All familiar characters belong to Janet. Mistakes and the last minute story detour are all me.

"Olive!" Steph called. "Don't take off on Mama and Daddy like that!"

Our daughter isn't exactly running off since we're in the fenced-in yard behind the Rangeman building, but I admit to being as curious as my wife about what caught Olivia's attention so completely. Typically, Gunny and Mo take point and she follows their nosy lead. Not today. Steph put her down on her angel-winged-Chucks, Olivia looked around for half a millisecond, and then she zeroed in on a far corner of dying grass right before leaving skid marks behind as she raced to reach it.

I had been on the phone getting an address for someone I need to see, but I ended the call and Steph and I were suddenly moving as one almost as fast as our baby. Our concerns weren't helped when Ammo and Gunner, who'd been right on Olive's heels, stopped a foot away from where she dropped to her belly to look underneath the small table and chair set we keep out for mild days like this one.

I reached Olive before Steph did. I curled an arm around her little body and lifted her up against my chest in case she'd stumbled onto something that could potentially harm her. Beside me, my wife's curiosity took over as soon as our daughter was safe in my arms.

"Oh my God," my wife whispered. "How cute are you?"

That question didn't make much sense, but I know that tone. The 'I'm gonna save you whether you like it or not' Stephanie has entered the backyard. My fears were confirmed when she reached between the chair legs and the chain link fence that had curled up along one edge. I made a note to mention it to Louis and get it repaired ASAP, and then I glanced at the ground and braced myself for what I knew was coming. Steph is the one who declared Olivia in need of more space to run, and me some fresh air, and it wouldn't surprise me if her Spider Sense had her suggesting the backyard. My fears increased that Olivia's itsy bitsy Spidey Sense has grown exponentially, since she knew something was on our property.

"Thanks, Olive," Steph said next. "You found a kitty instead of something scary like a snake or a giant bug." She curled her hands around the dirty ball of gray fur and held the creature similarly to how I'm holding Olivia.

Olive started to reach over to touch the animal and I immediately took a step back with her so she couldn't. I'm having a hard enough time not telling my wife not to touch it in case it has rabies or is infected with something else she could catch. I was relieved to see that at least our dogs sized up the situation correctly and were looking at the intruder with matching confused head tilts. They don't understand Rex, either, but at least that wad of fur stays contained inside an aquarium sixty-percent of the time. This pound of fur is touching one of their humans, and they don't approve.

When Gunny touched his nose to the tip of the matted tail, it caused the cat to scurry up and half-hide between Steph's neck and ponytail. The idea that she could get scratched had me motioning the boys to stand down. Like Mo and Gunny had been when my family had rescued them, this cat isn't exactly a kitten, but definitely isn't full-grown either.

"Be careful, Babe," I told her, longing to go back ten minutes in time when Atlas was my only pressing headache.

"Why?" She said, reaching up to try to keep a hold on the furball before it burrowed into her jacket hood or the curls it could sink its claws in.

"Because if it doesn't have a home, it's essentially a wild animal with all the possible diseases they're prone to catching."

Olivia stopped trying to touch the cat, but I'm very familiar with how Stephanie operates. Our daughter has learned from the best on how to get around me. One distracted glance I give into could have her descending to the ground via my back.

"How can you look at this face and say it's diseased?" My wife asked me, holding it up so its orangey Halloween eyes locked on me.

I ignored the look despite being sympathetic to its cause. "I can say that because I'm a realist who doesn't want my wife bitten or scratched by an animal with no medical history on file."

The damn thing meowed pitifully and then headbutted her chin before tucking its body safely beneath it. "Is this the behavior of a wild animal? He/she already likes me. That reminds me …" She picked it up and looked for any sign that it's an unneutered male. "Lacking the necessary equipment, it looks like we've got ourselves another girl."

"We don't have anything except a squirmy toddler and a cat that shouldn't be in our yard."

"You're right …"

"I know," I said, interrupting the inevitable.

"You didn't let me finish," my wife said.

"I cut you off for good reason. You'll see this as some kind of sign, or be overtaken with a sense of goodwill, and then our pets will outnumber our kids by two."

Since the kitten/cat did not appear to be interested in maiming my wife, I put Olivia back down but moved in closer to Steph to prevent our baby from making any sudden grabs for the animal.

"You convinced me that I shouldn't panic about having a baby because we could handle it, but you're freaking out about a pet that people say can basically take care of itself ninety-eight percent of the time?"

"I never 'freak out'," I reminded her.

Olivia yanked on the bottom of my jacket and pointed to the cat. I want to sigh and thank God that Julie isn't here to join their forces and gang up on me too. I picked up my baby again and cupped my hand around hers so she could pet a less dirty section of fur, with my fingers between her skin and the cat's mouth.

"Ita gado," Olivia turned her head to inform me.

"It is a pequeño gato, Olivia," I told her. "Your Spanish is better than Mama's."

"Ha-ha, very funny. So it's decided … we now have a cat."

"No we don't," I told her. "We have three toddlers, two canine and one tiny human going on thirty, and a geriatric rat. Plus Lester and Atlas. We don't need any more pets."

"I could've said that when Atlas showed up, but I didn't. You said he needed our help and I didn't complain …"

My eyebrow went up, way up. "You didn't?"

"Fine, I did … which by the way I was totally justified in doing since he's being threatened and that has involved us and our guys."

She's good. She didn't even need to point out how fascinated and quiet Olivia has been as she tried to get a better look at the face under the gray fur.

"The boys and I have the majority in our home. Adopting that thing will tip the scales back in your favor whenever Julie's home."

