So, this happened:

That’s Byers, a six-month-old and most recent member of the Anderson household.  He comes via the Humane Society of Warren County–more specifically, he comes from that cat-area at Petco that we all visit when we feel like torturing ourselves.

And that’s how I found him.

With the snow, Lucy, our three-year-old mutt (her on the left; I should note that she passed the cat test when we adopted her almost a year ago, an event we smile sadly over whenever she gets into an argument with our other cat, Sam), has been getting anxious, so we took her to Petco to find some new toys.

While that was going on, I wandered over to the cat adoption area, something I do every time I visit, mostly for masochistic purposes.  Since my cat of eight years, Bender–

My old buddy

–passed in January of last year, I tend to cruise the cat section, wondering if I’m ready for a new cat, or if I’m just trying to replace my old-man-buddy.  Every time has been an answer of affirmative for the latter option.

Until Byers.

Right now, Byers is behind me, under my red chair, trying to determine if coming home was the best or worst idea in the history of cats.  Sam’s indifferent; Lucy’s convinced we got her a new toy.  The bug is trying to crawl under the chair after Byers.

Welcome home, buddy.