We Call It Rocky Muffin

I’ve never been a cat person, mostly because my family was dog people and I’ve never had an opportunity to be a cat person.  That, and the fact that I’m allergic.  I didn’t discover I was allergic until I was about 18, and so I mostly just avoided them after that.  It’s not that I detest them or anything.

But, this little kitten has kind of stolen my heart.  I love her.  I think it’s a her.

She was born next to our house in a litter of four.  The mama cat would come periodically and take care of them, and then she would move them to new places.  So every 4-5 days they would disappear.  I can’t pretend it didn’t break my heart a little every time I discovered they were gone.  But then, two of them came back. I would put out a little kibble when I saw them, and in the process I fed many skunks at the same time.   We called the beautiful little calico, Callie.  She was my favorite and I secretly never wanted her to leave.  And we called this black one Rocky, because she was a little fighter and wouldn’t hardly have anything to do with anyone, while the others were more gentle.  

A few days passed and they disappeared again.  I was resigned, you know.  It was probably best that they go on their way, find a home or stay feral.  I told myself I gave them a good start and that was the end.   It’s not like I need any cats, I’ve got plenty of animals around here, and that’s not counting all the ducks in the duck pond.  

But one day, this little Rocky was back.  And she hasn’t left since.  In fact, she’s started coming up to us, instead of staying hid out in her original place beside the house.   

EK and I read a book called Meet Muffin, about a cat of course.  So EK started calling her Muffin.  Sometimes she even calls her Bagheera the Panther.  And sometimes I just throw Lopez on the end because of a little joke I know.  EK is convinced she’s a boy.  I’m not completely convinced she’s a girl, but I think I have a little more experience with determining that, and how do I explain that to a 2 year old.  I’m as dumb as they come when it comes to cats, so I’m not 100% about anything.

For the last couple of days, Rocky Muffin Bagheera the Panther Lopez has wandered in the house.  Skittish and scared.  She’s also wandered on top of the kitchen table. Curious and bold.  I was torn about this whole cat thing until I noticed I don’t seem to have any allergy to this one.  Then, when she chowed down on some shared Ramen noodles, I knew she was destined to be a part of our family.  

Now she rubs up against our legs, wrapping herself around them purring so sweetly.  Today she jumped on my lap when I was sitting outside.  I gave her a saucer of buttermilk and I think we’re pretty much BFF’s now.  

Black cats are even considered to be good omens in some cultures, bringing good fortune.  In that case, maybe we should call her Lucky.  

Rocky Muffin Bagheera the Panther Lucky Lopez—-Welcome.