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Even though Aggie knows Barbara takes really good care of her, she hadn't expected for her to so readily agreed to Aggie's request for a pet. She hadn't really prepared any arguments or bargaining chips, thinking that she'd be asked to wait or simply be turned down. Instead, her guardian had agreed, saying something about companions and responsibility.

Of course, she'd had to do her homework before Barbara would take her and Aggie had spent more than a few afternoons sitting quietly in the library, reading about cat breeds and their various requirements. Then she'd used her allowance to get some toys and dishes and a litter box. Then and only then had they gotten into Barbara's van to pay a visit to the animal shelter.

"Thank you," she says quietly. She's said it more than a few times, but figures it bears repeating.

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"Just remember, he or she is going to be your responsibility. I'll pay for everything, the vet visits and essentials, but your'e cleaning the litter box, wiping up any vomit, and shampooing the carpet if there are accidents." Not that I think Aggie won't, but I want to be clear about expectations. Dad had been, and I can't think of a better example than that.

We pull up and I find a parking place. I've already called ahead to let them know we were coming so they knew and I have to admit, I'm as excited as Aggie is. I haven't had a cat since I was a kid and I've missed it. "Come on, then. Let's go find this little witch a cat."

"I know. I promise." Her first time around as a child, in rougher surroundings, Aggie had put up with her fair share of chores and she's not about to run from them now. She's dug gardens and mucked out barns; a few hairballs are nothing to run from.

As she hops out of the car, Aggie tries not to bounce. "And I can pick any one I want?"

"We'll see. We want to make sure we get one that's going to be okay living in our apartment, so a cat that was raised as an outdoor cat might not be the best. The people working here will know, though." I really want her to think about this, weight all the options. I can't imagine having a pet that wasn't happy with us and I really don't want Aggie to be in a position of having to give one up.

Aggie nods, thinking that it's sensible. "And it has to want to want me too, I think."

"That, too, they have rooms that we can take the cats into to see if we all get along, once you've picked one you think you like." And I've made sure I have the rest of the day off. This could take awhile. Or it could take no time at all. Either way, I want to makes sure this is as good for Aggie as possible.

"And remember, we don't have to get one today, so if none of them really feel right, we can come back another time."

She nods again and then lets herself be led into the cat room. Several of them are in little cubicles along the wall and a few of them range freely in the lounge area.

She's drawn to the kittens for a moment, cooing at their tiny paws and chirping mews, before she moves on to see everyone else.

I move off to the side, not really paying particular attention to the cats. It won't be mine, not really, and it's Aggie's choice so I don't want to skew any results. There's a small bench, I guess so people can sit and play, so I take a seat so I can watch. Aggie seems to be taking a methodical approach to it and I can't say I fault that.

"What are you looking for in a cat, anyway, Aggie?"

"I don't know, really. I figure it'll choose me, right?" Aggie sits on an adjoining bench, watching as a few of them come over to get a look at her.

One in particular, a large, fluffy black cat, comes and shoves his head right under her hand and begins purring incessantly.

If I have to be honest, I could have seen this coming. I mean, black cat, witch, it kind of writes itself. But I don't say anything as I watch the cat make friends with Agatha, wondering how long it's going to take her to realize she's been claimed. Cats are kind of like that, they either like you or they don't and this one has apparently made up his or her mind.

"Go on, scratch behind its ears. They like that."

Aggie laughs and rubs the cat's chin and ears, listening to the sound of purring hit a new intensity. "Maybe I do need a pointy hat," she observes.

"I could always get you one for Christmas. A Christmas stocking and black pointy hat. I like that." There would be no lack of wry joking about this in our home, I can already tell that. But the final decision in Aggie's even if it already feels right to me.

Aw, man, neither of us will ever be able to wear light colors again. The shedding is going to be ridiculous, isn't it?

"Maaaybe," she agrees, drawing out the word. The cat flops into Aggie's lap and then twists, looking up at Barbara expectantly. Idle hands are the devil's playthings, he seems to think, and they are better put to use on his fur.

"I think he likes us."

"I think he does, too." I move closer to Aggie, detangling a kitten from my bootlaces as I go. The laced boots were probably a mistake.

