As I mentioned earlier, we got a cat. He’s super chill and I love him already. We knew we wouldn’t be keeping his original name, because…well, it was the same as Buddy’s. Not happening. We are still working out what to call the cat, although the front runners are Po, Mikey, and Chocolate Chip. I like Chocolate Chip because he perked up when Daddy asked Kitten (here on known as Kit to avoid species confusion) if she wanted chocolate chips in her pancakes. I also like the idea of a cat who appreciates chocolate, even if he can’t have any. So, this story is about the evening we picked up little Chipper.
Kit and I went over to the home of the Cat Rescue Lady to pick up the cat. She opened the door and rushed us in before any of her cats got out…her many, many cats. Many.
In the one (small) living room I counted about 25 kittens sharing 4 very large cages that came up to my shoulder. Some of the kittens stayed in the cages and some wandered about wafting their various odors up at us.
Oh, the odors! Wow. Just, wow. At least Cat Rescue Lady had the grace to acknowledge the smell and apologize for it. “How many cats have you got in here?” I asked, trying to contain the urge to hide my nose in my shirt.
“Oh, it changes daily. Some of these guys are sick, or going in for surgery. They leave and others come in.” Great, my child and I are hanging out in a kitten half-way house. I indicated that I had to get home for…something really important…ya, that’s it. So, we moved a long to the paperwork.
About 10 minutes in to our necessary information session, a little grey and black tabby started to climb my leg. He was super cute and looked just like my first kitten which I got when I was 12. I had named him Skittles and he was my pride and joy until he passed away when I was 23. As I bent down to untangle the kitten’s surprisingly sharp claws from my jeans, the Cat Rescue Lady tsked, “Skittles! Get down from there!”
I nearly swallowed my tongue. “That cat is NOT named Skittles,” I said.
“Ya, the shelter named him that. It’s cute, right?” While my mouth hung open, a little white and orange cat snuggled up next to Skittles II. My sister’s cat was white and orange…just like that one.
“Umm…that other cat doesn’t happened to be named Sunny, does it?” I asked cautiously.
“No reason.” Reality restored.
We continued to fill out the paper work while I willed the hair on my arms to go down. I casually asked how old Chipper was exactly. She gave me the cat’s estimated birth date and I almost jumped straight out of my chair…Buddy’s birthday. The cat with my son’s name also has my son’s birthday. Is the hair standing up on your neck yet? Because mine was.
Apparently, we got the right cat.