Dre and I went and adopted a black female one year old short hair kitty from the pound last week, with the help of one of our friends. We decided on the name "Miha," derived from the Spanish "Mijita," which means little daughter. Having a "daughter" will undoubtedly entitle us to getting a lot of crap, but the kitty's small and cute and precious and unconditionally loving, so I guess the name fits.

She was the one in the room of adoptable kitties who didn't meow non stop at us. She would put her paw out of her cage, as if to shake our hands; juxtapose that with the cat above her that scratched me in one quick swoop with what I perceived to be malicious intent. We took her into the play area, and she would come to us when we called her. It's fair to say that she will be spoiled into oblivion.


I fell asleep in the chair, and she came and jumped on my chest and also went to sleep on the first night we had her.

We're treating her for an eye infection right now, which she picked up somewhere along the way in the pound.

Andres bonding with the kitty.