Last week my husband and I brought home an early Christmas present for the kids.

A small infestation of mice (we caught two in a week) was the clincher in making this purchase decision. It seemed the right time to replace Willie, our 17-year-old  cat who died last spring.

I have to admit that I was enjoying our pet-free home. I didn’t have to walk over floors littered with kitty litter, didn’t have to buy or scoop out litter, didn’t have to worry about shutting doors, or new furniture being peed on and most of all I loved having the space in the bottom of my wardrobe for shoes again — it had become Willie’s bed/hiding place.

So it was with trepidation that I relented to get a kitten.

The kids had quit asking when it was going to happen, resigned that it probably wouldn’t — so they were quite surprised when we came home with the furry bundle. Maggie’s jaw dropped when she saw the kitten and she hasn’t stopped saying thank you. Lilly named the kitten Lucy and miraculously everyone agreed. They all follow the kitten around the house and Jonah keeps forgetting her name. It’s been very entertaining.

So now we have a pet again. And I have to say — it was quite sweet to fall asleep with a little purring fur ball curled up next to me that first night. And a little less sweet to wake up to something pouncing on my feet.