This weekend my family had to let go of a pet for the first time since I was 13. His name was Itty Bitty Kitty. He was called that because when he came to our house, we had a Mister Kitty (who you'll see in some of these pictures) and Mrs. Kitty (alternately called Ms. and Miss from time to time) already, and he really was a little teacup full of kitty when we got him. To hear the stories he had a kind of rough life; found by my grandmother under the hood of her car as a kitten, he was born in Monroe, Michigan. When my grandmother couldn't take care of him anymore, my dad, the avowed cat-hater and utiliser of bricks and burlap bags somehow was convinced to bring him home to Norfolk. Over the years he had to have a tendon in his leg replaced after being bit by some sort of raccoon or possum, and his ear inflated with infection and deflated so that it always kind of lopped over, never the same again. But in between all that stuff, he was always the friendliest and most affectionate and playful cat we had, the other two being a little less human-friendly. Being the youngest and least stressed-out cat we had, I'm pretty sure we thought he'd outlast Mister and Miss. This weekend while my dad was out of town Itty started having seizures. A family friend came to help my mom gather him up and take him to the emergency vet, but no one there could figure out what was wrong with him. They think something had just gone wrong with his brain, possibly cancer. We'll never know I guess. I think mom and dad will miss him alot and so will Mister Kitty. The fourth picture down is of him on the top stair rail - he used to like to chase his own tail over it. He was a cutie.