Before she joined our family, her name was Becky.
When I first saw her, I knew we had to adopt her. She was one of four in a litter of creamy, peach and gray fur, and I was drawn to her gentle spirit. She was the soft-spoken one of the bunch and loved to be held. Like every other time I've yearned to adopt a homeless kitty, we walked empty-handed. Four months later she was still sitting in that cage, but this time, she was alone. I wondered how she could possibly be the last to be adopted and saw it as our opportunity to adopt her.
We renamed her Amelie because of her curious nature and sweet disposition. She was meant to be ours, and she has been for the last three and half years. Our Daddy's Girl. Our girly girl. Our pretty Amelie.
On Sunday, we learned something about Amelie.
She has a penis. In a moment of tummy rubbing, purring, and... ahem... pleasure, we saw
So that's what we've been wrapping our heads around (and laughing about) for the last five days. The crazy thing is that this isn't the first time we were told we adopted a female cat only to find out otherwise! The same thing happened with Tolly!
Pardon me while I question the aptitude of veterinary professionals and mentally set my world right-side-up again. Amie's a boy. Amie's a boy. Amie's a boy. Amie's a boy. Amie's a boy.
Enjoy your weekend!