Many moons ago, when the Trouble & Strife and I overpaid for our first house (before we were married, btw...yes, yes, I know, but living in sin was all the rage in the late 90s) we lived a life unencumbered by children or pets. Well, that's not entirely true. We did have a couple of step-cats but for me they didn't count. Anyway, one day this white cat showed up at the crib. Whenever I'd go outside to smoke, he'd come around looking for a little love. I warned Ro not to feed him to no avail, because sure enough she ignored my advice and soon he was there all the time. Which, of course meant that I had to name him, which, of course, meant that we had to keep him. He was mangy and crossed-eyed and quite simply the best cat I'd ever known.
I'd named him Eugene (after Eugene Levy's crossed-eyed character in the then current film Waiting For Guffman), but he came to be known by many names: Gene, Genie, Jean-Genie, Genie-Weenie-Beenie, the Weens, the Beans, etc. Well, a few weeks ago Gene was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor in his mouth and we had to put him down. Rosemary and Emiliano are still not over it and are prone to breaking down in tears whenever something about the Weens comes up.
I started thinking it might be an awesome Xmas present to get a kitten for Rosemary. After mulling it over for a while, I broached the subject with the Wifey-Wife and also mentioned that it might make Prisicilla's life a living hell.* She concurred so I shelved the idea. Well, this Saturday, my son mentioned to me--entirely out of the blue and without context--that he thought we should get Mama a kitten for Xmas. One person coming up with a good idea is rare enough, but for two to come up with same idea, well, I took it as a sign and a Xmas miracle and I couldn't ignore it.
So, around 11, we headed to the pound (which ended up being a sniffling, cry fest for the super softies in the family, which means I should never bring the rest of the family with me) where Emiliano did not get the all white cat he wanted , nor did we get the grey/purple beauty that I had my eye on, but instead the family (Mama) settled on a mangy, skinny, ugly stray orange boy tabby, who had a name written on his pound paper work, that will serve as his secret name and/or slave name. Without further ado, let us welcome to our home its latest addition:
Mr. Omar (Omar, Mo, Tony Manero, Team Omar). He will get home tonight some time after his surgeries and microchip plantings. He's five months old and we all are very excited to have him.
*About six years ago, our then 12 year old longhair crank-a-puss and I came to an understand and have since become fast friends. Seeing as how Priscilla is now 18, I'm thinking she's not gonna be too happy with a five month old running around. But, she'll get over it.
I'd named him Eugene (after Eugene Levy's crossed-eyed character in the then current film Waiting For Guffman), but he came to be known by many names: Gene, Genie, Jean-Genie, Genie-Weenie-Beenie, the Weens, the Beans, etc. Well, a few weeks ago Gene was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor in his mouth and we had to put him down. Rosemary and Emiliano are still not over it and are prone to breaking down in tears whenever something about the Weens comes up.
I started thinking it might be an awesome Xmas present to get a kitten for Rosemary. After mulling it over for a while, I broached the subject with the Wifey-Wife and also mentioned that it might make Prisicilla's life a living hell.* She concurred so I shelved the idea. Well, this Saturday, my son mentioned to me--entirely out of the blue and without context--that he thought we should get Mama a kitten for Xmas. One person coming up with a good idea is rare enough, but for two to come up with same idea, well, I took it as a sign and a Xmas miracle and I couldn't ignore it.
So, around 11, we headed to the pound (which ended up being a sniffling, cry fest for the super softies in the family, which means I should never bring the rest of the family with me) where Emiliano did not get the all white cat he wanted , nor did we get the grey/purple beauty that I had my eye on, but instead the family (Mama) settled on a mangy, skinny, ugly stray orange boy tabby, who had a name written on his pound paper work, that will serve as his secret name and/or slave name. Without further ado, let us welcome to our home its latest addition:
Mr. Omar (Omar, Mo, Tony Manero, Team Omar). He will get home tonight some time after his surgeries and microchip plantings. He's five months old and we all are very excited to have him.
*About six years ago, our then 12 year old longhair crank-a-puss and I came to an understand and have since become fast friends. Seeing as how Priscilla is now 18, I'm thinking she's not gonna be too happy with a five month old running around. But, she'll get over it.
3 comments:
Congrats on the new kitty. Tabbies rock, by the way. I have one of the brown mackerel variety. She's energetic, mischevious & very clever. Ever so affectionate too. Drives me nuts sometimes but ... well, I might be one of those softies you mention. Don't tell anyone ... it's a secret.
Omar! Is your kitty a ruthless killer with a heart of gold?
Mr. Omar now has mostly everyone in the house wrapped around his little white paws. He sleeps with Emiliano at night, though Em does complain that Omar sits in his head. Enrique even let him sit on the coffee table, usually forbidden territory for felines. Cuca is scared of him, Priscilla hates him and Caldonia wants to be his mommy. He has settled in nicely.
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