My fat boy |

I had this post on my livejournal and i wanted to copy it over for my memories..

November 24, 2006

I graduated high school in ’95 and spent the summer waiting for my TEE results. Mainly I was hanging around with some guys I went to school with. At the time I was dating a guy called Chris and one afternoon Chris, his friend Richard and myself all went out to the cat shelter to look for a kitten for Richard. Richard lived with his Dad and had decided that he a) needed a kitten and b) was not going to tell his dad

We spent most of the afternoon wandering around the cat shelter looking at all the cats and then Richard found him. A little teeny tiny tabby bundle of fluff. We filled out all the paper work, loaded him up in the car and started driving back to Richards house. Along the way home Richard decided on a name…Tac – cat backwards…he called him tac-cat. We pulled into the drivway and I swear not more than 2 seconds later Richards Dad came storming out of the house yelling at us that there was no way in hell we were bringing “that thing” into his house.

Shit. Now what? Never fear, I had a plan. We’d take the kitten back to my house and he could stay there for a couple of weeks until Richard had a chance to place an ad in the paper and find a new home. Of course I had an ulterior motive…I knew that if I could get the kitten into my house my dad would fall in love (never mentioned, said outloud or even hinted at of course) and we would be able to keep him. I don’t think I was ever worried about my Mum and the kitten…I think I knew that she would love him on first site.

So we turned the car around and drove back to my house. Explained the story to my Mum and although I think she was a little suprised, she was okay with keeping the kitten at our house “until Richard found a new home” (heh). The three of us took him up to my room and spent some time making sure he was comfy. I remember him latching on to a hoody that Chris was wearing…and then all of a sudden he was kneading at it and sucking on a corner of Chris’s sleeve. Hahahaa…I remember Chris taking off the hoody and saying “err…thats okay. You can just keep it”. That hoody became the kittens little security blanket.

About a week or so went by and Richard had some responses to his ad in the paper. I spoke to my mum about it and found my evil plan had been working. My dad said that we could keep the cat (we already had one other cat, Basil) and so we sorted it all out with Richard and the kitten was home. We decided to change his name to something that was a tad more suited to a furball and from then on he was called Rupert.

I’ve had my little guy for 11 years now…he’s a big boned, long haired, clean freak, leash-loving, squirrel hating, world travelling, guard cat boom-bah and he is loved by so many people.