|Batman asleep on the quilt I made.|
And so I take his photo, because I can't resist such cuteness. Batman turned nine in April. I've had him since I was in 8th grade. But the story actually starts when I was two and my brother was five and we got our first pet, Mighty Mouse.
Mighty and I were best friends for 17 years. But when I was in 8th grade, his age started to show, and I wanted a younger model. I asked my parents if we could get a kitten, and they said no, that getting another cat would probably make Mighty depressed and he would go off and die somewhere. But I didn't believe them. I did what any 13-year-old would do: I tricked them into getting one anyways.
A friend of mine was dating a guy that lived on a farm and drove a Camero. His six-toed tabby got knocked up by the crazy barn cat and had a litter. The runt of the litter had six claws on each paw, a tiny little face and massive ears. I was in love.
We devised a scheme. And all I had to do was go home and act normal and wait. It was torturous. I counted down the hours. Eight o'clock finally came along, and I strained my ears for a sound, but all I could hear was my heart beating in my chest. Finally, there was a knock on the door. My dad got up from the couch and walked to the door. He opened it. He picked up a cardboard box and brought it inside. Out crawled a little kitten with a heart-shaped sign around his neck that said "Love me."
|Batman as a kitten on the first quilt my mom and I made together.|
Of course we kept him. The best part is that Mighty Mouse and Batman were best friends and lovers. They played and slept together and Mighty was young again. They had five years together, and then everyone moved away and we left Mighty with the neighbors. He passed away at age nineteen.
Batman moved with us to the city and the rest is history. He's really more like a dog than a cat. When we're home, he's always right there, waiting for something.