Pete is our oldest pet. I think we had been married only 6 or 7 months when we got him. We weren't really looking for a companion for our first cat (Moe...the cat that thought she was a dog. Smartest animal ever, I swear.) but we saw Petey in a pet store. A local owner had brought a litter in and the store was helping them get adopted out. My boss at the time had already claimed one of the kitties and when we saw Pete all alone in this huge cage we had to take him home. We named him Pete after Pete's Wicked Ale and because it's a joke that in my family all the men are named Pete (Seriously...my grandfather? His name is Eugene. Everyone calls him Pete. My Great Uncle on my mom's side? His name is John. Everyone calls him Pete. And there are several more examples. Big Pete, Little Pete, etc., etc).
Our Pete is getting older. He'll be 12 next month and he's very set in his ways. He doesn't like new situations or people (usually) or puppies (!) But, he's very sweet. Yes, he will lick your hand until you pet him in the middle of the night. Yes, he meows like crazy until you talk to him when you're in the bathroom. And yes, sometimes he eats too fast and throws it all right back up. But he's my baby and in some ways a reminder of who Jeremy and I were before kids (young and so, so naive!)
I love this picture of Pete looking as skeptical and as hopeful as I feel about this Ohio sunshine. Is it real? Is the sun really shining? Can I really come out on the deck? (Ok, that's his question, not mine but I do know how nice that late afternoon sun feels on your face...)
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