Well, I brought home Shadow and the purchase price was a handsome 30 dollars
(for a Patio kitten! Supposedly been wormed and had her baby shots - her
supposed age was about 8 weeks.  Along with Shadow I bought one of those
horrid little carpeted scratching posts with a pompom on a spring, a really
stupid carrier and several cat books from the bookstore at the mail.  She
was pretty mellow on the trip home, looking quite ridiculous in the big
carrier.  The Ex (who wasn't an Ex yet) was with me and was pretty cool
about it.  I think he may have said do you want her brother too?  There was
just something about how her brother was in that litter box that made me
think he was sick, so I passed on her brother.

I got Shadow home to our 3rooms of squalor, set up a dishpan with some
litter I picked up at the supermarket across the street and set down 2
tupperware of kitten chow and water.  Shadow was pretty cool.  She checked
out the place then I showed her the litter box several times and she was a
good kitty and finally used it when I wasn't "looking" (turns out she was
shy that way then).  The scratching post was a hit in a dumb way, she would
charge down the hallway in a flat out run at it, leap near its top, topple
it over, her hanging on and then when it was conquered prostrate she would
remove the spring with the pompom and prance around the place with it in a
victory lap or several laps.

Next day I took her to the vet and he said she had worms.  She was probably
a little older than they claimed. He told me never to get a kitten from a
petshop, yeah, I know I know.  Gave her first shots probably for the first
time (never get a kitten from a pet shop I know I know) and I brought her
back home.  

My Ex worked graveyard shift the whole time I was married to him, had been
off work the first night. Second night he left for work about 10pm and that
was the start of the Tradition.  Shadow, who had been pretty laid back (for
a kitten) most of the day, ate her dinner, used the litter box and came
charging at me.  I mean charging.  Sideways.  Tippytoe. Arched back.
Fluffed out.  All at the same time! She scared me.  Really scared me.  I
thought perhaps she was having some reaction to her shot and was panic
stricken enough to call my vet at the hour.  He said she was probably just
getting the zoomies and to lock her in the bathroom for the night.  So,
armed with a pillow that blocked the blows of the attacking two-pound
kittycat, I herded her into the bathroom and shut the door.  Her meows were
pitiful and the sight of the little white paw poking under the door, I
couldn't do it. I let her out and I locked myself in the bedroom instead.

Yes, I know, I know.  For the rest of her life, when Daddy went to work, so
did Shadow - trying to get a rise out of Mommy again.  It never worked, I
never fell for it again but she kept trying. Years and years.  Chrmpphhh...
tippytoe... fluffout... backup... tippytoe... charge ...leap sideways.  You
know the drill.  

Sue