Green eyed stranger

This morning I woke to find the bright moonlight illuminating my sleeping four year old, who had slipped into bed next to me during the night, undetected. The glow peeking in through the window rested on his head and naked shoulder. I watched him breathe. Watched his lips purse together, then apart. Watched the gentle twitches in his face. I tried to imagine what he might be doing, seeing, feeling in his dreamland.

My love trance was interrupted by a shadow moving in and out of the light. I knew what it was. For several days now we have been courted by a green eyed friend. All black with mittened paws, he weaves himself around my husband's legs at the grill, and sings sweetly to the boys as they pass in and out of the house, watches over them as they swing and play outside. Now he stops pacing on the deck, knowing he has my attention, and presses his nose longingly against the sliding glass door. Surely I have room in my heart for one more.

The boys are elated by just the possibility of adopting this pet. Their pleas for a pet, mostly a cat or a dog, have been growing increasin

gly more persistent and clever over the past six months, and they've begun to rationalize my reasons for not adding a furry friend to our family. Recently, when I explained that it takes time to potty train a dog, and that th

ey have accidents in the house, my four year old pondered this dilemma for a few moments before responding, "It's okay, Mom. I'll put a diaper on my pet."

I don't know if this particular cat will become ours. I plan to visit some nearby neighbors tomorrow in hopes that he already has

a home. Six, in an attempt to expedite the adoption process, came to me with this drawing which he wants to bring door to door. But whether it is this friendly feline, or another, I think a pet is in our family's near future.