Run up the flag, the Princess is in residence

There was an article today on CNN.com about the dogs rescued from Michael Vick's home. They were at a rehab center in Utah, being socialized with the hopes that someday they would be able to be adopted. And while some of them will never leave the rehab center, they will have a true home there. One where they are cared for and loved. Where they never have to fight again, or live in fear of the monster known as Michael Vick.

It made me think of our pets, and how much we love them. And that's all they want. They want to be loved and to feel safe and happy. Just like people do, really.

I met the furry love of my life at the Atlanta Humane Society. She was in the cage with another cat, a feisty orange one that kept climbing on the door. A tiny gray kitten with funky cream markings just sat there, quietly licking her paw like she was too cool for it all. It was love at first sight, and Daphne came home in a cardboard pet carrier. (Although she didn't have a name for the first couple weeks. I had to figure out her personality.)

Adopting a pet is a learning experience. The food I bought before I went to pick her up was unacceptable for her royal highness. No, she did not care for the Eukanuba kitten formula. It was Purina Kitten Chow for her, thank you very much. I have learned a lot of other things, living with the Princess Daphne Marie. Here are just a few of them:

1. She is so excited for me to come home from work that she is always waiting right by the door. It's either that or she really wants to go OUT the front door.

2. She can read. I know this because whenever I am reading something, she has to crawl in between my face and my book, so she can follow along.

3. Changing sheets is a fun game not to be missed. She can be in a deep sleep on the other side of the apartment, and the minute I start changing the bed sheets, she is right there, laying across the mattress. I have fully made the bed with her under the fitted sheet. It's not really that fun for her after that.

4. She looks forward to the weekends, too. She gets wet food on Saturday and Sunday, and she knows when it is Saturday or Sunday. From the moment I get up to the second I say, "Who wants some stuff?" I get no peace. She's in my lap, she's in my face and she's underfoot crying to get my attention. Sometimes, I just need my coffee first.

5. I could put perfectly chilled bottled water in her bowl, and she'd still rather drink out of the faucet or the toilet.

6. Through some twist of physics, any new article of clothing I buy is covered in cat hair before I even take it out of the bag.

7. The whole bed could be cleared off, except for a pair of black pants. She will curl up in a ball on those pants.

8. I don't buy her toys. She prefers the plastic rings that come on gallon milk jugs. She bats them around and carries them from room to room. Every day when I come home from work, they are piled in her food dish. If she runs out of them, she'll swipe one of my hair ties.

9. No matter what the commercials say, scoopable/clumping cat litter does not work. It's "sticky," but no where near the hockey puck of easily scooped whatever that they would lead you to believe.

10. Spiders and moths are magically delicious.

11. Every apartment I've ever lived in is haunted, and 11 p.m. usually begins the "witching hour" when she will stare at nothing, and race around howling and growling like her tail is on fire.

12. (best of all) She knows when I am sick or sad. She'll follow me from the bed to the couch and back, curl up in my lap or next to me and just purr. It's a very peaceful sound.

It's getting late, and the princess is curled up at my feet. Wanna go sleeps, Daph? "meow," she whispers. I'll take that as a yes.