Happiness comes on little cat feet.

I've had a few less than awesome days this week. There's been sadness and irritation and disgust and a super mean lady who yelled at me on the phone because I couldn't find the exact book she was talking about and how dare I not be able to read her mind. Whew. Yeah. Not awesome. But you know what makes me happy? ...or should I say who? My kitty, Mateo. (Not that there aren't plenty of other things that make me happy: an email from the husband, a good book downloaded on my NOOK, cold Diet Coke, Sarah Michelle Gellar back on television.) But look at him. No, really. Look.

How can you not smile at that precious creature?

My husband and I discussed getting a pet before he deployed because I really wanted another being in this house after he was gone. You know, someone to talk to and keep me company, who depended on me, and gave me lots of affection. (Kind of like a husband.) Since there was no way on God's green Earth I was going to have my first baby with a husband gone for a year, we started our search for the perfect cat. Because I'm definitely a cat person. Don't get me wrong. I like dogs. I grew up with a dad who did, and still does, raise, train, and hunt with Brittanys. I'm pretty sure we had no less than six dogs barking their heads off in the backyard at all times. But inside the house? We had cats. Cats with an "I don't really care if you pet me and I'll walk right past you without a second glance, but whenever you need me most, I'll put my face right up in yours and purr my loudest until you feel better" attitude. And that's what I wanted. So we went to the animal shelter on base (because even our animals have to be USMC-approved) and found...him. (No, not the Marine. I already owned...uh, had...him.)

  Petmelovemetakemehome!

I was torn between getting the cute fuzzball kitten and getting the slightly older cat who clearly loved us. We decided on the more "mature" cat and it was best decision we've ever made. (Well, getting married was a good decision, too. It just took a lot longer to get to that one.) We named him Mateo after the section on base where my husband works. (NOT after our brothers Matt, much to their lament.) They were calling him "Edward" at the shelter so in honor of that, I gave him the middle name of Eduardo. (Eduardo in keeping with the Spanish theme and NOT any sort of connection to Twilight. *cough*horribly written teen fiction*cough*) Mateo is affectionate with everyone he meets, never scratches the furniture, and lets me put him in ridiculous outfits.

You're right. I DO look good in camouflage.

And the best thing about him?

He loves the Buckeyes. Just like his mama.