Abby

Abby.

I seem to have a love-hate relationship with Abby. The love when she's purring contentedly on my lap, and the hate when she wakes me up at the crack of dawn for breakfast. 

Abby was never intended to be my cat. When Brittany was fifteen and learning how to drive, she and her dad came up with the idea while driving back and forth down the highway. I was minding my own business enjoying a bean burrito at Taco Bueno when I got the call. 

Brittany had never ever actually owned a kitten, as Popcorn the cat of her youth, was full grown when Brittany was born. She had been gone for a while, and to be honest I was not missing the litter box in the least. 

As much as my good sense was telling me not to, I didn't have the heart to tell her no. The next thing I knew I was meeting them at our local SPCA. Now if truth be known, we did not pick Abby, she actually picked us. Or perhaps I should say she picked me.

Upon arriving, and sitting down in a room full of cats, it wasn't long before Abby jumped up in my lap. She remained for a minute or two, and then jumped down to get a bite to eat. Remarkably she jumped right back up into my lap again. By then it was pretty much a done deal. 

Abby returned home with us, and was Brittany's kitten for about a week. The life of a fifteen year old left very little time for a kitten, and Abby and I became inseparable. She reminded me more of a dog than a cat. She came running when called, and loved to roll over and have her tummy rubbed. 

Fast forward fourteen years, and now Abby is the grand dame of the Hughes household. She's kind of like a sour patch kid, Ornery and extremely sweet
 depending on her mood. Last week I had to take her to the vet for a cold she had developed while being boarded. She was better in a day or two, but the reality of her advancing age hit me for the first time. 

I realized that her days really are numbered, and as much as a pain in the neck she might be at times, I was really going to miss her. She's been a part of my life since Brittany was a young teenager, and I've grown quite attached to her. 

Interestingly, one of my friends owns a fourteen year old turtle who still has about thirty years of life left on this earth. That love/hate relationship thing I wrote about earlier in this post, well as much as I love Abby I'm not sure I have thirty more years of early morning wake-up calls in me.