Who Picked Whom?

Who picked whom?  

As I write this post Abby, my cat, purrs contentedly on my lap. She likes to spend her days shifting between Chuck's lap and mine, but if truth be told she likes Chuck's lap the best. I'll do in a pinch, but the look of adoration on her face while gazing up at him is a dead give away. 

I was remembering, though, about the day we brought Abby home many years ago. Chuck had taken a fifteen year old Brittany out for some highway driving, and it was during this excursion that they hatched the plan of getting a kitten. Brittany's arguement was that, although we had a cat when she was born, she had never had a kitten of her own. 

Popcorn, her first cat, had passed away earlier that year, and I was not missing having to keep up with the litter box. That is probably the main reason why we had not already gotten a new cat. My first pet had been a cat, and I had always had a soft spot for kittens. However, it didn't take much arm twisting on my part, and I agreed to meet them over at the McKinney SPCA.

As luck would have it there was a plethora of kittens available that day,  and we had a roomful of choices. I had decided on the ride over that we should pick our next kitten on friendliness, not just cuteness. Sure enough when we walked in I was immediately drawn to a calico kitten hiding under a chair. I had to resist the urge to pick her up knowing that it was probably better to pick a more outgoing cat. 

Brittany and I sat down, and waited to see what would happen next.  Within seconds a sweet little tan and white kitten jumped into my lap. A minute or two later she jumped down to get a bite to eat, but as soon as she was finished she jumped right back up, and made herself at home.

The shelter volunteer pointed out the fact that this particular cat must have really liked me as she had returned to my lap. It didn't take long to decide that this friendly kitten would be the one, and her little girl name, Abby suited her perfectly. 

Now I wish I could say that Brittany and Abby became  inseparable, but when you're fifteen you'd really rather be over at your friend's house, so Abby basically bonded to me. There never seemed to be any love lost between those two, and Abby's dislike of Brittany seems to have passed down to our grandson. Because of this I've learned to treat Abby kind of like the lion at the zoo; best viewed from afar when it comes to our grandson. 

As much as I like to think that I chose Abby that fateful day, I think the truth is she chose me.