Great story. This past Memorial Day weekend I was kind of sucked into a garage sale in the mobile home park here. Then I was invited to look inside, where there was a swarm of adult cats, an overwhelming smell of uncleaned cat litter boxes, and two full litters of kittens. The first litter I saw barely had their eyes open, and there were seven or more of them -- but they were far too tiny to adopt. The other litter kitties looked big by comparison, so I took the cute, all-black extrovert who toddled over and said hi. Well, I couldn't really help it, y'know? I had to rescue at least one of these critters.

Of course I hadn't checked with my husband, and I knew my resident 13-year-old Spinster cat wasn't going to be any too pleased. I called my husband at work and said, "You know how every so often I do something kind of ... rash?" He wasn't all that amused. When I said I wanted his help naming the kitten he suggested I call it "Mistake". But he has warmed up, which would be much too strong a statement to make about Squimmy, the old lady cat. At first she was so furious she refused to speak to me for weeks. Now she's back on speaking terms with me, but she won't give Mooshie the time of day -- except to swipe at him when he tries to jump on her. He's terrible to her, and she's not much nicer to him. Husband (who really has a gift for names) now calls them Knuckle-Weenie and Queen Knuckle Floozie -- maybe figuring they're not quite highly evolved enough to be knuckle heads. Nevertheless I really love them both and I'm glad I have them. And I figure they'll warm up by the end of a Colorado winter in a single-wide.

Finally, I have to say that a lot of the best part of my upbringing was done by German Shepherds. And a mix is almost always better, nicer, and healthier than a pure-bred, ime.

May he bring you lots of joy!