by getting a kitten. My family has had fun teasing friends who are anticipating our eventual babies by saying, "Eric and Faith are expecting ... to get a kitten!" Yes, this is cruel, but entertainment is scarce.
We like to give credit (or blame) to New Lawyer Chad who adopted an adorable kitten and sent us a picture. After a weekend visit to the shelter, we found Augustine. [For all of you who don't know the proper pronunciation, put the emphasis on the second syllable so that it will rhyme with the word sin, and not the butchered Americanized version that rhymes with the name Christine.] Our cat happens to be female, but she is well qualified to sport the namesake of a saint. That, and it was with much weeping and gnashing of teeth that we settled on the name in the first place, and we aren't about to go through that anguish again until I'm wearing maternity clothes.
As an aside, the shelter was a depressing experience. The smell of unchanged litterboxes left until closing time filled the air and the dogs kept up a constant racket. It made you feel shallow for choosing a young kitten when there were so many adult cats that would probably know little else than the shelter. Most cats would crowd the front of their cages when you neared, and while we knew we weren't adopting them, we felt obligated to give some affection. Guilt gets us every time. So to alleviate this feeling and to allow me to sleep through the night, go to a shelter and adopt a pet. Or seven.
When I returned from work today, Eric had brought her home and was acclimating Augustine to her surroundings. She loved the space, and we're even limiting her to our finished basement and utility room for now. She entertains us with her convulsions as she tries to attack her tail or anything else that flicks around a little too quickly. I must admit that I'm loving her constant purring. It's pleasant to have a scittering little creature around the house again (any possible mice looking for future tenancy are hereafter excepted).