Three years ago today, my humans rescued me from a New York City bathroom and brought me to live with them in Washington. To be honest, the move south was a bit of a step down for me, intellectually and culturally speaking, but I was happy to finally get out of that bathroom and I guess they're good parents. I'm sure you're probably wondering how I ended up spending the first few months of my life in a bathroom, so maybe I should start from the beginning...
My five siblings and I were born on Halloween, a few weeks after my pregnant mother was rescued from the mean streets of the Bronx. The guy who rescued my cat mom had too many cats to take in another one (sounds like an animal hoarder to me...), so a nice couple offered to house her until she had her kittens and then find them all homes. However, the couple already had a very sick cat, and they were afraid that she would infect my cat mom, so she was kept in their guest bathroom to protect her. After we were born, we lived there too.
A few months after my two brothers (both orange, like me) and three sisters (all calico) were born, strangers started showing up at the apartment, barging into to our bathroom and insisting that we play with them. My brothers and sisters stupidly obliged, fawning over the intruders, licking their hands and rubbing against their legs. The whole thing was really quite degrading. I, being the most astute of the litter, chose to sit back and watch, refusing to partake. One by one, my brothers and sisters--and even my cat mom!--went home with these undesirables.
The day that I met my humans was a sad one for me: I was three months old and the last of my siblings had been adopted the day before, so I was alone for the first time, stir crazy and confused. My humans were in New York to celebrate my mom's birthday and were staying with my host family, which meant that we were all sharing a bathroom. We got to know each other slowly as they came in to shower and wash their faces. I decided they were OK, better than the other invaders, and I somewhat reluctantly agreed to move to D.C. to live with them.
My humans didn't realize that I would be accompanying them home when they made their travel arrangements, so our trip to D.C. was a bit stressful. For some stupid reason, animals aren't allowed on trains or buses, and my humans had purchased bus tickets. It probably would have made more sense to rent a car, but my mom can be a little cheap sometimes, so it was decided that I would be smuggled on the bus with them. To try and conceal me, they put a scarf over my cat carrier, which looks more like a duffel bag anyway, and told me to be quiet as we boarded the bus. I was really scared, but I tried to keep in my cries, at least until we were seated.
My mom was convinced that we would be caught, thrown off the bus and left to fend for ourselves on the New Jersey Turnpike, but we made it to D.C., where we lived happily until moving to Brussels. From time to time, I get news about my brothers and sisters and how they are doing with their families. I miss them, but I think things worked out well for me, even though my humans can be annoying. (Just look back at my formal list of complaints!)
Happy airplane (or, really, bus) day to me!
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