I got my cats-Crash, Muffin and Uncle Sam, from a pet supply store. The lady who ran the store had found a little of nine (or possibly 6) kittens outside. She took them in and bottle fed them. My dad was a police officer stationed near her store, and one of his friends on the force was a cat lady. Our previous cat had passed away a few months prior, which cleared the way for me to get kittens. I had been promised two kittens after Twinkie, my parents cat, died. When we learned there were three 8-week old kittens looking for a home, I begged that we go.
I don’t remember much of my childhood, but one of the clearest memories is the day we meet my furbabies. I looked at them and instantly decided they were going to be mine. They were the last three, all curled up in a big blob of kitten fur at the top of a double story black wire cage. I was determined to get a girl because I wanted a cat named Muffin (there was a toilet paper commercial at the time featuring two cats playing with toilet paper and one of them was named Muffin). The first kitten in the pile was a brown and white little boy, then there was a teensy ball of brown tabby fluff and finally, at the very end was a little gray and white little girl. Well we all knew we were getting the brown tabby in memory of a previous cat, and I was dead set on a girl, so that was two of them.
I was in love with all three of them the second I looked at them and of course in my little mind I was already planning on ways to talk my parents into getting all three cats. (One of the benefits of being an only child is learning how to get your way, especially with Daddy.) I started to work my magic on my mom. I begged and said we couldn’t leave one behind. They are small kittens, I will take care of them, I will do everything for them! My mom was steadfast and kept saying no. When I pleaded that they were just small kittens she said “They will get bigger.” I don’t remember if there was a response when I said I would take care of them, but I am sure she was skeptical, doesn’t every 11 year old say they will take care of the new pet? Then to my surprise my dad chimed in saying we couldn’t leave just one kitten behind. He said he remembered leaving a dog behind at the pound when he was little and always wondered what happened to that puppy; he didn’t want to always wonder what happened to that last kitten. I don’t remember what happened the rest of the time there I just remember that as soon as my dad chimed in I just KNEW I was getting three kittens. The next bit I remember is driving home with three little balls of kitten fur in a giant cardboard box. And thus starts my life with three of the best cats in the world.
That first brown and white fluff ball, the one who would have gotten left behind, was my Crash. The love of my life, the cat who saved me. I am grateful every single moment that I was blessed enough to have him enter my life. Uncle Sam was the middle brown puff of fur. Ironically my chubby bubba was the runt of the litter; there were days we were so worried about him because he was super tiny. Then he learned to eat. And Muffin, my beautiful little girl was the gray and white kitten at the end. True to my word I did everything I could to take care of those cats. From the moment they came home with us until right now I have done everything in my power to care for them.
We decided that July 2 would be their birthday, as it was eight weeks from the day we got them. So, here we are 18 years later and I can’t believe am wishing Muffin and Crash a happy birthday. Sam has been gone for four years, which breaks my heart. After everything I have been through with Crash in the past few weeks though, I am ever so grateful to have both him and Muffin around to wish a happy birthday to.