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When I was seven years old, I was obsessed with the idea of having an orange kitten. I drew them, read about them, and talked about them. They were my idea of “cute”, and I wanted orange kitten badly.
In December of 1999, my mother and I went to the local animal shelter, hoping to find the “purrfect” orange kitten I so desperately wanted. The shelter associates lead us through the cat area, pointing out the many felines seeking homes.
Although I had eyes for the flea-ridden orange kitten in the back, my mother had different ideas. “Who’s this cutie?” She asked. I rolled my eyes at the fat adult cat meowing at us from behind the cage bars.
“Oh, this is Jack.. He’s been here for almost six months. He’s scheduled to be euthanized soon.”. The associate added the last part a bit quieter to just my mother. I stared distastefully at the cat. He was fat, older than the kitten I wanted, and noisy. “I don’t want him!”
But my mother would have none of that. It was this cat or no cat. Five minutes later we found ourselves in the front office, filling out paperwork to take our new kitty home. “Would you like to hold him?” Asked the associate. “Fine.” As the woman lead my mother and I back to the cat area, I distinctly remember telling my mom that, if we got this cat I would “throw him out the window”.
The woman opened Jack’s cage, and put him in my arms. That’s when I decided that I needed to keep him. His pudge flopped about as he meowed and playfully squirmed in my arms. “I want him!” Jack was put to sleep on July 23rd, 2008. He was about 16 years old, and lead a great life. He was my best friend when I moved to a new school in 2000, and my confidante as a grew. He will be forever missed.