Now we are cat people.

In February we got a kitten, then 10 weeks old.

At $500, the startup costs for this venture were a little daunting and included a hefty pet deposit and increase in rent for our apartment, various supplies, and a sizable "adoption fee" required by the charity we got her from, as nobody else seemed to deal in kittens.

Yeah, she's a rescue cat, as they call them now. This may be virtue signalling, like making sure people know you compost or are deeply committed to recycling. When I was a kid you'd say you'd picked up a stray, and that's probably just how it happened. Made you sound like a bit of a cheapskate or someone who didn't care about quality. I guess things have changed.

Nala is marked by an M on her forehead, as it turns out all true tabbies are. We joke it stands for "Marti's cat."

I'm surprised how quickly I've become Nala's person. Or one of them. I'm afraid we both dote on her quite a bit.

There's something about touch, about the soft fur and all the purring; it meets a need I didn't realize I had. And taking a break from work to play with the cat or do something for her seems to do something for my outlook and energy level, too.

We talk and think about Nala a lot, but it seems to go further than that. We send each other cat comics. We watch cat videos on Facebook. We watched The Lion in Your Living Room, and I went through a whole series on Netflix called Kitten Rescuers. We lurk in the pet section of Walmart or PetSmart, comparing food or litter options.

Perhaps none of this would have happened if Nala was one of those standoffish, disdainful felines. But she's not. She follows us around, wanting to be petted or fed, and dashing ahead when she thinks she knows where we're going. Sometimes her paws or tail get stepped on; no help for it. She doesn't hide or sulk, though... she's right back there looking for attention.

This cat jumps on my desk and walks into my video conferences for work. (It's a little embarrassing, but always makes my coworkers smile.) Nala talks to us. Sleeps on our bed. Plays games with us... like "how high can you jump?" (see picture) "pounce," and "fetch"! (That one took us by surprise.)

Of course, all the kitty love leaves a mark, and not just on my heart. The claws were too small to do harm at first. As the weeks went by that began to change. Soon our furniture was in danger and I was covered with claw marks. Did a bit of research and ended up buying special scissors to trim her claws periodically. She doesn't like it, but my wounds have healed.

This week Nala is six months old. Happy half-birthday, kitten!