T and me on Christmas 2007.

I have a cat, his name is T. T will be turning 4 soon; I'm not sure of his exact birthday, but I know his age some what. T is my beautiful, crazy, ginger child. I call him my ginger child because his fur is orange and white. When I first got T, I really didn't like him. So here's our story.

My mom and sister both had pets; they had dogs, Gabby (mom's), and Timmy (Randi's). I'm not really a "dog person," so I talked to my mom about maybe getting at cat. She said it was OK, so I asked my friend Brita if her mom (who is a cat lady) if they had any cats they wanted to give away. She said they did, and said I could have the sweet, little tabby named Zoie. I met Zoie when she was a baby kitten. She was sweet, lovable and purred almost constantly. I was very happy to have her. Before I left with her though, Brita's mom told me, "Zoie has problems with her stomach, so you'll have to buy the food from the vet's office." I didn't really think anything of it, and figured I could get away with just feeding her the cheap stuff from Wal-Mart. BOY WAS I WRONG! I woke up a few nights after I had her, around 2 or 3 a.m., to the sound of her getting sick in my bed... and in my hair. And when I say sick, I don't mean something was coming out of her mouth... you get it, I hope.

I was very, very mad. I knew she couldn't help it. I knew it was my fault, but when she did what she did, she did it in my, at the time, very long hair, and on my new comforter and sheets. Oh, did I mention IN-MY-HAIR?! Ugh! Promptly, I stripped my bedding, took it to the laundry room, then quickly got in the shower. When I saw Brita that day, I told her what happened and asked if they would take her back because I didn't have the means to care for an animal that had medical issues. Thankfully they did. So, again, I was without a furry companion.

A few weeks later, Brita asked me if I still wanted a cat. I told her yes, and she said one of her friends had one that he was mean to, and that I could have if I wanted. So a few nights later, her friend brought up a little, about a month-old, orange and white kitten up to the restaurant we worked at after closing time. His name was Turbo. I thought it was a horrible name. And I also thought, how could someone be so mean to such a nice little kitty? I was the happiest girl in the world on that night. It wasn't until I got to know Turbo a little better, that I realized I didn't have an "ordinary" cat.

First off I will say, cats themselves aren't normal anyway, but my new companion was/is a weirdo. On his ride home with me he sat on my lap the whole time, and didn't move; I don't know if you've traveled with cats before, but they do not like cars. He got along with the dogs, and play-fought with them, as he was about the same size as them. I changed his name to Mr. T, after the character off of The A-Team; which was shortened to T. T "talked" a lot. I mean he was constantly "Meow, meow, meow." It was OK, but after a while it got oh so annoying. I, subconsciously, gave in after living with him for a few days. I started noticing I would have "conversations" with him. OK, so maybe he isn't the weirdo... T would meow at me when I'd come into a room, and I would ask him "What?" and he'd meow again, and I'd say "Really? Well what are you gonna do about that?" This would go on and on for a few minutes and I'd pick up him and love him; that's how I'd get him to stop. We would have full on conversations with each other; this is when I started realizing I had found my first true love, my sweet T.

It took me a while to "learn" all about him. But after a few months, we were BFFs (Best Friends Forever). T ate things that I didn't think cats ate. For example: Spaghetti sauce and noodles, corn, green beans, and pizza sauce. He was an odd child, but he was a good boy. T's true colors soon came out, when my mom told him that he had to "earn his keep and kill the mouse" that was in our house. He did just that. One night, he was sitting by the gun case in our livingroom, not moving at all. Just sitting. Staring. We knew he had some sort of prey cornered. He sat there forever, until finally he caught a mouse! Yay for T! He got to stay!

Months passed by, and T was finally part of our family. Loved by most, hated by none, except for the mice. Everynight T and I would go to bed, where he would purr me to sleep, and wake me up in the morning pawing at the window by my bed. He pawed at that window a lot. So I figured he wanted outside. I took him outside once and he decided he didn't like it and ran back in the house. Although I showed him the outdoors, he still insisted on pawing at my bedroom window. So, I figured maybe he liked the way the glass felt on his paws. Sounds stupid, but believe me, I'm probably not wrong.

I say this, because I had a stuffed dog, Memphis, that my sister got for me while I was in the hospital. It was made by Ty (the company that makes the Beanie Babies), and it was so, so soft. I slept with my stuffed dog, and T everynight. I started noticing T taking a very fond liking to my stuffed dog. He would get on the bed, and start kneading the dog, purring very loudly, with his whiskers puffed out. For some reason the dog made him happy. I think he liked the soft faux fur feeling on his paws. I had a monkey and giraffe made by the same company. So I decided to see if T liked them too. I laid them all out for him one day to see what he would do. He walked by them all, smelling and kneading them. But then I noticed he didn't kneed the giraffe. "That's weird," I though, "they're all made out of the same materials." So I took the monkey and dog away to see what he would do with the giraffe. To my amazement, he started assaulting the giraffe! He was holding it with his front paws while laying on his back, kicking it with his back legs. Then he stood up, grabbed the giraffe by it's ear and took it behind the recliner and left it. I was alone, no one else was there to witness what my pet had just done. I laughed and laughed until I had tears running down my face. I had never seen a cat act that way. He did make it slightly obvious that he did not like the stuffed giraffe.

I could probably go on and on for days about my perfect angel, but I should probably stop. I can't say enough for him, because he really is one of my best friends, and I will always know he loves me even when the world has its back turned against me. T, still to this day, has the stuffed monkey. And every day he "loves" his stuffed monkey by kneading it while purring wildly; then he falls asleep with his monkey after he's done. It's amazing the joy animals bring into the life of people; be it a cat or dog, parrot or fish. Love your pets, and the love will be returned in many ways. I've had many pets in my young life, but I haven't had one that could even come close to having the same relationship that my sweet T and I have.