The Two Stories of Armory

Story that we told Emma (Because, yes, we are horrible parents that, on occasion, lie to our children):

The people that Daddy works with in the National Guard have a cat that they adopted as a group. Each month, someone new takes care of him. Late October, it was our turn. A couple of weeks later, Daddy asked around and Yes! We can keep him! The guys are tired of passing him around and it's time for Armory to have a permanent home! Yay! We have a cat!

The REAL story:

There once was a stray cat that hung around the National Guard Armory and nearby restaurants. He often came inside the Armory to be played with, pet, and fed by the soldiers there on the weekends. No one there or in any of the surrounding businesses knew of any owners.

It was a crisp, sunny fall afternoon. Emma was busy with a play date and Jason had taken George for a drive to keep him occupied. They went to the Armory. The cat was there. Jason opened the side van door. The cat jumped in. The van's tires squealed as they raced away from the scene of abduction.

I got a phone call that the boys were taking a large, grey cat to the vet to have it checked out. The vet declared him healthy, (declared him an already neutered him), and said that if it didn't work out, one of the assistants there would adopt him. The cat was brought home. Quickly named Armory in dedication to the abduction site. And presented to a skeptical Emma. (Remember, she had recently lost two adorable kittens and had NO desire for an adult cat, thus the above story).

By the end of the afternoon, Armory had chosen Emma's bed as his favorite napping spot. By the end of the next day, he was greeting her at the door when she returned home from school. By the end of the next, she was calling him "her" cat and asking if maybe we could keep him. Whew!

He fits in frighteningly well with our family. Both kids carry him around the house in all manner of strange positions. He and Emma stalk each other, then cuddle for hours. He and Gracie tolerate each other. He roams the neighborhood, but always comes home and scratches at the door to be let in. And he likes to sleep in a sink that has a leaky faucet. Strange? Yes. Perfect? Oh heck, yes!