Well, *that* worked out well, didn't it?

By *that*, I mean the plan to adopt the cat which #2 daughter begged for. I wanted an older cat. Calmer. Less need for attention and/or correction. Less likely to jump on the counters the second my back is turned. With short hair. Already "fixed". Maybe even previously declawed, if I'm lucky! Won't cry all night the first week 'cause he misses his momma. Uh huh. A noble plan to adopt an adult cat likely to be put down without our intervention. Yup. Great plan. Meet two-month old Rudy. No, he's not really dead. Just dead to the world after three hours straight of tearing around the house, underfoot, exploring his new home. I can't believe I was talked into a $125.00 Pound cat. And I'm a dog person. He better learn to bark at strangers, if he knows what's good for him.