by
Woodrow W. Walker
At night, I am often awakened by a small body instigating its self between my wife Jeanne and me. It is our little Persian cat Little One, without a doubt a little tornado. He tries to rule our house while dominating our other two cats Jordan and Roxanne.
We adopted Little One from a Petsmart in Las Vegas, Nevada. I remember that day when I first saw him. I had absolutely no reason to enter a pet store because we had no pets at that time, but I did and saw at once this adorable white face looking out of his cage at me. It may sound corny, but it was love at first sight, even if he was a male also.
I hurried home and told my wife and we at once called the store to inquiry after the little cat. We were told that he was available for adoption. The next day we went to the store to see him and hopefully bring him back home with us. The lady removed him from his cage and placed him in my arms, while my wife looked on. He was a sight; his previous owners had given him a poodle cut. It made no difference to me as I looked into that adorable little face. As we signed the adoption papers, they said his name was Caesar (we did not realize how appropriate that name fit him) until after we had renamed him Little One.
At home we let him out of his box to explore his new world. An hour later we began to wonder where he was. We looked under the furniture, but he was not there, we panicked, we had lost him. How, could we call the store and tell them that we had already lost out little cat?
Behind our sofa was a rolled up rug, I had looked over that rug a number of times so when my wife suggested that we unroll it, I told her that he could not be there. Of course that was exactly where he was, none the worse for wear.
Over the next year his fur grew out and he turned into the beautiful cat that he was to become. But an accident revealed that he had brittle bones. The vet said that he might not live for more than a year. My wife would not give up on him and took it upon herself to care for him.
He has now lived far beyond what that vet had predicted. My wife taught him to box because he had no front claws, but we have come to love that little fighter more each day.
I don’t need an alarm clock because I have Little One. At precisely 7:00 a.m. every morning he climbs onto my chest and no matter how, I try to ignore him, I can’t. If I do not get up he will tap me on the face with his little paw until I relent and pay attention to him. I get up and stagger into the kitchen to feed the three cats their breakfast. All the while Little One lets me know how I am failing at my duties to provide prompt meals for him and his brother and sister.
After the cats and I have had our breakfast, I go to my computer to write. Little One would demand for me to pick him up and place him on my shoulder where he likes to put his furry little face next to mine. His purring let’s me know that my love for that precious little character is returned ten fold. Our love for each other makes every day a miracle. My wife and I are not the only ones that love that little Imp however. Jordan his adopted brother a large black and silver cat and his adopted sister Roxanne a lovely Calico love Little One as much as we do.
Copyright © 2006 by Woodrow W. Walker
