It was late afternoon when a pair of weary hikers entered the visitor center where I worked.  I heard a small squeaky voice before seeing the large fluffy cat with the amazing story. Tigger had approached the couple at a wilderness lake and followed them six miles back to their car.  The animal shelter was already closed, so he came home with me for the evening.  We woke to his mellow purring on the pillow between us.  When he died 16 years later, we grieved.

Those years involved a lot of work travel and moving.  We were busy parents to an active teenager.  We also felt the vulnerable pain of losing a loved one.  It was easy to decide that any future pets would entail less care and bonding. Fish were fun, and yes we grieved when the silly upside-down catfish died.  But we got over it faster, and flushing was quicker than burying.

During the second half of our married lives we have enjoyed the freedom of an empty litter box.  But over the past few months something changed.  I started longing for a purring body on my lap and a chatty meow when I get home. Lyle has been noting those symptoms with a tinge of alarm.  While he loved Tigger and took care of him those many years, he appreciates the simpler life.  Though I have promised that this time I will do the food and litter, he has every reason to question my follow-through.  But it will be different this time.  Really, it will.

I fell in love with her online picture, visited the shelter, and went shopping for supplies.  Then, before committing, I offered Lyle the option of a veto: Silence.  Silence withholds enthusiasm. Silence preserves the option of saying that he told me so.  Silence also, I have found over our years together, communicates mixed emotions, begrudging acceptance, and a willingness to indulge my most recent harebrained scheme.

Aspen is fluffy and chubby and terminally cute.  She looks a lot like our beloved Tigger, which bridges to a happy past. She is calm and affectionate. She is diplomatic and knew enough to hop into Lyle's lap before gracing mine.  She is curious and has a familiar tiny, squeaky voice.  Did I mention that she is cute?

It is a big deal to adopt a furry new child at this time in our lives.  We are used to the comfortable emptiness of a pet-free home.  I believe it is good for us to open our hearts and share our lives with someone new.   I believe it is good for her to add a young and playful spirit to a quiet, loving home.

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How have pets played a role in your life?  Do you take special joy from the companionship of a furry family?  How do the challenges balance out with rewards?