Reaching out, I offer my hand to the cat, letting him sniff it and decide if he really wants me tot ouch him. Some cats have precious short tolerance fuses and I don't want to overload him while he's in Aggie's lap.

For all his massive size and fluff, the cat seems to have adopted a personality of long-suffering indifference. He responds to Barbara's petting with closed eyes and a motor-like purr, an emperor surrounded by servants.

"I don't think he'll let me leave without him," Aggie says, giggling.

"Do you want to leave without him? 'Cause it looks like the feeling's mutual." He's certainly making himself at home with the two of us here at the shelter. I hope he's this chill at home. If we get him home and he completely freaks out...

Oh well, bridges to cross when we come to them. The important thing is that Aggie's happy.

Aggie shakes her head, smiling as she rubs the cat's ears. His eyes close partway and Aggie nods, convinced now. "He's coming back with me."

Picking up the near-massive cat, she finds the matching packet taped to the wall. According to the paper, the cat is a probable mix of a Maine Coon and Norwegian Forest cat. And named Abner.

Aggie looks back at the cat and shakes her head, "You're not an Abner."

"No, definitely not an Abner. But we can fix that later, right?" After a few days, maybe wen they've gotten to know the guy. Every cat was different and it would be up to Aggie to figure this one out.

I motion to the shelter worker and point to Aggie and the yet-to-be-renamed Abner. "I think he's it."

Aggie grins as he cat refuses to leave her lap and the forms have to be brought to them. She's very fond of him already, even though his face is just slightly squashed, giving him an impish, goblin-y sort of look.

"Do I fill it out or do you?"

"I'll fill it out, I have to, I'm the adult." Which still freaks me out a little when I say it, but yeah, compared to her I totally am the adult. I'm in charge. Of me and her and I just have to hope I'm not screwing it all up for both of us.

I follow the worker to the counter and start writing in all the essentials, names, dates, addresses, blah, blah, blah, as well as handing over my card for the adoption fee. And just like that, my little witch has a cat and I have a folder full of vaccination histories, owner tips, and vet recommendations. "C'mon, let's get him in the carrier and get him out of here. His parole's come up."

Aggie laughs and leans over Barbara's shoulder to watch her fill it out. She has no doubt that Barbara's filling it in correctly; curiosity is what has her watching. "So we have to give him new shots every year?"

Another worker assures them that the cat will be out in a minute because they're microchipping him with their information and Aggie nods, though she's clearly a little fuzzy on the details. "How does it work?"

"Every year. And the chip is just like a collar, only he can't take it off. It says who he is and where he belongs." And so far as I'm concerned is one of the best things to happen to pets in a long time. I have no idea if he's going to be a roamer, but I know we're going to try to keep him indoors as much as possible.

"Just like I have to get shots every year?" Aggie asks. She makes a show of wrinkling her nose, though even she has to admit it's really not that bad, especially given what she's endured on her own before.

"Just like you." Poor Aggie, she got stuck with so many needles, but then she'd never had ANY shots so she had to start from somewhere. I can't even imagine what state she'd be in if we'd done nothing, all the vaccines and drug treatments and the eradication of disease, it's kind of scary to think about.

"Everyone gets their shots, even me sometimes." You would not believe some of the things I've been on contact with over the years. "But I'm sure he'll be just as much a trooper as you are."

"Or he'll make funny faces like those cats I saw on the internet," Aggie says. She's still a little fuzzy on computers and the internet, but she's managed to find and revisit several pages of funny cats.

"The doctor said that I made a funny face when I had them, but I didn't make any noise or anything."

"That's my trooper." I put my arm around her and give her a hug right before the volunteer hands me the paperwork.

"And we are now the proud owners of Abner, or whatever his name will be. Let's get him in the carrier and take him to his new home, okay?"

Aggie grins and hugs Barbara back, wondering how she got so lucky. Having Barbara is like the best combination of a mother and a big sister.

She takes the rattling cardboard carrier that they hand her and Aggie leans down to look at the cat through the tiny holes. The sound that comes from the box isn't quite yowling, but it's somehow both plaintive and utterly indignant.

"He sounds like a goblin."

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