The first two cats that we had we got when I was three. One was mine and one was my sister's. I named my kitty Mousey, despite my mom's great efforts to sway me to a more dignified name. My sister names her cat Danger, because she happened to be learning about the Iditarod in school then, and Danger was the name of a cat who ran the Iditarod and was able to get help when his team was in danger, or something like that. Mousey was an excellent cat, but Danger peed everywhere. My mom finally gave him away. My poor sissy was devastated. For the longest time, she forbid me from saying his name in her presence. It was kind of dramatic. I was in awe of her drama, though, so it worked.
Then, when I was in kindergarten, my school bought a cat named Millie, who wandered the halls of the school and came in classrooms and stuff. It was weird. Then my teacher asked my mom if we wanted to take her home over summer break. I was delighted, so we took her home for a week to see how she did with Mousey. Mousey despised her. Apparently, after Danger left, Mousey developed a deep hatred of her own kind. Unfortunately, Millie loved to spend all of her time in our basement, where the litter box was. So Mousey took to peeing on the carpeting upstairs. Millie did not get to stay with us for the summer. Mousey never stopped peeing on carpet.
When I was seven, we moved to a farm, and so we got two little black kittens to be barn cats outside. Again, one was mine and one was my sister's. I named mine Cutie-Patootie. My sister named hers Friskey, because he was Friskey. I don't remember those cats very much, but I know that I loved them, and they were very playful. When I was eight or nine, Cutie-Patootie ran away. In my devastation, I got a new kitty from some friends of ours, who I named Snickle-Fritz. Snickle-Fritz was an insane kitten. He plotted against you and would jump out from random places and attack your legs. He also seemed to be quite deaf, because he would never move out of the way, even if you were in a giant truck that he was lounging under. One day, it was storming out, and a girl was at our barn riding her horse. There was some thunder, and her horse freaked out, and stompled Snickle-Fritz's leg. He had to have a little kitty-cast on for a while. After that incident, he became very fluffy and lovable, leaving behind his days as the demon cat.
Eventually, Friskey also ran away. The friends who gave us Snickle-Fritz dropped off another cat, who my sister named Charlie. Charlie and Snickle-Fritz loved each other. She was the sweetest little kitty, and quite the little acrobat. I don't know how she did it, but she somehow would climb up into the rafters and leap about up there. It was kind of incredible. But one day, she got stuck in a groundhog trap, and then got a terrible infection, and we had to put her down. It was terrible. She was just a kitten still.
After a few years of cleaning up Mousey's pee off the carpet, my mom finally banished her to live outside. She is still trying to wrap her head around this fact, five years later. The other cats have a ball chasing her around because she hates them all so much. It's hilarious.
Several years ago, a girl who rode at our barn found a little abandoned kitten around her house, so she took him to our barn to stay so he wouldn't die. He was the cutest little black kitten. I named him Stuart (you see, I left behind my days of ridiculous names!). He has now grown to be bigger than even Snickle-Fritz, who is, admittedly, very plump, because he's figured out a schedule, and he makes his rounds around our neighborhood and all of our neighbors feed him treats. I have to hand it to him, he's quite clever.
So, that brings us to the close of this kitty narrative. We still have Mousey, Snickle-Fritz, and Stuart, and they are three very fluffy, adorable kitties.
The End
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