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    dots Submission Name: To My Little Orange Tiger Kitten :)dots

    Author: Vasudeva
    ASL Info:    43/M/irrelevant
    Elite Ratio:    5.12 - 24/27/23
    Words: 856
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 688
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 5639

       The Time: 1983
    The Place: Boston, MA
    The Event: A very cute ruffian: orange, tiger-striped who adopted us...

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsTo My Little Orange Tiger Kitten :)dots

    There was an ad for Filene's Basement (in Boston, MA)
    on TV today.
    My roommate Laura used to work there, in 1983.
    And I thought about my (our) precious little orange tiger kitten, who adopted us then....

    Butchie, this is for you!

    Oh, how I love your sweet memory,
    but I still cry over what happened to you.

    You were so determined to get out of prison!

    You found a way to climb to the top,
    while all your furry siblings
    stayed at the bottom of the cage.

    I thought that such effort and determination
    deserved to be rewarded.

    I took you home!

    You announced your presence
    to my roommates thusly:

    You saw the platter of spaghetti
    on the dinner table.
    and with determination
    focusing so intently
    that nothing was going to get
    in your way

    You ran on top of our dinner table
    and leaped right in the platter!

    I said to the roommates,
    (after I picked you up out of our dinner)...

    "Uh. Guess what? I got a kitten today!"

    When Laura said I didn't ask permission,
    I held you up, and said

    "Awww! Look how cute!"

    (I have never had a cat who
    was engaged in a labor of love like you did,
    seemingly always cleaning your underbelly
    from sticky tomato sauce,
    every time you managed to
    "score" some)...

    If a human roommate (who even
    pays rent, after all)
    did what you did,
    They'd be history.
    Real quick.

    I suspect kittens are cute
    for a reason...

    Since I adopted you
    in the Spanish part of town,
    I named you "Poncho."

    But one day, Doug (a wary roommate,
    who had a sandwich
    in potential jeopardy)
    said to you:

    "Watch it, Butch!"

    And Laura immediately chimed in:

    She thought "Butch" was a perfect name for you,
    and could not be convinced otherwise.

    That's how you were named.

    (A cat lover, Laura also had
    a cat named "E.T.").

    We finally resorted
    to banishing you
    to the bathroom, during meals,
    because we (4 adults)
    couldn't keep you (1 little kitten)
    off the dinner table.

    And you would let forth
    the loooooooongest,
    most pitiful, mournful,
    meows I have ever heard.

    Shakespeare had nothing on tragedy.
    This was a tragedy of major proportions,
    to you.

    And E.T. had a trick. She used to open
    the bathroom door all by herself!

    Instantly you were on the table again!

    One time, I was cooking spaghetti sauce.
    You walked right up me
    and perched on my shoulder.

    Then you made a nosedive for the saucepan!

    I caught you in midair!

    And put you back on the ground.
    You climbed back up, but the gig was up.
    I was on guard.

    So that is why you were named "Butch."

    Laura loved animals, but not people.
    She also liked cocaine.
    I had to move, I knew.

    Then, a knock on our front door.
    The neighbors were holding you.
    You had fallen from our 4th floor sun deck!

    (Probably in your enthusiasm,
    leaped after some bird.
    Maybe you thought you could fly).

    You fell 4 floors,
    but managed (with
    determination of will)
    to climb up the stairs
    to the 1st floor apartment.
    And made yourself heard to them.

    You had broken bones no cast would fix.
    I cried in spite of myself, at the vets.
    You were sitting quietly on my lap.

    I told the vet I was in college
    and 600 miles from home
    and you were all I had!

    The vet said:
    "He looks like he
    is exactly where
    he wants
    to be!"

    She said he had a chance.
    If I would keep him in a cat carrier for a month,
    the bones might mend.

    So I did that.
    It must have been such hell for you!

    And I was moving.
    I had no other choice.

    The new roomie thought you would not be safe,
    where I was moving to.

    Laura immediately told me she would adopt you.

    I knew Laura loved her cats...
    They never lacked for the best
    of food and affection.

    (And she cooked a lot of pasta)...

    A couple of months later,
    I found out from a mutual friend:
    "Don't worry about Butchie.
    He is just fine!"

    I never saw you again,
    or was ever able
    to get any more information.

    Many years later, I adopted a little calico kitten.
    She was sweet and very affectionate.
    One thing about her, though...

    She had such a thing about
    being contained in any kitty carrier or box!
    She would absolutely go ballistic,
    for no apparent reason.

    And I wondered,
    Maybe, somehow, some way,
    Had you come back to me......?

    Submitted on 2007-02-17 18:53:05     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

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    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      Aw! This made me smile :) I adore cats (there's one sleeping next to me right now) and this was a great little story.

    My cat loves cheese instead of pasta, but if it's pasta covered with cheese she'll eat it. She'll eat anything with cheese or ranch dressing.

    It's so amazing how attached we can get to our pets, and how much joy they are able to bring us. More often than not I find more comfort in my cat than any human being, and she always knows when I'm upset, and gets extra cuddly :)

    Thanks for sharing this, it was very sweet!

    Cheers and God bless,

    | Posted on 2007-02-18 00:00:00 | by Mandi Gayle | [ Reply to This ]
    Some cute, happy anecdotes you have here

    I've had lots of cats myself. I won't say "owned" because they usually end up owning you lol. My favourite was a Turkish Van named Zulush, Turkish for 'little girl' (apparently called swimming cats for their disposition to like it for some weird reason; also, I think they're originally from Lake Van in Turkey or something). Anyway, I still miss that cat; she was the only one who would come to her name every time, and followed me around like a dog, I swear.

    This brought back a lot of memories of my vet nursing days--caring for a lot of strays, usually dumped kittens who were still blue-eyed and blind... I must've taken care of at least 100 kittens like that at my place (taking them back to bottle-feed etc)... and to watch them all go to great homes... that was the best thing ever.

    I should stop rambling.


    | Posted on 2007-02-17 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]

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