It started with the cans of Bumblebee and escalated to letting the feral cat nap in the house. Then the cat was napping on her lap. Then there was the birthing blanket and playing midwife.

Going into high gear the bride named the thing Mister Mittens (no more 'Cat' or 'Kitty') and bought a cat bed for her and the four kittens. Yesterday she put a flea collar on Mittens, bought "special" bowls for cat food and water and then bought a case of cat chow.The name Mister Mittens came about because the bride thought that she was a he until "he" got knocked up.

The wife has been a dog person her entire life but when I found clipped cat food coupons from the Sunday papers on the kitchen table this morning I knew for certain she had turned into a Cat Woman. It looks like we have some good deals coming with Whiskas and Pounce cat products at the supermarket.

When I come home during the day, my daughter screams, "DADDY!!!!!!" and runs and gives me a big hug.

When I come home at night, one of my cats who I've had since I was a kitten and is now going to be 8 in September, waits for me in the window and meets me by the door. I named him Pecks because when he was a kitten, he would peck you with his nose. I want to clone him and make more because he really is the most perfect pet ever.

They're wonderful animals, so loving, loyal and affectionate. I have two, but I want more.

We'd had a couple cats for about 18 years in New York, each with one of the two basic cat personalities--Petunia, very, very clever, communicative, demanding yet truly affectionate when she wasn't pissed off; Zoë, the littler and younger one whom my wife got in a subway station ("Will anybody on this car pleease take this little cat? Otherwise we'll just have to leave her on the platform where she'll starve or get eaten by the rats. . ."), a bundle of long-haired, easy-going, snub-nosed affection. After many years Petunia died. Not so long after, we moved to SA and brought Zoë. She adjusted quite well to the change in climate as she was an indoor cat, but her time came a couple years ago. About a week after we buried her, and both my wife and I feeling pretty sad, we were working in the yard out in front, I remember it was raining lightly and there were puddles in the front walk. Up walks the soon to be named Casper the friendly ghost, who meows greetings, sits down right in the middle of a puddle and doesn't leave. Breaks both our hearts, we feed him and he's been here for good. We wonder if it's metempsychosis sometimes or maybe the beneficent feline sending from one of ours who has gone on to one of those who remain.

I'm writing too much, but we have a puppy now and it's a hoot watching the two of them play together.