To Meow, Or Not To Meow

This is the unfortunate story of a little grey and white kitten that came into my possession about two weeks ago. I fell in love at first sight; it was an adorable little fluff ball and had the biggest, shiniest eyes I’ve seen on a kitten <3.

All was good in paradise so what caused problems? My mother, who stressed out at the sight of the little bundle of fur, and told me to throw it out since we already owned a rather haughty cat. That just broke my heart and obviously I couldn’t turn it out on the streets like a little waif, so I began making calls to all my nearest friends and family, imploring them to take in the little orphan. 23 phone calls later, and I had no success to show.

Meanwhile, I had christened the kitty “Mr. Finkles” in complete following of the stereotypical ‘girls naming pets froo froo names’, and was playing with it happily. I hoped I could somehow keep it, but that was not possible, which was tragic. Finally, I turned to desperate remedies and made a call to the last person I would ever ask, my cousin. Lets call him J. My last hope waning, I crossed my fingers, only to find that J flat out refused and couldn’t take responsibility for the kitten because of permission problems from his parents. That was it. I would have to give the kitten away after all.

My master plan was, that J would take care of Mr. Finkles for about a month, until my own cat had her babies, and then I could just smuggle the kitten back in. However, he again refused, saying he couldn’t, so I had to give it away. My cousin called the next day, asking for the kitten to keep her two little daughters company. … disastrous results ensued. The little girls positively twisted and nearly strangled the kitten while attempting to show affection! Needless to say I cried, but I couldn’t renege on my promise now could I?

Mr. Finkles is with them now, and has been re named Pennington. I miss him still, but it just goes to show, you can’t count on people, or pets. Or moms who don’t like pets. </3

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