I am re-reading "The World According to Garp". The last time I read it I was about twelve years old. I had a cat named Garp who had gotten stuck under a neighbour's house and the two guys who lived there were helping me call the cat out. One guy was musing about what it must look like, three faces peering in at poor Garp. The other guy said,
"Yeah, the world according to Garp!"

After explaining to me why that was so witty, I read the book. I certainly have a different view about Jenny Fields now than I did back then.
I did not name the cat - he was given to me, fully grown, by another neighbour. He was dark black and very muscular. A very cool cat.

For a long time afterwards I was convinced that it was better to adopt a full grown animal than have to go through the pressure of raising a small kitten or puppy. I even felt that way about children. I mean, it's the first couple of years of one's life, the ones with no concrete memories, that can be the most scarring. Wouldn't it be so much easier to raise a child starting at age, say, five?

I know what you are thinking, I certainly wouldn't want a five year old child trying to squeeze through my pelvis - nevermind try to carry that sucker to term.

You're right, I wouldn't.