Spirited Away, hit by car), to see if they'd give us another cat, which we expected they would not. We haven't kept a cat for a full year.

Enter Cleo.

Cleo is a 7 month-old female kitten, who is lying on my hands as I type. She has never been outdoors, and was owned by a woman violating her lease by having a pet, and who couldn't afford to take her to the vet. She came with luggage: toys, her special red blanket, shampoo, and kitty treats. She hadn't been checked in formally, and had only been in the shelter 45 minutes when we got there. We took her with the understanding that we'd pay for having her vetted and spayed.  She's my first calico cat, and my first without a Japanese name. She's the opposite of our last three boys, which means I think she'll stay in okay, but I hope to hell she knows how to catch mice. The kids love her, she chases balls (but doesn't fetch), and she just bit my nose. Our house is as big as a world to a cat who had been shut up in a single room most of the day. I think she'll be fine.

In other news? Little K is enjoying Brownies. MJ asked me today when Santa was born, but asserted that his Christmas Eve feat is not magical. My in-laws are coming for Christmas. Little K's Godparents just bailed us out for babysitting for the gig on Saturday. Knob Creek bourbon is tasty. Thanksgiving is at my house.

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