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Scratches and All

Story ID:7766
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Location:Caldwell ID USA
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Scratches and All

Callie is curled up beside me. Shes so sweet and innocent. What a joy she is most of
the time. The little beige spot on her head is endearing. That same beige color makes a delicate
collar around her neck.

I come home from work. Shes at the door waiting for me. She circles my ankles and
looks up at me. Her love is obvious.

Her daddy is home.

I sit in my usual spot on the sofa. She looks up from the floor, leaps to my side and
begins to nurse my shirt at the armpit. Its the strangest thing Ive ever seen. I rescued her from
the brush behind our apartment. Im her mommy.

She naps. I look at my hand. Its scratched, punctured and scarred from her play. Even
with a blanket wrapped around my hand, she makes her mark.

I did laundry. Ginny shopped at the grocery. One load was in the washer. The other load
was piled on the floor near the washer. I watched a football game. Out of the corner of my eye, I
saw Callie walk into the living room carrying a pair of Ginnys panties in her mouth. She placed
the panties in a box she plays with. After it was safely stored, she ran off. A moment later, she
returned with one of my socks. She hid it behind the sofa and ran off.

I got up and met her coming back with another sock. I rushed to put the laundry piled on
the floor into the hamper and out her reach. One of my socks is still missing. I have no idea
where she hid it.

Callie tortures our older cat. Callie sees her and attacks Kitten. She chases her into our
bedroom. Kitten leaps onto our bed and defends the perimeter with declawed paws.

Later, I found them both on the bed, asleep at opposing corners. They were boxers
gloves raised, judging their opponent. The standoff lasted longer than they did. Sleep was better.

She was a ball of fur that fit in my hand when I first rescued her. Three months later,
shes more than a foot long and growing.

Look at her.

She sleeps and stretches with joy as my hand pets the length of her lean body.

A water bottle stands on our coffee table. It squirts water twelve feet in any direction. Its
our tool to train Callie not to climb our fake tree in the corner, scratch the carpet or furniture, get
on the counters, to stay off the table and to stop hurting Kitten.

We used to have a simple life, Ginny, Kitten and I. Kitten would stretch out at my feet
and enjoy a pet on the head in the evening. Ginny and I would play a few games of cards,
watched television and enjoy our evenings.

We rescued an abandoned kitty. Our lives have changed.

We love it, scratches and all.

Michael T. Smith