Kitty: Puss in boots

So I met this girl right… She called herself the ‘Sad Dinosaur’ and indeed she had a reason to be sad. Her Kitty cat was meant to have kittens but something went horribly wrong. A miscarriage. It happens. I know so because when I was younger I had a little cat too.

My cats name was ‘Puss’, an unfortunate name choice for a prepubescent boy but Shrek  (that movie with an ogre that finds a princess) had been making the rounds on the DVD player and there was a ginger cat in that which fell in the ‘totes adorbs’ category. Puss on the other hand was a street cat (or a neighbors cat without a collar) that had wondered into our lives for the better, but the point I am trying to make is that this cat looked like a tabby- the black/grey/all the earthy colors but orange sort. She didn’t carry a sword or wear a hat either, so the name never fit.

My kitty cat had claws though. Puss was a hunter. She took down local endangered owls is the same breath she took out lizards. Trying to teach us silly humans to hunt. A bit more than a year old when we first met, Puss was my kind of monster. Agile and quick on her feet, but, her tail in the air, defenses down when we brought her food. She always looked you in the eyes with a gaze that told you she was exactly where she wanted to be…even if you had just stepped on her tail accidentally.

We used to play some clever little games as well. She wasn’t allowed in the house which didn’t make much sense since there was so much space… so we used to lock her out the front door and then open the sliding door around back to let her in. She would scale the jagged brick wall and with the grace of an Olympic gymnast, maneuver her way over the railings and slip into the up-stairs balcony with nothing more than a muffled thud. She’d brush up against the door and puur to let me know she wanted to come into the the computer room.

Puss really enjoyed cuddles too. If she ever saw me just sitting there with headphones on, she’d come jump on my lap and use my jeans as a scratching post. She would spend hours just rolling around in my arms until she got super comfy and fell asleep in the most awkward position. I usually didn’t have the heart to wake her. This cat was like family to me.

As though living up to her name, Puss got around a bit. Aww little kitty. She managed to get pregnant twice while she was with us and the first time didn’t go so well. We took care of her and everything but she still wanted to hunt at night, which seemed alright to me. She always chose to come back home. On the night her first litter should have been born… Kitty really wanted to come inside.

She really wanted to come inside. Puss wasn’t allowed inside though and this night the gatekeepers were adamant. She mewed. So much. Then it stopped.

It was a really cold night.

In the morning, as soon as day broke I ran around looking for her. I had school but what did that matter? My super tubby cat was missing. She’s pregnant, She’s alone. I was instructed to leave for the bus in a manner that would make you think the sky was falling. School was important after all. 

We didn’t see Puss for a while. She showed up a couple of days later. Well… more-so I found her. She was hiding in the pool area among the leaves. She had two blue spineless blobs that she was trying to hide. She looked tired. I tried petting her but she wasn’t having it. I brought her food, she didn’t want any. So I left, she’ll come around

A few days later, she seemed to have regained her strength. She was on some sort of mission. She had had something in her mouth, I thought she wanted to play. It wasn’t the case though.  This time she was holding on to it. It was one of her kittens-dead. Kittens come in litters- in the wild cats eat their young to cover up the scent if there is a still birth. Cats are savage. This was the last one. She looked at me with the last of her babies dangling out of her mouth. She didn’t move, just starred. We had a moment. I broke eye contact first and she kept walking. She didn’t come home for weeks.



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