Entry 6

LAST TIME ON STAR TREK...

CAMILLA GOT A LIST OF WRITING PROMPTS TO HELP HER WITH HER BLOG BECAUSE IN ALL HONESTY, SHE REALLY SUCKS AT BLOGGING. NOW IT IS TIME FOR THE SECOND WRITING PROMPT.

Yeah, so I managed to drag my ass back to the computer for prompt number two.

What is your favorite childhood memory?

When I was five years old, I got a calico kitten for my birthday.  It happened exactly like you would imagine, where there's this really big special box in the corner where you wouldn't notice right away. Of course you find it though, and when you open it up low and behold; a cute baby animal who makes a cute baby animal noise right on cue. For me, the kitten wasn't much more than a glorified cotton ball, but he latched right on to me. The second I reached in and pulled him out of that box he settled down in my lap and went right to sleep.

And just like that I became his mother. I fed him, I cleaned his box, gave him baths, and I loved every second of it. I was that kid who would bottle feed her stuffed animals and cut up cardboard boxes for them to sleep in. You know, that kid who would visit pet shops for fun. I think almost every kid has longed for a pet at some point in their lives, and I was sort of a lonely kid anyway so my longing was more like an unhealthy need. When we got him I was so excited I could barely speak. I remember being afraid even to just reach down and touch the little guy, like I was scared he was going to spontaneously combust. I don't think I stopped saying thank you to Peg for a week.

We ended up calling him Pussyfoot, (which was Peg's idea of a joke, don't ask.)  He was such a good cat. The time we had him was right about when I started getting sick. My hallucinations were a lot worse back then and I was spending most of my time at the doctor's or at home. I was pretty down most of the time, and he always knew when to come and sit down on my lap and play with my hair or something, (my hair was his favorite toy.)

I spoiled that cat rotten, to the point he was practically sitting at the table every night and eating with us. Between me and Peg he became less of a Pussyfoot and more of a Fatty Lumpkin. He was such a baby too. He used to make a racket and nibble on my toes if he felt like I wasn't paying attention to him and he'd pout for hours if I ever went out. But I'll be damned if he wasn't smart. He knew just how to work the customers who came into the shop. He'd rub up on them and purr and if they had kids he'd let them play with him. I think all of our regulars were sneaking him food. He was a total diva, but he was friendly too, and personally I don't think I would have had him any other way.

So if you haven't been able to tell by the past tense, Pussyfoot isn't around anymore. He got run over about five years ago. I know right? Camilla? Don't you have anything happy to blog about? Well it's been my experience in life that you can't have good things without sad things mixed in with them. Pussyfoot lived a good life, and while I'm still pretty sad he's gone that doesn't mean I can't reminisce happily about the good times we had.

He was a good friend, and I hope he's sitting up there in cat heaven eating a hot dog or something. Maybe dead cats can eat chocolate in the afterlife. I'm sure he'd enjoy that.

So the next prompt is "Where do you see yourself in ten years?" Oh that's going to be fun. "I see myself as a paranormal investigator for the F.B.I."

Alright then. Until the next time.