When I was young...
The sun's rays beat down on my heavy down coat, but the
trouble to take it off couldn't be made. Screeching to a jolting stop, the
submarine yellow school bus opened it's doors with a sucking noise,
similar to a straw. Shoving to the front, it was difficult not to whip
other kids with my fifty-ton backpack I transported around like a
pack mule. At last I exited the transport and shivered in the cold wind
which but a few seconds ago beat me through the thick glass. Glancing
casually left and right, I ran across the small cul-de-sac to my house.
At the door, I had barely raised my hand to the handle when I felt the
door swing inwards, I involuntarily swayed forward a bit. My mom
greeted me as she usually did, and I gave the hug she had become
accustomed to getting and I to giving.
My aunt had promised to take my sister and I to the candy store
that day, as she was leaving tomorrow. Feigning what I was sure to be
an excuse to stay home from the trials of kindergarten, my sister had
been home sick, but I hoped my aunt and I could go to the candy store
alone. My aunt was sitting in the great room, perched on a chair
looking at me. My mom followed close behind. Not really noticing, but
feeling apprehensive anyway, I asked my aunt if we could go to the
candy store. I got about half way through my sentence when I was cut
off by my mom pointing to the stairs. I glanced casually at the beige
steps. My mouth decided to disobey my brain and opened aghast.
Sitting daintily on the stairs was the sweetest kitten the world
will ever see. She was the runt of the litter, so sitting on the stair, her
ears didn't quite make it to the line of the ascending stair. My throat
closed up, I couldn't think or say anything for quite a few seconds. I
had wanted a cat since I was six, and being eight now, I felt I had been
waiting for a cat for an eternity. My mom had claimed she didn't like
cats, didn't want a cat. Looking at her eyes while she watched the
kitten along with me, I knew all her protests were just a facade.
Although she didn't actually admit to loving the cat until six years
later, she kept up her facade not very well. The only thing that leapt to
my mind at the moment was "What's her name?" Sylver Moon.
Later I insist I did not screech over the cat when I first saw her,
but my aunt and mom have tried to convince me otherwise. I tried to
be as knowledgeable as an eight year old possibly can, asking about her
breed, food, ect. Looking back, I know I asked those questions from
another planet, because here on earth, I was staring adoringly at the
So far, the happiest day of my life and the saddest day of my life
have both been associated with my cat. Actually, what I should say
would be the happiest days of my life. Every time Sylvie walked into
the room where I was, my whole day was lightened, the stress
evaporated. My kitten has a personality, she is another member of our
household, and every night she would curl up at the foot of my bed for
her "beauty sleep". I felt my life couldn't be the same without her, and
I know now that I was correct.
Last April, my family and I learned my dad had been offered a
job in England, and we were excited about the move. I was excited too
until the devastating news hit me that my cat would have to spend six
months in quarantine down in London. The thought of my baby cat
(She is actually 6 years old) having to spend half of a year in cold,
cramped quarters without human touch almost made me hate
England and the thought of moving there.
The next day, an offer came through the rumour mill that my
uncle, who lives in Seattle, had offered to kitty-sit my cat for the three
years were signed up for in England. I suddenly had to decide whether
to be selfish and take my cat with me to England, probably
emotionally damaging her, or to spend a sixth of her projected lifespan
There was no option, really. I couldn't suffer my cat to six
mouths in what resembled jail. To my uncles house she would have to
go. I brought her there, and said my good-byes. I was heartbroken, she
ignored me. Who wouldn't? She was surrounded by peace and quiet for
the first time in her life. She is a very spoiled kitty now. My uncle
keeps buying her 'kitty string' ,'Krazy Kitty Karats' and 'Gourmet
Fish Tarts'. I don't think she'll want to leave. I'll just have to convince
her I can spoil her even better.
I think I made the right choice, sending her to Seattle instead of
forcing her into quarantine. I know she would never be the same after
an ordeal like that. Sometimes the action that hurts the most is the
action that ends up for the best.