My friend's sister found a long-haired calico kitten near a dumpster. She lived in a dorm and couldn't keep her, so my friend adopted her. She had the kitten for a few months, and then one day her landlord drove by and saw it sitting in the window. No pets were allowed. I then became the babysitter of the kitten, simply called "Kitty" who was now about 9 months old.

I tried not to get attached to her, since I knew this was only a temporary arrangement. Months turned into more than a year, so finally asked if I could have her permanently. My friend and her husband rarely saw the cat anyways since they lived out of town for a large portion of the time I'd had her. I had definately become attached to her, and so was Chouli. The kitten, who was now a grown cat, became mine and became Molly.

Molly is more than a bit mischievious. She likes to bite holes in bread sacks, knock over wastebaskets, and generally wreck havoc. She loves to play, and will often sit by her wire/yarn toy until I drag it across the floor so she can chase it. Molly seems to live her life as if it were a zen koan. She once managed to get trapped inside a paper bag: I saw a bag tumled across the floor and a bit-ruffled Molly finally rolled out.

Whenever I visit my parents, I always take Molly and Chouli with me. Once while there I went to the grocery, and my dad told me Molly paced around, looking for me, meowing.

Now my friend and her husband have a new baby. Molly would never fit in that household. She has to be the center of attention.

Last updated: 10 July 1998.

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