Mr. Kitty was the first kitty I had. I was 13, and it had been a little while since we had to put down our dogs. I really wanted a kitty. My aunt at the time had a litter, and I begged and begged to get a kitty from that litter - my parents were adamantly against it. Sally was not to be discouraged, however, so for my birthday in 1988 we got Mr. Kitty. I went through a few tries at naming - most of which were rejected by my parents. So Mr. Kitty it was. He was the runty one - so tiny at the time. My parents didn't want him to bond with them, so they made me pay all the attention to him. I think it broke his heart when I left for college, and my heart was pretty broken back then too... I never got it together enough to bring him to live with me, and by the time I could he was so dispositionally sensitive it would have probably made him more unhappy to move than it would have made him happy to be reunited with me. I'll always regret not making it work to bring him to live with me though obviously so many other things were broke with me back then. Mr Kitty liked to eat, he liked to sit on his little oriental rug next to mom or dad on the couch. He liked to pee wherever he damn well pleased. He died today because he got ringworm so bad (mom & dad don't know from where) that he had to be put down. (Mom & dad have it too, now. They are wondering if they will have to burn down the house. Argh.) Poor Mr Kitty. He did have a long and pretty healthy life apart from that. Dad says up until his discomfort he really did enjoy everything about his kitty lifestyle.
Bye Mr. Kitty. I really hoped I'd get to see you again.