Daddy, I Want A Kittie
When I was 4 years old I begged my folks for a kitten. As things will happen a little 2 month old gray tabbie started hanging around our house and sort of got fed. You know what happens when you feed a stray. They stay. I named him Felix and thought he was so wonderful. That was in the fall and my folks
took pity on him with winter coming. We lived in a house that had a wash shed attached and Felix had
to stay in there. His “box” was just a cardboard box with newspapers. I don’t think they had litter back then. It was also during the war years and times were tough so maybe we were just being frugal.
The following spring Dad was growing tomato and pepper plants in the wash shed to be transplanted into the garden when it was warm enough. Everyone had Victory gardens in those years. By that time Felix was still technically a kitten as he was only about 8 months old. He thought the boxes holding the seedlings were an excellent place to dig and bury “you know what“. My dad caught him at it and chased him outside with the broom. The second time Felix did it my dad did more than chase him. He swatted him and the hard broomstick broke the cat’s tail. After that Felix always had a crooked tail.
Over the years, He was an indoor outdoor cat and roamed everywhere. In those days everyone’s cats and dogs pretty much were on the loose. Felix always came home for meals. He slept wherever he felt like it indoors or out but never in anyone’s bed. My mother would not have stood for that. We still had him when I graduated from high school but I married and left home soon after that and Felix decided to leave too.
Now to add a little inside humor to the story, there was never any alcohol other than rubbing alcohol in our house, my mother being a tea totaler, so Felix was never exposed to it. When he “left” home we didn’t know what happened to him for a time. By that time Felix was around 15 years old.
Dad came home one day and told Mom he had found Felix. He had moved into one of the taverns downtown and the people there were taking care of him. We all laughed about this, except Mom. She though it was kind of an insult given that he was brought up a Christian cat. He remained at the tavern for 4 or 5 years until he passed away.