I Adopted a Polar Bear

When I was three, my best friend was the grey, pot-bellied cat that my parents had rescued from the SPCA. During the summer, I would follow her around our sunny backyard, taunting her with leaves and having epic swordfights--waving twig versus madly flicking, crooked tail. During the winter months, I'd feed her milk that I'd warm in the microwave and fall asleep to the sound of her incessant meowling.

When I was six, we added a German shepherd to our family--a female, because my mom was of the opinion that a female would be smaller. She may have been right, but, since the dog grew to be over a 100 pounds anyway, it probably didn't make that much of a difference.

“We need to talk”: Conversations to Have When Moving in Together

We were heading back from a family function at the tom cat’s sister’s house out in the suburbs, our sleek little hatchback vibrating as she shot down the highway like a dirt-smeared silver bullet. I fidgeted in my leather seat, stared out of the passenger-side window and fixed my gaze on the silhouette of a distant mountain, hazy-blue and dotted with snow patches. Shifted my eyes over to the tom cat, fidgeted again and cleared my throat.

“I, um… We need to talk about something.” I confessed awkwardly, fingers twining in my lap.