Frances could not believe her luck. She had been praying for a kitten her ENTIRE life and now, in front of her on the sidewalk, was a black, white, and gray fluffball. Frances scooped up the kitten and told her that she would now be known as “Muffin.”
She put the kitten in her backpack (but left the zipper open so she could breathe). She snuck up the stairs trying with all of her might to not alert her dad who was napping on the armchair. She slowly creeped up one stair at a time. Finally making it to the top where she did a mad dash for her bedroom door.
Once inside, she took Muffin out of her hiding place and placed her on the fluffiest blanket she owned on the bed. Muffin sniffed around the bed and then turned three circles before she curled up on the blanket. Frances went to the bathroom to get a bowl of water. But what should Muffin eat for dinner? Where would Muffin go to the bathroom? She realized that she had reached the point where it was necessary to ask her dad for help.
She gently closed the door to not wake the sleeping kitten and went back downstairs. Her father was slowly starting to stir when she got to the first level. He woke up to a child with big eyes and an even bigger heart. This is what he loved about his only child. Ever since her mom left them four years ago, he wanted to protect her sensitive soul more than anything. When she tentatively told him what she had found and that she wanted to keep her, he felt his heart melt. There is no way he could turn her down. He told her they would go to the local pet store to get supplies and that he would call the next day to make an appointment with the vet.
Frances awoke the next morning to a purring kitten on her chest. She got up, got dressed, ate some Cheerios and got in the car with her dad to go to the vet.
They took a seat toward the back of the waiting room. Muffin was in a brand new, sparkly cat carrier that had been purchased the night before. With her turquoise collar and purple leash, she was looking pretty sharp. She licked Francis’ fingers through the metal, gated crate door.
“Muffin?” The vet tech called her new kitty’s name and she stood up to take her into the exam room. Her dad was beside her. All of a sudden she felt nervous. But she didn’t know why.
The exam room was cold and sterile. There was a silver, shiny table in the middle of the room. The vet tech took Muffin’s temperature (Muffin did not like that AT ALL) and got her weight. She left the room and Frances and her dad waited for the vet.
The door opened and at first all they could see was long, blonde-hair attached to the back of a head who was looking at a chart. The vet looked up, started to ask a question, and froze when she saw who was in the room.
“Mary?” My dad tentatively asked. His eyes started to tear up. And then his tone shifted, “What the hell are you doing here?”
His tone alarmed me. The only other time I had heard him like this was when I rode my bike in the street. Who was Mary?
Mary looked at my dad and then looked at me. She stroked my hair as she gently said, “Hello, sweet Frances.”
I quickly looked at my dad. Who was this woman?
“Frances. This is your mom.”
