You know that saying about an old woman and cats? Does it apply to men too?

Last Christmas we lost Chubby, Phil's bulldog and longtime companion. Chubby had been through a lot with Phil- lived in Ohio, Georgia, and moved to Florida with us too. Chubby was a messy dog- slobber everywhere (a disgusting mass of goo!), hair everywhere, and finicky as the day was long. All in all, he was a great dog and we have some great memories of him. He is now safely above our refrigerator until Chubby's Garden can be started in the backyard.

My husband has always despised cats. I never heard him say a good word about a cat, and this always saddened me, because I am much more a cat person than a dog person. However, being a Mom of 4 has made me a 'no pet' person and I really understand why my Mom always said no. Anyway, to my shock, Phil came home last spring and asked how I felt about him bringing home a cat. I was really glad I was sitting, or I would have fallen over. Apparently, at his office, several stray cats had started hanging around. Phil became attached to Smokey. "This cat is different," Phil would say. And Phil would also tell me that Smokey was turning white already in the face and paws, so Smokey would be a great 'transition' pet since he had to be old. So, Smokey came home and he has been a wonderful pet for all of us. Phil had a new buddy. To me Smokey meant a stall on the timeline of getting a new bulldog and the agreement was no new pets until Smokey passes. Of course, when I took Smokey to the vet, we discovered that his is not old, he is actually only about 3 and I was also informed that the vet is currently serving a 26 year old cat. This discovery led to a rant-filled phone call to Phil reminding him of our deal and making sure he understood that our grandchildren are going to get to meet Smokey!

Of course I tapered off with the ranting, and we started thinking that maybe Smokey would like to have another cat around to play with while we were gone during the day. We went to the Humane Society to find them kitten-free and added our name to the waiting list. The next week, I was driving home from Lowe's and the friend we hire to help with the yard started yelling. "Mrs. Latta, Mrs. Latta, that guy over there is throwing kittens out the window of his car!" I said, no that he must be mistaken, the car must have stopped for the 'squirrel' I saw running. No, that's what Caleb had thought too until he saw a second kitten being chucked out the window.

I turned the car around and we began to search for the kittens. The white one was easy to spot and we snatched her up quickly. But we couldn't find the brown one. As we went further into the woods, the kitten ran further from us- it seemed hopeless. Of course the girls were ga-ga when we got home with a kitten. She could barely fit in the palm of your hand. Phil was not happy, until he came home from riding and saw how adorable she was and so we named her Bella.

The next morning the temperature had dropped 45 degrees. I was taking Molly to CCD and she was talking about the poor little kitty left in the cold woods. So, we pulled over so Molly could meow, just to see what would happen. We didn't hear anything at first, but as we drove another 15 feet from where we had last seen the kitten, Molly meowed again, and the kitten started screaming back at her. I was able to trample down about 10 feet of brambles to get to the kitten and called Phil, who promptly came and grabbed the kitten. He named her Atilla because she attacked everything in his truck, much like Atilla the Hun.

I had several offers from people to take at least one of the kittens, but who won't let one go? Phil- the anti-cat man! So we went from one transition pet, to a house of three cats. The two new kittens provide hours of endless entertainment, and Smokey has adjusted as well as can be expected. Now, instead of watching my husband grow old with his dog, he will be the Ol' Man with the Cats!