BatCat, my BatCat.
Oh how you've grown the last few weeks.
You've gone from a tiny fluff of black fur - small enough to hold in the cupped palms of my hands - to become well, a sleek, sneaky cat.
We've officially gone from having a baby kitten to a growing preschooler.
Oh the terrible threes - or almost frantic fours - as you are now almost four months old.
From the claw marks on my arm (oh do you have a new puppy, I'm often asked) to the roll of toilet paper laying shredded in the living room, the fun is endless with the new ruler of our life.
From snuggles at night, to rides on my shoulder, you like me until the Lawman arrives home - and then you are all boy, ready to play.
Laser light, you betcha, that could entertain you for hours. Catnip mouse on a stick, that's the cat's meow.
It's all fun and games until supper time.
Forget the canned cat food, and heaven forbid we try dry cat food - everything you ate when you first arrived.
The Lawman has you spoiled. It's all baloney sliced off the pieces he gives to your brother Opie each night, or cans of tuna or chicken.
He even "protects you" when I try to buy you a treat. I wanted to get the "lickable" treat - some tuna and chicken concoction. He said no, you were a manly cat, and needed man food - the cat beef sticks to be exact.
You turned up your nose when I gave it to you, but when he did, well, that was another story.
It's been said that a dog loves you automatically, and a cat asks for a resume and checks references.
While the Lawman was an instant friend, I think you're still waiting to see what my references say.
You've even taken up boxing - playing with the "extra long" pull cord the Lawman purchased for the bedroom ceiling fan.
Whether it be the actual cord, which makes a lovely "pinging sound" as it flies above my feet, or shadow boxing above my head on your new found perch - the headboard, you seem to find hours of entertainment from one simple purchase.
You even have a new game. Starting at the foot of the bed, you run like an olympic pole vaulter to reach the headboard, using the covers and pillows as your springboard.
Oh BatCat. My BatCat.
You give us smiles, "cat kisses" and laughter. You've brought joy we didn't even know we were missing from our lives. You have wormed your way into our hearts.
You are loved.
P.S. The Lawman says you owe him. If I had filled out the paperwork at the vet, you would have been called Ballot, since you arrived on Election Day 2016.
Kaylea M. Hutson-Miller is the managing editor of The Grove Sun. Have an idea for a column or story? She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or 918-786-2228.