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    Posted March 17, 2014 by

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    Frosty Kitty


    I first saw the all-white cat when I was 19 years old, and still living with my parents at the lake house. She was nervous, bitchy, and not quite sure of her new surroundings. I was not sure I wanted a cat at all. She came from a family friend who said she needed a home, and my Mom decided we were ready for the challenge. “Kitty” moved in, and I became her new owner.


    Kitty was a special cat who was only devoted to me, and was hostile to everyone else for the most part. She attacked anyone who put their hands near her, and hissed her disapproval at any attempt of outreach from strangers. Several of my friends who met her, quickly labeled her as the “Kitty Bitch”.


    Kitty & I moved from the lake, to our own new home in Blue Springs, Missouri where I settled into a life without parents, and freedom for the first time. I was just 19, but was a proud homeowner for the first time, and making upgrades to an old house I could flip for a profit. My job at the time, forced us to move to a new city, sell the house, and endure the hell of a big city we both grew to hate. It was cold and unfriendly in Chicago.. After about a year of hell in the northeast, with no friends, tons of snow, and depressing crap on a weekly basis, I quit my job at Warner Brothers Records and relocated to the warm happy beach life in San Diego, California. Kitty loved the beach, and soon adapted to hanging out on the patio, and falling asleep to the sound of surf and seagulls. We both loved our new life in southern California.


    After twelve years of repressive rent increases, I decided it was time to split the rent, and find a roommate. I interviewed several persons after placing an ad in the local paper. One person I liked was both scary and comforting at the same time. “Mike” was about 6’4″, muscular, and covered with tattoos. He even had a snake tattoo that wrapped around his shaved head.. Yet he was personally very quiet, and polite. He was very loving towards Kitty, and I thought he would be a great “Security System” for the apartment.


    Mike moved in, his girlfriend visited often, Kitty adapted, and we all somehow co-existed.


    I took a trip in the summer of 1988 back to Missouri to see my folks, and Kitty was left behind. At 15, she was old, and my leaving was a stressful thing for her.


    When I returned home from my trip, I couldn’t find my cat.


    I asked Mike where Kitty was.


    He said there had been a big party, people were crazy, things got out of hand, and she was in the freezer..


    Kitty had wandered out into the roadway near the apartment, and was either run over or just scared by traffic. Either way, she was now in a bag, in my freezer.


    After the initial shock wore off, I cried, went through the five stages of grief, and decided it was time to bury my cat.


    I was grateful that Mike had saved her for me, so I could give her a proper burial. I decided to put her under a bush across the street at the little church there. I entombed several toys and favorite snacks with her.


    Despite the horror of her death, and seeing her frozen, I still thank Mike for preserving my “Frosty Kitty”.


    Please share this story if you are an animal lover, and maybe someone else will adopt a cat and give that animal a great home!

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