My father liked to do things a little differently. He didn’t discuss big decisions with the family. If they sounded good at the time, they must be great!
As it was when I finally got a cat. As I recall, my mother was away. I think she was out grocery shopping and I was at home with my older brother. My dad had been on the phone with my mom earlier in the day telling her about a little kitten he found. I remember her firmly telling him that the cat was not to come home with him.
Well while she was gone, he calls back and tells my brother to drive me over to the car lot.
The kitten he had found was teeny tiny. He was sweet and starved and just wanted to cuddle (considering that it was about 50 degrees outside). Mom said that the cat wasn’t too come home with my dad, she didn’t say anything about me (I used to live this old man’s logic).
I promptly named the little gray tabby “Kitty Boy” and turned him into the fatest house cat ever. My mom caved after seeing him (he WAS quite adorable). He became my best friend for the next 17 years.