Friday, May 24, 2013

My Beloved Cat

My step-sister had a pet cat named Raja (after the tiger in Aladdin). Raja was stuck up and avoided everyone around the house at all costs.

Her other cat was named Sunday. He was a lovable, out-door kitty who enjoyed walking up to everyone and having them pet him. I had great times hanging outside with that cat.

Then we moved out to the country. We lost Raja to the road (which cats should never cross) because people don't understand speed limits and go 70mph down a technically residential area. Our neighbors lost two pot-bellied pigs that way...

Then we lost Sunday to a mole he had tried to go after that ended up turning on him. Moles are evil.

So we decided to get a new pet cat named Daffney. She was technically an indoor kitty, but mom wouldn't let her in the house so she had to learn to live outdoors. She fell victim to the road one week later (cats really really shouldn't cross the street).

I was pretty devastated. Mom didn't really care. We never got another cat after that, although the neighbors cat ended up adopting us and decided to stay over for a while. We named her Saturday.

Then I moved into my dad's house when I was 18 to start attending college out in the city. I had never had a pet cat of my own up until that point -which was tragic. Then my dad said out of the blue, "Let's get a cat."

It was a happy day, as it always is walking into anywhere that has a bunch of kitties and puppies. I wanted to take them all home. Then we started scouting the cats in their cages and tried to decide who the top 3 contenders were.

There was a young kitten with black and white spots that was named Angel. Very adorable and ranked high on my list.

There was an older, gray cat named Velma who my dad seemed drawn to. Old was not as appealing to me as young kitten and Velma also had some health issues so she got a lower score in my book.

Then out of nowhere as I was wandering cage to cage innocently window shopping for cats, this paw came out from around the corner of a cage. A very spirited cat was trying to paw at the cat in the cage next t him. I said, "Awe he wants to come out and play." The woman in charge of the cat room opened his cage and handed him over to me. A gray and white tabby kitten. He was as lively as he was cuddly. We have a winner!!!

It sucked that we couldn't take him home with us immediately that night. But he needed to get spade or nudered -whichever one is for dudes -and he needed his rabbis shots and vaccines. By the time he came home he was pretty drunk on medication and he weaved back and forth when he walked. He tried jumping on things and never quite made it. It was hilarious and adorable.

The Humane Society had named him "Rembrandt" after the impressionist artist. I decided pretty quickly he was far more like Andy Warhol and needed a better name. Initially it was going to be "Spaz" -because he was one. But my dad said he would mellow out eventually, so instead I named him after a singer I was a fan of who had a similar last name and he was hence forth known throughout the land as "Mraz".

I continued to refer to him as "Kitten" though. Kitten enjoyed walking into my room in the middle of the night to terrorize my window drapes, and papers that needed to be ripped and sprinkled across the floor, my desk chair which needed to be whirled in, and random items that needed to be plunged off my shelf and ont0 the ground.

Then when he was done destroying my room he would hop upon the bed and crawl over to me. He would always sleep right on my neck -which my allergies did not appreciate. I complained about it to my dad one morning and he told me, "He thinks you're his mom. He wants to sleep as close to you as possible. He'll eventually grow out of it."

And he did. He started sleeping on the end of my bed faithfully throughout my college years. He also began waking up at about 4am to scratch at my closed door so he could run downstairs and grab a mid-night snack of kitty food. I tried shutting my door to keep him out a couple nights, but there reverse would happen and he'd bang at my door to get into my room.

Besides our misplaced sleeping habits, we have been the bestest of friends for about 7 years. I love my cat and the other family members we got from the Humane Society over the years. 

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