The First Pet

Disclaimer:  I swear that I my parents have always been great.  This story does not quite show their strongest parenting moment.

When I was five we had a kitten. Actually, I was probably four.  A boy kitten that I promptly named Fluffy.  Fluffy was a kitten from our next door neighbors at the time and we adopted him.  I have a few memories of Fluffy.  1) Fluffy peed in front of the entertainment center one time.  2) Fluffy had to go to an animal hospital once overnight when my uncle stepped on his head.  3) When I used to run, Fluffy nipped at my feet and I was not a fan.  More than that, I remember running fast away from him and that did not work out.  I am sure that there are other really good Fluffy moments, but these fill the Fluffy bank in my memory.    I am not even sure that there any pictures of Fluffy anywhere.

When I was five, we moved from Florida to Indiana with my 2-week-old baby brother.  My parents told me that Fluffy had to stay in Florida because cats would be sad to move and that Fluffy would stay with my uncle.  I went with that.  I understood, moving was hard.  A cat would not understand.  Fluffy had to stay in Florida.  That made plenty of sense.

Fast forward to three days ago when I get a phone call from my Mom before I leave for work.  Here is the convo:

Mom: “You know, I am really sorry that Fluffy did not come to Indiana with us and that we did not know Cat carriers existed.”

Me: “You didn’t know cat carriers EXISTED?”

Mom: “I really didn’t.  I don’t know how we didn’t know.”

I would have kept up with my belief that Fluffy couldn’t move to Indiana because the move would be too hard, not because my parents did not know how to transport my cat forever if it was not for that call.  Good thing these people have stepped up their pet skills with Ralph.


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