My name is Fox.
This is a story all about how
my life got flipped-turned upside down.
And I’d like to take a minute – I’ll look right at ya
I’ll tell you how I became the Fox of a home called La Catcha.*
I don’t remember much about my early life, but my mommy hooman tells me that before I selected her and daddy hooman in a Target parking lot, I lived with a little girl, a big orange kitty, and two grown humans. I guess I must’ve escaped that situation by some divine providence. Yvonne refers to this as Craigslist. I was a free kitty, which I’ve always taken in the fullest sense – I don’t take shit from anybody – but I really didn’t cost anything and my journey to my new home began in a Target parking lot. I was just eight weeks old, which means I was born around the first of June, 2013. When I was handed to Yvonne that warm July morning, the car was stocked with good kitten things – Kitten Chow, a new litter box and mat, clumping litter, the best mousie toys ever, and two bowls that I had to step in to use (but they were untippable, so there’s that). I’ve long since grown into them. Although the ride home was stressful – let’s just say that if your ears are twice the size of your head, riding along at 50 miles per hour in a 1998 Civic with a broken muffler and the windows down is quite unpleasant – I let it all out with full-body meows and we soon were under the shade of the tree I would come to call mine.
My first apartment was small, not rented with a growing kitty in mind. The only place to put my stuff was in the kitchen pantry. The humans named me “Fox” because one of the few shows they both love is The X-Files andI look a bit like a fox. My humans worried about me when I was very small because I could climb into anything – the reclining loveseat, the reclining chair, a small space between the dishwasher and the kitchen cabinet (that only happened when the vacuum came out), and any other place I could squeeze. When I misbehaved and they couldn’t take it, they put me in my pantry until I calmed down. I’d always be nice when they finally opened the door! I was so small when I first arrived that I couldn’t jump onto things, so I took to climbing furniture. They had to pile linens and dirty laundry so I could get up onto the bed. I had a big window and a sliding glass door with a beautiful old maple right outside. I loved the birds, but the squirrels taunted me. I was happy and content and had grown a lot when, a few months into my adoption, the humans started packing things into boxes I wasn’t supposed to explore.
By the divine providence of Craigslist, with the crisp fall air came a new apartment. I had to bid farewell to my tree and go on the longest car journey I’d ever braved. I made it, though, with little complaint. Our little family’s second apartment was beautiful – lots of windows, big rooms, pretty wood, and plenty of room to run. I grew up in that little apartment with its morning light streaming in the bedroom windows, clicking steam radiators, and oddly squeaking floor. I became accustomed to the sounds of the people who lived above us and the noises people make when climbing stairs. But it was a bit odd. In December our home got so hot that the humans had to wear shorts and tank tops and I had to shed. The central heat was on too high until March, when we had a bigger problem. The boiler had broken. Now we were cold all the time. We didn’t have real heat again until May. You know, ’cause it’s not already getting warm in May or anything. I tried to keep warm by snuggling into fuzzy blankets and stuff, but sometimes it’s just impossible! Weather-wise, summertime was also difficult without central air. I was hot again. Shed.
At the end of December 2013, the humans took me to the vet for a “routine surgery.” We shan’t discuss what happened that day, but Yvonne insisted on bringing me home even though I was higher than a kite and I had to sleep in my carrier all night. We spent the first half of 2014 getting ready for my humans’ wedding. I helped with everything from the paper bag table runners to the invitation design to the menu choices. Would you believe that when the day came I wasn’t even allowed to attend? I didn’t mind much. We had our first house guests and other visitors, so I was stressed and a big fan of hanging out under the bed. After the August wedding, we had another big project. The humans informed me we were moving again. I was afraid of how long the drive would be this time.
As it turned out, we only moved about three blocks down. Although this apartment is very different from my kittenhood home, I really like it. It’s long and funny shaped, which means it’s prime kitty running real estate. It only has a few windows, but birds come to us because I have bird feeders out. I hadn’t gotten to watch birds for a year; I’m obsessed. No, seriously. I’ve crashed into the window several times. Those little turds show up as soon as I leave my bird watching spot and when I hop back up there, the jerks fly away. Are you kidding me?! Sorry… I just get really worked up about my birdies. This apartment is also much quieter thanks to only having windows on one side. It’s a trade off, but the lack of street noise helps me nap better.
This winter, I was sent away to Tom’s parents’ house for a few weeks, but now my humans are home and the world is wonderful. I love Christmas trees and Yvonne is still using the excuse that she was away from Christmas stuff for a good chunk of December, so she can still have it up. I’m getting bolder about attacking the tree, though, so they’re threatening to take it down soon. I’ve also been pretty itchy lately. My humans suspect that it’s just itchy winter skin. After a lot of research online – my humans adore me – Yvonne wanted to check with a vet to see what they’d recommend. She called the latest one I went to, where I made a staff member bleed because everyone who touched me was incompetent*. Apparently the receptionist doesn’t know anything and people in the back are too busy to take a quick phone call. Then she tried my groomer and the line was busy. You know what my loving mommy human did then?
She called the office of the best vet in the world. Yes, the office is 1,521.63 miles away as birds fly and the person who answers their phones knew what to recommend as a first step. Guess who got fish oil on wet food last night, humans! This guy! This also means that we are hunting for a new vet again. But I suppose it’s pretty cool that someone who works with the woman who saved my predecessor, Tig, from a terrible UTI many moons ago is now helping me out. I’m in the middle of a full bath right now and Yvonne is going to take me to get a mani/pedi today, but I’ll let you know if fish oil helps in the long run.
I need to nap.
*Based on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air‘s theme song. We call it “La Catcha” because of the Man of La Mancha.
**He’s not kidding. They’re completely incompetent and I’ll never be taking him back there. -Yvonne
I’m still working on what to do for Wednesdays. For now,
I’ll we’ll be experimenting! See you tomorrow for Creative Thursday!