I am NOT a furry animal person

We have tried to have pets, we really have. We have adopted cats and dogs from the humane society, we have taken them from friends and family, we have rescued strays who had puppies/kittens on our property, we have even paid for them (never again). Our lawn has been dug up, gardens destroyed, children bitten, stitches needed. They have peed on my carpets, shed on my couches, run away, only to be found again (dang it!). We have given them away, buried them (they died first), taken them back to the humane society. We just are not good with furry pets (and when I say we, I mean I). I just do not like animals (other than my children) who have to be fed and watered every single day, who poop and pee EVERY SINGLE DAY, who need more attention than I can afford to give them. I don't' like to pet them, hold them, touch them, smell them - I can't stand barking, wet noses, crotch smelling, hairball hacking. I don't like to clean up after their very messy selves. I just don't like dogs and cats.

So this goes out to our dear neighbor who was just thinking about how happy she would make my boys by giving them the poor neglected kitten that she got for her daughter. Her daughter is 18 and is never EVER home to play with the cat.

Let me tell you about this furrball. He (I think - can't quite get a good look) NEVER holds still unless he is eating. He runs from one end of the house to the other all the freakin' time. He jumps HIGH!! he chases anything and everything that moves and even a few things that don't move. He has a cute little bell on his collar, so no one ever has to guess where this tornado of destruction is. He eats anything and everything. He will leap onto the table in one bound and knock whatever he wants off - fruit salad, chili mac, spaghetti, peanut butter and jelly...you name it. He is ALWAYS hungry - would eat nonstop if I let the kids feed him. They love to give him hotdogs and luncheon meat.

He is pretty funny. He follows the boys around like a little puppy. He will go everywhere with them and when I call the boys home in the evenings, the silly cat TEARS across the fields to be the first one home. His name is Ollie, but I don't think I've ever called him that - oh no, I have better names for him.

He does have one redeeming quality, although it in no way makes up for the fact that he is a cat. He does not use a litter box and we have not had one accident in the house. Yay for little things, right?

He is pretty little still and those crows outside look pretty hungry...