“Not that one,” I murmured to my husband as our three-year-old son singled out a sleek black kitten from a litter of four that scampered about his feet.

“But it’s the most playful!” he pointed out.

“I know,” I sighed. Lifting my voice I said gaily to my son, “Look at that little quiet one sleeping beside its mother.”

Steven barely glanced at it before scooping up the green-eyed baby he had claimed as his own.

Looking around the neatly kept family room of these strangers who were selling their six-week-old darlings for five dollars apiece, I could see the people who lived here cared for one other and their pets.

“They’re litter-trained and starting to eat kitty chow,” the middle-aged mom offered kindly from the doorway.

Mentally I notched a few more points for this candidate. At the last house the kittens stayed in a cardboard box on a messy porch that fronted a littered lawn. The scruffy man who had answered the door seemed annoyed by our questions. These people were pleasant.

“Are the kittens very active?” I asked. Some people let indoor pets climb drapes and straddle kitchen counters, but ours would not.

“They’ve just begun to climb,” she replied, “but I keep after them.”

Exchanging looks with my spouse, I said. “We’ll take the black male.”

‘Shadow’ has been with us eleven years now, more than earning his keep by patrolling our property for mice, moles, and chipmunks, and even the occasional snake. Avoiding most fights with other cats and faithfully grooming himself, Shadow is a perfect companion for our son with whom he has grown up. Now fifteen, Steve still plays tag with Shadow or sneaks him into the bedroom until I show our feline the door. Despite my initial worries that a male cat would claw, climb, run, or spray, Shadow has proven a charmer and become a bona fide family member. We are fortunate to have him, after working through a few negative experiences to find our gem.