About a week before Christmas, when I knew things were about to get sad around here (although I had no idea how very soon it would be), I decided to put aside my strict no pet policy which had been in place since the Conway and Loretta dognapping by my parents and get the kids an early Christmas present. When I say kids, that includes NJ. They had all three been begging me for a cat for like a year and a half. Nathan had an ancient cat when we got together, but it lived in his home state with his brother who is not in a motorcycle gang-he's in the dead body biz which is handy since the cat, Moco, died while in his care.
NJ has mourned that cat for ages and its freaking ashes sit on his workbench, just like Moco would've if he had not passed, God rest his soul. I was telling one of the ladies at work I was thinking about getting a kitten to help everyone deal with their grief and it just so happened she had a cute little kitten for which she needed to find a home. He (turns out he's a she) was an outdoor kitten, so I was told it might take her a while to warm up to us. Cool, whatever. Free cat. I was in.
I'm not sure really what surprised NJ the most about the family Christmas present-the fact my "school bag" meowed and began to jump around when I asked him to get it out of the car, or the fact when he unzipped the cat carrier, the spitting image of his beloved Moco came barreling out and slid under the sofa, where she would spend most of the next three days, dragging toys, socks and dust bunnies out with her when she did make an appearance.
After those first three days, Moco Jr. (Which means booger in Spanish and is why I spell it Mocho), or Mocho Loco Ya Ya Hey Kitty Soul Kitty as I call her for short, was totally a part of the family. If she wasn't laying on the blanket she claimed as her own, even though she had her very own princess bed, she was in mine, NJ's or Grace's lap or laying on Max's bed, her back to his neck. She is so rotten, that when Grace or I come in the living room in the morning and get home in the afternoon, she stands on her hind legs and puts her arms up for us to hold her. Like a baby. And we do. I have mad one armed coffee making skillz now, yo.
We also quickly discovered a little quirk about Mocho Loco Ya Ya Hey Kitty Soul Kitty shortly after she came out from under the sofa. She thinks breathing is a game. Not her own breathing, mind you, but the breathing of anyone laying on the sofa trying to take a little nap. I, of course, was the first to learn this lesson as I drifted off one afternoon after an exhausting night with my FIL. I was comfortable, cozy and relaxed and the next thing I knew Mocho was attacking me. So much for relaxed. I was all like, "Moco Loco Ya Ya Hey Kitty Soul Kitty, are you crazy?!?!?!" She just curled up on my neck and purred cause she's an angel who loves her mommy. That is, until she noticed the blanket was really moving because she'd scared the shit out of me and I was having some rapid breathing. Then she morphed back into a Menendez brother and started trying to kill her mommy again.
I hollered, "No, baby girl! Breathing is not a game! Mommy has to breathe to live!"
She looked up at me with that sweet little black face, with the one white spot on her little nose and said, "Meow," which I knew really meant, " Sleep with one eye open, Bitch, because I'm coming for you."
In that moment, I realized we were made for each other.
We're both insane, both demanding and we both try to kill people in their sleep.
I love her so much.
Even when she's trying to kill me.