"And?" Steph asked. "Outside of business, your daughters and I know what's best for you, which is why you usually end up listening to us … eventually. Taking in a girl cat won't change how we've been living."

"Steph …"

"No, no Steph-ing me. That means you're going to try to say no. Think about it. She obviously doesn't have a home … no collar, oil marks in her knotty fur, a sad, barely audible cry. And we have the best home for her. Plus, she's got curly hair just like Olive and I have. We adopted/sorta stole Mo and Gunny when Shiv was having a problem down in Miami. So in keeping with our Rangefamily tradition, we should take in this little girl while we're in the middle of figuring out Atlas' mess."

"Which we should be getting back to, not playing with a cat," I pointed out.

"Okay. Olive, the boys, and I, will clean up and feed our cat while you get back to tracking down who's behind the threats to his girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," I said, now ignoring the triumphant spark in her eyes. "They haven't seen each other for a while."

I was protesting Atlas' relationship status instead of denying my family their cat, so she knew she had won. I learned decades ago that you win the war by carefully choosing your battles. I was alright with giving it a place to stay, but if this cat becomes a problem, it's going to be immediately rehomed to Tank's place.

To make sure my approval sticks, Steph fired a kill shot. "You remember the cat I had when I was a kid?"

"I didn't know you then, so I don't remember the cat, but I remember you telling me how it ran away and you never had another pet until you moved out of the Burg."

She leaned over and kissed Olivia's cheek while narrowing her eyes at me. "You're just a regular comedian today. Did I tell you that I wanted another cat, or a dog, heck even a fish, but my mother told me I was too irresponsible to have a pet, that losing my cat was proof of that. I still can't say for certain that she didn't let her loose on purpose, or maybe even gave her away, so there wouldn't be any more cat hair on the couch."

Just when I think I can't despise my mother-in-law more, a renewed burst of rage emerges.

"I already caved, Babe. You don't have to aim for the heart."

"Love you too," she said, giving me a kiss this time.

I turned my head so I could capture her mouth. I deserve a reward for being a good guy. I reluctantly let her lips go and tried not to picture how hectic our evening is going to be after I get back.

"Are you gonna help me get our rescue some supplies and then wrangle it into a bath? You've become a pro with our dogs."

"I'm practicing this for when our daughter gets older so here goes … you want the cat, you're responsible for the cat."

She sighed, but I know it was for show. "That's fair. You want One Shot here, so you have to keep him breathing."

"That's the plan, Babe. A couple calls, a few visits, and a well-placed threat or two, should accomplish it."

"Maybe he's up for a pet store run," she said.

"It would take his mind off of things out of his control."

"Probably not in a good way, but I can accept that. Do you need to leave now? Or can you hang out with us for a few more minutes?"

"Afraid that Mo or Gunny will eat the thing when you're not looking?" I teased, pulling out a chair for her with my free arm before settling Olivia and I in another.

Our dogs moved in and the sniffing began as I called Ella and asked if she could bring out a chicken breast sandwich from the control room kitchen. Olivia has milk in her lunch bag, but I unfortunately had to learn during my childhood that cats can be lactose intolerant, and you don't want to be the one cleaning up the results of that.

I dug out a bottle of water, poured some into the cap, and nudged two dog-noses out of the way so I could offer it to the cat.

Steph's eyes held mine as the kitten delicately lapped up the spring water. "Thank you," she said to me. "I get that everything about me has changed your life …"

"Which is exactly what I would thank you for, Babe."

I have a family I love, a home I can mostly relax in, and people I've allowed myself to befriend mainly because of her. I would never have asked for any of this, but only because I didn't think it was possible until I let myself love her.

"In honor of you, and just to prove you wrong about how fluent I am in Spanish, I think we should name our sneaky gray furball, Ahumado … because she's a 'smoky' gray color and clearly moves like smoke if she infiltrated the Rangeman compound."

"We don't shoot women, kids, or cats, on sight. I doubt that counts as a successful break-in."

"Okay, then you're successfully a good guy for putting restrictions on the bullets that fly around here."

She scooted the kitten to the side of her lap to make room for Olivia who was getting braver around it and now wanted to play.

"What time will you be back?" Steph asked me.

"Before supper if no one tries to lie and I get the answers I'm expecting to hear."

"Is Olive finally interested in sandwiches?" Ella asked, after she'd walked out of the building and over to us.

"To do more than dissect them?" Steph answered. "Not so much, but she found this little girl and I got Ranger on board with keeping her. I don't think there's cat food on hand, but organic, free-range chicken should work in a pinch." She took the sandwich offered and unwrapped it. "Okay, Olive. Work your magic and pull off a few pieces for the kitty."

"You may need to give the bread to the boys to get any food into her," I suggested.

"Good idea," she said, and we all watched two slices of whole-wheat be devoured simultaneously as the kitten was still gnawing on a shredded slice of white meat.

Olivia yelled and clapped her hands at all the activity going on around her. 'I still can't believe my life sometimes', was what I was thinking as I pulled my cell back out and connected with Atlas.

"I need you in the backyard," I told him.

"Why? We takin' turns on the swing?"

"You do realize that a funeral is cheaper than the amount of money I'm putting into keeping you alive?"

"Yup. And thanks … being an asshole is my default setting."

"You'd better reboot before you get out here. My wife needs a little help while I'm gone, and since I'm leaving to get answers for you … you get to do some pet shopping."

"You gettin' another one?" He asked.

"No, unfortunately we already have her, and we need supplies for the newest stray who wandered into our place."