Kitty. March, 2012

Barely an audible sound is easily choked out at this point. I've downed so many cups of lady grey with honey that I caught my first glimpse of the bottom of my tea tin. It reflected my half-open left eye, all distorted and dull as I miserably tapped my chipped finger nails against the side of the box, flicking in the curled black leaves and rinds, as Kitty snaked around my pickery calves. I gruffly muttered a greeting as she flopped onto her back, exposing her pristine white belly, downey soft and forbidden. I gently patted her middle with my foot twice. Her eyes bulged comically, claws out, she clamped around my foot like a bear trap and I hobbled to the sink moaning with my tea cup. It never hurt when she latched that way. It never hurt when she nibbled and sucked on my toes, but pretending that it did seemed to excite her. monster. 

She's my cat. It seems strange to say since I love in this house with her and my family, to say she's my cat... Well... Let me explain. I was sad. No. I was depressed. I was completely breathless every moment of wakefulness. This boy, this dumb boy made me tired and worried and scared. I couldn't take care of him. I couldn't say the right words or do the right thing. I was utterly heart broken. My chest felt like it had this great dead weight instead of a heart. I cried constantly. I cried myself to sleep. I cried in my sleep. 

 My mom asked if I wanted to go to the shelter. I quickly showered and dressed, I didn't bother with makeup because I couldn't help it. I cried the entire time I got ready. I looked like hell. I talked about stripes. I talked about white and grey! I wanted a male. A kitten! A little guy to care for. My voice shook. I felt so nauseated and weak. It took everything to hold back tears. I was excited and afraid. 

 I held kittens and big boys. Stripey, wild looking things. I ohed and awed all of them, scratching their little heads and indiscriminately kissing behind their ears. I didn't think. I just loved on them and hugged them close. As I was slipping a kitten back into its pen, something patted the top of my head. I looked up to see a lazy calico with one limb slipped through the bars of its pen. She swiped at me again. Mom reached in for her and held her like a baby. "Oh my... This one passes the cuddle test! She's pretty, isn't she?" "She's... Alright. Can I hold her?" I've never really liked calicos. I've always thought they looked so mangy, like they had had a terrible dye job or something. I nuzzled her with my nose and scratched under her chin. I'll be honest. I didn't want to go home without adopting one. I needed something. God, I really did. I could feel my phone heavy in my pocket. I could feel it cold against my ass with the reminder that he'd yet to say a small hello for the day. Not a "good morning." Not a "go to hell." I draped the skinny calico over my shoulder. "I know she's not a kitten, but she's smallish. She seems young." "I dunno..." She tilted her head to the side like she does and ruffled the fur on top of the calico's head. "She is sweet." "I like her a lot, mom." "She did ask for our attention, didn't she?" We came home with her, of course. I wanted to cry the while way home but I just held onto the kitty and loved on her. I thanked mom and chattered about toys and collars, all of which mom bought. I fought tears the entire time, it was so sweet what my mother did for her heartbroken daughter. I tried to be strong, covering my fragility with some happy-go-lucky babbling. Names and catnip and oh god, I'm crying now thinking of it. On adoption papers it stated she was six months old and 5lbs on March 23rd. She's now a lovely 11.8lbs, spayed, and grumpy as can be. It took us days to come up with a name. I loved Sophia and fifteen other terrible cat names, but I just couldn't make a decision. It wasn't until I was sitting at my desk, texting below my keyboard at work one night that I did come up with a name. A perfect sound alike with my own when given my last name. I texted him, trying to sound cheerful. Trying to relax and smile. Maybe nudge him to smile. "What if I call her Kitty? Is that terrible? She could be my sidekick." "No, kid. That sounds beautiful. It really does. Nothing could be sweeter. Kiddo, I need to tell you something awful." "If it's bad, wait until I get off of work." I sent the text and stared at my phone for a moment before sending another. "No. Tell me now. Waiting is torture." So he did. So I quit. Without a word, without a sound. I wrote a note. I transferred the phones to the nurses' station. I left my name badge. I locked the office. I went home. That night I tucked myself and Kitty into my bed under my thick, teal corduroy blanket, and as I pet her and nuzzled her, I did not cry myself to sleep.