Meet the Cat

This is Voodoo Amarou Coconut Kitten.  Obviously saying that name when she's being the spoiled brat that she is proves difficult.  From here on out she will be refered to as Voodoo.  This is her story.

     The picture to your right was taken in the summer of 1997.  We had gone on vaction and Voodoo gets to stay at a 'kitty resort' where there are all sorts of things to play on.  Here she's climbing down off of the eight-foot cat tree that the owner has available.

     Voodoo is currently two and a half years old, and is a spoiled rotten brat.  She is my sister's pet primarily, but she is equally affectionate towards both of us -- provided she's in the mood to be briefly held or cuddled.  Voodoo is a tortoise shell of no particularly true breeding, and in all honesty the "mutt" cat is just as nifty as any pure bred cats.

     My former girlfriend and I got her from the pound as a birthday gift for my sister.  We decided that the best plan of action was to go to the pound a few days before her birthday and pick one out that we liked, while we got the house ready to handle the existence of a pet.  When we got there she was the only one left among the kittens.  Looking back though, it was kind of sad about the number of adult cats that were there, many were quite pretty, but you can't rescue all of them from the pound, that would be insane to deal with.  (A sad, yet real, fact of life is that most adult cats are not adopted from the pound.)  We then decided that the kitten was just perfect and told the friendly clerk that we would like to reserve the kitten for adoption and were more than willing to plunk down the money to get the adoption process going, we also made the mistake of explaining that she was a gift for my sister.  The friendly clerk started to become not so friendly and explained that they could not allow an adoption to occur if they were aware the pet would be given as a gift.  She then went on to explain that many people had given pets as gifts, only to have the receiver turn around and place the poor thing back in the pound.  A reasonable argument really, so we were talking about dragging my sister down to the pound, having her adopt the cat, when my ex suggested that I adopt the cat instead.  What a good idea!  Until the unfriendly lady behind the counter heard it.  I had to explain, in painful detail, that my sister and I lived in the same house and I was more than happy to take responsibility for the furrball.  Being the brearucrat that the unfriendly lady behind the counter was, she took it up with her superior.  He responded with a blunt, " Give them the damn cat. ".

     Huzzah!  Victory over the evil that is brearucracy.  We gather her up in a cardboard carrier and race off to my sister's place of work, she works at a pet supply store, to surprise her early.  It's not like I could hide a cat in my bedroom, especially this small wiggly engine of destruction that seemed to meow constantly.  The good news is her co-workers were also enthralled by the present and supplied us with all we needed to get started at the employee discount price.  The justification being that she would have had to buy all that stuff anyway.

     My sister was truly surprised, and after getting a speeding ticket on her way in from a work-errand this tiny ball of fluff just made her whole day.

     Mind you, this ball of  "fluff"  Now weighs in at eleven pounds and is still a spoiled rotten brat...

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