Ah, my first pet. Ever. Well, not exactly. I always had fish and hermit crabs but those don’t really count, do they?
We adopted Marmalade just a week after my mother passed away. I was 12 and a half years old and my father was speaking to our veterinarian (later, my boss) who mentioned they had a hospital cat looking for adoption. My dad thought it was time to give me a little more responsibility and get my first pet.
Actually, one of the veterinary technicians I worked with owned Marmalade (known as Samantha (ick!)) but she moved away to an apartment where she couldn’t keep pets. This all happened around the same time my mother passed away so it really was fate that Marmalade landed in our lives.
She is 15 years old and grumpy. I’d chock that up to age except that she was always grumpy. She was a 10 year old cat in a 1 year old’s body. She pretended she disliked everyone but really was a social, loving, maternal cat.
It’s weird to think she could have been someone else’s cat. I don’t think she would have been as wonderful with someone else. When I take a nap, she protects me by screaming and slapping anyone who tries to wake me up. When I’m ill she does not leave my side. She actually follows me around at my heels, which may or may not be a good thing as I constantly trip over her. If I’m bed-ridden she either sleeps by my side or stands guard outside my door. If I move or yawn she comes running to me, sits on my lap and stares at me to make sure I’m not on Death’s door. She won’t eat or drink or use the litter box until I’m asleep and immediately returns so I don’t miss her.
But, of course, when I am a-ok all she wants is her fishes!
Hi, my name is Monica and I have RA.