We got a kitten.
It was a spontaneous decision. And like anything spontaneous, it feels a bit radical.
Her name is Millie. She weighs just about a pound. The first day, she scared us all with some ninja moves, but that has since settled down.
Now she snuggles in bed with any and all of us (even our crotchety old beagle pup). I told my husband that there is something so wonderful about the objectivity of an animal; the fact that she loves us is strangely validating ("Hey! We're not that bad!").
I've learned that black kittens are not that easy to photograph, especially in the imperfect lighting conditions that exist in this house. And she's FAST. And when she's asleep, you can't really even see her face, it's so black. And we can't take her outside, because, as I mentioned, she's FAST.
So, these are all the pictures in existence of her, and probably all there are likely to be for a while.
She has pounced and purred and curled and scratched her way right into all our hearts. Even me, the grumpy old cat-hater that I am. Or was.
All is beautiful and well.