For Frisky

It was Christmas Day, 1989. I was only 8 years old. For months, I asked Santa for a kitty. I didn’t want anything else, except for a cat. I read everything I could get my little paws on…about different breeds, how to take care of a cat, all that good stuff.

I came downstairs and my grandfather was trying to hide you behind some presents, but of course you wanted to see what was going on. I saw your nose poking out and I knew I got my wish from Santa. All I could say was, “I got a kitten!”…oh look, an Etch-a-Sketch…I got a kitten! Oooh…some Hot Wheels…I got a kitten!” I played with you all day…you kept batting at my ponytail, so I named you Frisky because well, thats what you were.

When I layed you on your back, you’d put your paws on my face (which is why I blame you for my love of paws). You always used to roll over and let me skritch your tummy and that special spot on your hind legs. And no matter how much I annoyed you, you never hissed or scratched. You were so laid back…a perfect match for me.

You were a companion, a playmate, a friend…sometimes my only friend. You’ve given me 19 years of love and devotion…and I have tried my best to give you the same in return. I love you. I miss you. And I look forward to the day I get to see you again.

Rest in peace, my friend.

Frisky
August 25, 1989 – February 14, 2008