We’ve done pretty much everything we need to do to prepare for Lenny’s arrival. I still need to wash a handful of things and install the carseat, but otherwise we’re as ready as we can be.
One member of our household, however, is not ready. She’s been the center of our universe for a couple of years, the center of mine since eighth grade. At that time, she was named Abby. She was a darling, half-starved bobtail cat that adopted my dad at his work one day. She soon won over our family and dominated our golden retriever. Once I went off to college, my brother claimed her as his own (he claims he won her in a game of Monopoly) and changed her name to Larry. A few years later, I changed it to Lars. She answers to all three and is much more like a dog than cat. She meets us at the door and everything. Here she is, in all her glory:
We’ve tried to tell her what’s coming, but there’s no way to truly prepare her for the reality of how drastically her life will change. Us either, for that matter.