She was sitting in a roomful of loud kittens and grumpy, fat and old cats all waiting to be adopted into a loving home. My mom and I were back for the second time to look at kittens. The game plan was to adopt one kitten. One tender, quiet, submissive and loving kitten. Tabby wasn’t in the original game plan. In fact, she’ll never know this but she was more of an impulse purchase. Like that awesome tenth pair of shoes that you’re instantly in love with but don’t have the room in your bulging closet. You see, Tabby was sticking her skinny little paws out from her cage. It was a cry of desperation and literally, with her reach she cried out in desperation. Her heart-wrenching, pitiful meows stood out above any other cats in the room. She looked up at my mom and I with such hope, such love, and such pleading. We were instantly suckered. And I don’t use the word suckered lightly. Tabby knew what she was doing, manipulating our heart-strings from the very beginning.
As the saying goes, the rest is history. We brought Tabby home along with her adopted sister, Amore. I am now 100% positive that Tabby is very aware that she has gotten her own way (since the beginning) and for that, she is absolutely and utterly spoiled.
But we all love her dearly. Even with the ridiculous shenanigans. Like taking thirty minutes to come back inside after playing outside all day. And having to chase her down to pet her. She doesn’t like to be cuddled or ogled either.