Kobe

From the day I was born until the day I left my parent’s home at the age of 22 we had pets. As I recall one of those pets was a brown tabby cat named Tom. I was probably less than 2 years old, but I loved Tom and had always wanted another brown tabby just like him. We also had numerous dogs, parakeets, horses and chickens, to name a few. So I knew what goes into taking care of a pet – the feeding, watering, cleaning up after and attention they require. I had missed chances to go with my family to North Carolina and Disney World because I was the one left back at home taking care of the pets.

But once I got out on my own I didn’t necessarily want that responsibility of taking care of a pet anymore. When I married Alice I found out that her parents had told her she could get a pet when she grew up and moved out of their house. The first couple of houses we owned had fenced-in backyards. I told Alice we could get a dog if she’d promise to take care of it. She never made that promise…

So over the years I grew less interested in a pet, while the girls grew more interested. But no one could ever convince me they were ready to take care of one and I didn’t want to have to do it myself. After a while I became adamant about it. Until last spring…

Our married daughter Faith called and said her friend Hattie had adopted a kitten from the local pet store, which was having a promotion that week with one of the local shelters. She talked about what a great kitten it was and how Hattie had taken it home and her mother told her she couldn’t keep it. Now she had to take it back to the pet store. Would we consider taking it so she didn’t have to return it? After refusing, I finally relented and told Faith we’d meet Hattie at the pet store parking lot to see the kitten. We were on our way to a birthday party and stopped along the way. Hattie came up to me, put the kitten in my arms and he climbed up on my chest and laid down. He was a brown tabby, just like Tom. I told her we had somewhere to be and asked if she could keep him another night while we thought about it.

During the party I became convinced that 14-year-old Kelly, who had never had a pet, would be responsible enough to take care of this one, along with her mother, who had never had a pet bigger than a parakeet or a hamster. I told them to call Faith and tell her to have Hattie bring the kitten by that night. I had lived 32 years without a pet and wasn’t feeling like I had missed anything. But I did have a point to prove about the responsibility of owning a pet.

About 11 o’clock in the evening of May 7 Hattie and Faith delivered the kitten. They put him down at the front door and he started sprinting through the house, from one room to another, up and down the stairs, exploring his new digs. He hasn’t stopped running since, except to sleep and occasionally saunter through the house as if he owns it. And he thinks he does. After four or five days and several name changes, Alice and Kelly decided to call him Kobe. I liked Bo Kitty, but Kobe somehow fits.

Kelly’s kept her word and has done a good job of cleaning his litter box. Kobe’s done a good job of keeping his business confined to the litter box. Though feeding and watering him was supposed to be one of her chores I’ve found myself doing that most every morning when I get up and every night before I go to bed. But first he finds his way into my lap, where he cuddles and loves on me for a while. 

He jumps on everything in the house. He’s already pulled the Christmas tree down twice since we put it up Friday. He was 12 weeks old when we got him, and we’ve had him for six months. He’s the only cat I’ve ever known that will play fetch. He’s smart, funny, sweet, affectionate, has Ninja moves and is as fast as greased lightning. We’ve done a little male bonding, and if he’s not sleeping on his loveseat in the basement he’s either following me around the house or sleeping somewhere nearby, at my feet on the floor or near my head on the back of the couch upstairs. He has his own Facebook account. He can even sleep through me watching an Auburn football game, which usually involves a little bit of yelling. Maybe getting a pet wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He’s my little buddy. He’s a great companion. He’s all right for a cat…