Huh? Who me?
I’ve decided to dedicate my Tuesday posts to my “first born” cat, Twister. He was The One who started it all. I’ve always wanted to have a cat, but my family always had dogs so I never got one. I picked up a stray kitty when I was about 6 years old (yes, I guess I had it in me already), but he or she disappeared after a while. We should have neutered or spayed him, I suppose. My second encounter with a cat was when I was living in Spain in 2004-2005. My flatmate had a cat named Oya. I even wrote about her in my first blog.
He’s saying no to the salmon. He was sick then and refused to eat.
He slept peacefully on my foot and refused to leave my side. I was owned!
Then came Twister. He found me on February 12, 2011 at Van Gogh is Bipolar restaurant. I was running late (because I was too lazy to go out but my friends forced me to have a single ladies’ night out in anticipation of VDay! Hah!) and my two girl friends were already waiting for me at the garden of the restaurant. I say hello and then — BOOM! — a little tabby burst out of the bushes and gave a loud MEOW! I was too shocked to react. The waiter came, apologized, and took him away. I asked him where he was going to take the little one and he said by the entrance. He left and we were transferred to a bigger table. We ordered and chatted and then after a while the kitty returned and slept on my foot. We tried to feed it, but he wouldn’t budge.
At the end night a decision had to be made: do I leave him there or do I take him with me? My friends were convinced that I should take him, even the owner of the place came out and offered me a birthday cake box so I could take him. I was unsure. I wasn’t financially stable at that time and was sharing a flat with my brother in a building where they didn’t allow pets. But he wouldn’t leave my side and I just couldn’t part with him. So into the box he went and I threw caution to the wind! 🙂 He popped out of the box several times so I finally decided to just put him inside my bag with his head sticking out. We went to a bar for some beers and he was there with us.
He tagged along when we went out for a drink after. He was checking out the dog behind me.
My purse turned into his sleeping bag. I never got to use that again because he got sick and did his business in there. No problem! Worth the sacrifice!
And the rest, as they say, is history. His Royal Highness truly deserves to have a day dedicated to him in my blog!
Oh, I decided to name him Twister because his tail looked like a twister fry back then. Now it looks like Harry Potter’s scar. 🙂
His Royal Highness knows how to relax.