Friday, February 19, 2010
As I was digging through the computer, looking for pictures to use for this very blog, I came across three pictures of a fella who is very, very important to me.
In August 1997, fate crossed my path with that of a wee kitten, a dumpling. It was the weekend of August 31 — the weekend Princess Diana died, which is the only way I can remember the date. My cousin Laura and I, and her then boyfriend George, were heading to an Aerosmith concert in Indy. I crashed on Laura's coouch the night before the concert, and the next morning, she woke me up asking if I wanted to see a kitty.
There was no question - of course I did.I got up, went to the back porch and there was George with a grey kitten in his lap. My cousin pointed to the neighbor's driveway and said there was another one in the wheel of the car. In the wheel?
Sure enough, I walked over, and the hissing started before I even knelt down to take a peek. I could see the eyes, and stretched my arm through the wheel, and into the wheel well, and wrapped my hand around a kitten. But he was a squirmy buggar, and slipped out of my grasp, ran to the neighbor's house and ran up the screen door, crying and hissing the whole way.
I rescued him from his precarious position, took him back to the porch and cuddled him. It sounds so corny, but the moment I looked into those tiny, beedy little eyes, we were bonded. That night, he slept in the crook of my neck. He has been my constant companion for the last 12.5 years, and these kitten photos brought back wonderful, wonderful memories.
He is laid back, the most un-cat-like cat you'll ever meet, and the cat that helped Derek to become more of a cat person. He is my Bubby Gato, Senor, Lord of the House, Sir Mickey.