Wednesday, June 12, 2013


Have I ever told you about my cats? Like I mentioned before, I never thought that I can like the cats. I worked in a preschool for a while, and a teacher there was a little unconventional. During the rain, she'd tell the kids to run through the yard. She would bring a frog in the classroom and let it loose on the table among the lunch boxes and sandwiches. When she had some messy painting projects, like squeezing paint on the low preschool tables and let children dive into it with their little hands, I'd be running around, handing the aprons to protect the clothes and she'd be telling me to take it easy. One day she gathered children for a teaching circle and brought out a kitten. The school was located in a residential neighborhood and behind it was a haven for feral cats. The teacher caught a kitten, wrapped it in a towel and handed it to children. I tried to avoid holding a tiny squirming animal. She gave me a dirty look and told me to do my job. I held the kitten while she finished a lesson. I never touched anything so small and soft. It was feather light, impossibly so, yet it was very alive.  
That feeling of a small, soft life in my hands stayed with me fro a long time. At first, it seemed like a crazy idea to adopt our own cat. Hanah talked me into it.  
The kitten's name was supposed to be Buttercup. I think, Hanah always wanted a girl cat. It became apparent, though, that it was a boy and he needed a different name! Hanah would've named him a Tiger, or some other conventional thing, but I came upon the idea of Chicken Bone, and it stuck.   

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