We decided to pull off into a local steakhouse in Hereford, the "Beef Capitol of the World." Perfect place to get a steak, right? We split a meal and still end up with leftovers, a few bits of steak and some butter, which we saved for our dogs. My mom and I left the restaurant, and headed back to our car in the cold October air.
It was at this moment when she and I both head a noise we knew all too well. We gave each other this "did you hear that, I know what that is, do you?" look and we turned our heads to the front of the building. There, was a group of people standing around the cow statute in front of the resultant, doing their best to ignore this starving kitten who was begging for food at their feet.
It took us less than a millisecond to carefully walk over to where this small cat was, who by now had ran away. The other people must have scared her off. My mom and I stood out for a little while, trying to get this small cats attention, offering our leftover steak to try and bring her closer to us.
With some effort and patiences, we got her to come closet to us. We tore off little pieces of beef which the cat ran up and grabbed with her mouth, and ran away again. With every piece, she would run away, but each time stay a little closer to us. However, I was starting to run out of beef. This little cat had scarfed down all our leftovers, except for the butter.
So I scooped it up with my fingers and plopped in on the cold concrete which the cat ran up and tried to bite. You can't bite butter. Seeing her struggle to take the butter away, I wrapped my arms around her, picked her up, and we ran as fast as we could back to our car. The little cat cried in confusion and fear on the dashboard as my mom and I looked at each other. It was already very cold outside, and it was supposed to get below freezing that night. We really had no choice but to take her home with us.
The little cat did not enjoy the car ride, but she really didn't have a choice since we were still several hours from our home. The cat clawed my arms and legs and was nibblely, but I think that was because I still had steak residue on my hands. From that moment on, I knew she going to be my cat. We pondered what kind of name to give the cat, and we were pretty sure at that point it was a she.
When got home, I rushed into the bathroom to put this new cat in a safe spot, away from the other cats as well as the dogs. She was in pretty decent health, and my mom suggested that she was probably somebody's pet who got loose. Over the next few days, I cleaned her up and got her to where she wasn't starving. She acclimated very well with the other cats, however to this day she still does not like dogs.
After doing a little research, I decided on naming her Abbey, which means 'little Smith,' (which is my last name). It fits her perfectly, because she is mommy's little moosie. (And I still don't know why she is a moose. She's short and stocky like a little bear (especially when she's on her hind legs), and she links at me like a little pig (when she is not chirping and chattering when she had killkillkilled a mouseytoy). But she is the love of my life and I won't want to ever be without her.
Now why did I tell you this story? Last night I made some pork chops for dinner. The entire time I was eating, she was offering her assistance to help me finish my meal. I tore off bites for her, browning on them to cool them off for her, and she would take them and eat them elsewhere.
This was the face she gave me.
My goodness is she perfect.
I see the pig meat. Give it to me.
You're not gonna eat that, let me finish it for you.
(She did the same thing on Saturday when I made this pasta/veggies/beef thing. She came up to me and I'd give her a little beef).
You know, it makes it sound weird when you don't say that the butter was there because there was some baked potato under it.
ReplyDeleteShe is the Most Interesting Cat in the World, and I miss living with her so much.