There’s nothing quite like the relationship a boy has with his dog…
I mean cat.
The cat’s name is Coon Dog. Make sense, now?
Here’s the story of how these sweet kittens became a part of our family…
<Cue the Sarah Mclachlan music>
This story is like an SPCA commercial…
I was twenty weeks pregnant with our first child. While I was standing in the check out line at Wal Mart my phone rang. It was The Pilot and he told me that I needed to pick up some kitten food while I was there. I reminded him that we didn’t have a kitten and he informed me that we do now.
I wasn’t all that excited about our new state of cat ownership.
But when I got home, there on our back porch were the three most pathetic animals I’d ever seen and they needed us. They were covered in fleas and blood from the flea bites and were probably too young to even be away from their mom.
The Pilot explained how he found them on the side of a country road near our home. Someone had obviously dumped them there just like the rest of the garbage all along that road.
They certainly were not garbage. Even though we weren’t sure how much longer they would live we took care of them a declared them the newest members of our little family.
I was the most worried about the light colored one. She was the smallest and most lethargic. I sat up for several hours that night holding her, petting her and talking to her. I wasn’t sure she would still be alive in the morning and I wanted her to know love before she left this life. I named her Vanilla Bean.
To our surprise Miss Bean made it through the night and the next day we named the other two.
Coon Dog was just called “Coon” at first because his tail looked like a racoon’s tail. But it didn’t seem right that Vanilla Bean had two names and he only had one. I thought “Dog” fit well with “Coon” and he became Coon Dog.
I named the little black kitten Cotton because I liked that name and The Pilot said I couldn’t name our son that- he really took the whole business of naming our first son seriously. Anyway, this little kitten needed two names just like his brother and sister. And since we live in the country surround by Cotton fields, I thought Picker would be a good last name for him. And he became Cotton Picker.
They all three grew stonger by the day. And The Pilot and I spent a lot of time taking kittens out of the puppies’ mouths. (The puppies that we rescued from the middle of a highway the week before. We’re suckers.)
Sadly, Vanilla Bean only lived for about a year. But she seemed to enjoy everyday of her life as a farm cat. I still miss her everyday and I’m thankful to her for teaching me to love cats.
Coon Dog and Cotton Picker grew to be more than eleven pounds and are earning their keep by catching mice and entertaining little boys.
Now every time I drive down the road where The Pilot found our cats I look to see if another scumbag has dropped off some more kittens that I need to take home and love.