"Kitty cat, kitty cat, going to get a kitty cat," my sister sings.

Lilly is three. My mom decided that since Lilly's going into kindergarten soon, we should get her a cat. My uncle, his name is Shawn, usually watches Bear, and she okayed it with him to get a new animal.

Bear is my puppy. Mom got him for free, and convinced my dad to let us keep him. They didn't tell me so; I just know. The city doesn't pay them enough to afford a purebred black Labrador Retriever, and it would never have been my dad's idea. He and animals don't always get along. Bear gets along okay with him, but they generally avoid each other. Bear is my dog, and my responsibility. I may be six, but I'm also about to enter eighth grade. But that's a different story.

Daddy's saving up to buy a horse. There's a horse rescue in Garden Grove offering an adult female Palomino named Baby for fairly cheap, and he almost has enough. He's so excited, he built a stable. It's in Uncle Henry's yard. They have a deal; Dad gets the yard to keep the horse, and Uncle Henry gets the manure to use as fertilizer in his garden. I think Dad got the better end of the deal.

We just got to the animal shelter. Mom has to carry my little brother, so she can't herd Lilly in. That's why I help. Lucas is only ten months old, so Mom is usually pretty occupied. Since Lilly is so little, she doesn't always listen very well. That's where big brother Logan swoops in. I'm holding her hand so she doesn't run ahead. Mom didn't even have her carseat unbuckled before she tried to get out! By the way, sitting next to carseats sucks. It's squishy and painful. Most eighth graders get to ride in the front, but since a kid under 12 can't legally be in the front seat, I don't. We don't break the law in this family.

"What are you looking for, little boy?" some woman wearing too much perfume asks.

"Please don't patronize me," I reply.

"What a big word for a little boy," she remarks. I just roll my eyes. Dad taught me it's a good solution until I'm old enough to carry a concealed weapon.

"Wogan, wook at da kitty bwudda! I finded a kitty!"

Lilly is pointing at a large adult rat.

"That's a rat, Lil."

She shakes her head, and points at a Chinese Crested. "Wat."

"That's a doggie."

She looks confused. "Wooks wike a wat."

I nod, then lead her to the cats. "These are kitties."

"Kitties! Mommy, mommy, wook! Wogy found da kitties!"

"That's great, Lil."

My mom looks tired. I'll get us out of here.

"Look, Lil. Isn't she cute?" I ask, pointing at a Calico.

She nods emphatically. "Mine."

"Have you made your wittle pick you wittle cutie pie?" the annoying lady asks us in baby talk.

"With all due respect, ma'am, we are humans. Please stop speaking your alien language, and don't refer to my sister as a sugary treat."

The woman looks suitably taken aback, so I feel I've done my job.

My mom is laughing. "Stand down, Logan. He gets that from his father."

The lady looks less amused.

"What are you going to call her?" Mom asks.

"Kobe," Lilly replies.

"That's kind of a boy's name, but it's your cat, I guess."

I can't help but laugh.

"Fwooooogy," my little brother shouts, bouncing in his carseat. Logan just turned one, and Mom decided to get him a pet he can watch. She decided on a toad.

Daddy and I are going to have the honor of feeding it and keeping the tank clean. It wasn't something either of us would have chosen to do, but Mommy is stubborn and it's best to stay on her good side.

Daddy and I agree that spending $50 on a pet you can't do anything with is silly, but Mommy has some idealized vision of how perfect this will be. She keeps citing the difference in cost of upkeep for a dog or cat, and a toad. I think it's a silly idea all the same.

The Firebelly Toads are $6, and they need a tank, aquarium rocks, a filter, and a land spot. It all adds up to $49, and Lucas lets it go as soon as he gets the container. Now we're chasing a toad around the parking lot.

Lilly caught it. Or rather, Lilly decided to lie down on the ground, and she caused a significant enough roadblock for Daddy to catch it.

Lucas just keeps laughing and clapping. Brothers.

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I'm 15 and have two Bachelor's degrees, and I'm still getting dragged along to this. Lilly, who's eleven, had some big project to do. I'd go back to 8th grade with her if it meant getting out of this. At least Lucas got dragged along.

Liam, the little surprise yet not accident that came into our lives three years ago, is yapping on about something none of us can understand. He seems to be a sports prodigy, but he's not overly smart. He's smart, but it's pretty average smarts. He seems to think if he talks about it enough, it will happen sooner.

Mom is getting him a dog. An adult female Jack Russel named Scout, to be exact. We're picking it up from my Aunt Lauren's as we speak. She belonged to my aunt's coworker who's just moved into an apartment. We have a big yard, so it's a better place for her.

Still, I wouldn't trust a kid who tries to ride my dog, with a dog of his own. Especially one he can actually get on top of.

Well, reader, wish us luck. We're going to need it.