Our first cat, Kitty, came to us in 1991. Kitty’s blue eyes and grayish blue and white long coat was impressive. When I got home from the hospital after delivering our first son, I saw him for the first time as I walked up the sidewalk toward the house. His hunger over came his fright of people. He and his sibling lived behind our garbage cans until one day the sibling moved on. I know he did because I later saw him living at a near by house. Each day Kitty came closer to the food bowl when I fed him. He lived with us for 13 years. We didn’t get another cat right away.
One summer morning, my oldest son and I sat our on a quest to find our new kitten. The newspaper and Adsack had free kitten ads, but we wanted to adopt a homeless kitten. We hit all the local sights: the Human Society, PetsMart and PetCo. We couldn’t find the right one so we hoped Animal Control might have one for us. There he sat looking through the bars from the back of the cage. My son and I persuaded the guide to let us hold the white flame point Siamese. He pawed and scratched while trying his best to get away from us and out of there. Not detoured by his behavior, we carried him to the office to begin the adoption process. My son held him as I filled out the necessary papers. Suddenly, he leaped from my son’s arms and hit the woman sized middle aged lady smack dab in the middle of her chest. Everybody scrambled to catch him. Worried about his wild behavior made the pet shop our first stop. The cat harness and leash a primary concern as we couldn’t let him out of our hands afraid he would find himself in the same predicament he just got out of or maybe even worse. For two weeks we held him, had him on the harness and leash or kept him in an exercise pen. Between my two sons and me, his little white paws rarely touched the floor. As time passed he settled in and became a wonderful, one of a kind friend.