I didn’t want to live with a cat. I certainly didn’t want to live with a cat in my house. I was certain that I didn’t like cats. I was wrong.
Years ago, my ex-wife wanted a cat. She had grown up with felines and had great memories of them. I had grown up with a father who would sooner spontaneously combust than have an animal inside his perfect house, so I knew very, very little of cats or dogs from experience. At best, I was indifferent. But Melissa wanted a cat, so I decided to find one for her.
It was my sister, Mary, who found a stray kitten in Mountain Brook, which is an upscale Birmingham suburb very close to the local zoo. I had mentioned to her that I was looking for a cat, so she called me to come take a look when Melissa wasn’t around — so it would be a surprise for her. I went to Mary’s apartment to see this tiny furball who seemed more like a starving street urchin than the healthy kittens I’d seen in cat food commercials.
I got got down on the floor with him. He came over to me and rubbed against my face — gingerly at first, but then with abandon. I smiled and suddenly felt warmer inside. I didn’t want a cat, but something inside me did. What was I getting into?

Sorry, Newt: It’s not ‘isolationism’ to oppose invading other countries
If abortion is just simple choice, why is killing babies for gender bad?
If you’re still able to read this site, Harold Camping is wrong yet again
Egypt trying to prove democracy means tyranny of the majority
Is ‘majority rule’ moral even when the majority don’t want freedom?
‘Conservative’ GOP governors forget principles when their state involved
Without the state, who would plow roads? We and our neighbors will
UPDATE: It’s moving slowly, but DavidMcElroy.TV is coming soon