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The tale of a few tails. In my nineteen years of living, a day hasn't gone by where there wasn't a cat in my day.

First came my beautiful, shiny black cat. He came home one day with my mother, I must have been about two or three. I unfortunetly didn't get to choose his name, but my father the aspiring musician loved guitars, and one day decided our cat's name was Tuner, after my father fiddled around with his guitar tuner and thought that would be a clever name. Everybody assumes his name was derived from tuna.

One day Tuner ran away, and I was a heart broken little girl who missed her cat dearly. My mother felt bad so this time she took me with her when I turned four and we went to the Benton Franklin Humane Society. We searched through the cats and we both fell in love with this friendly face rubbing against the bars to try and reach us. She was a beautiful brown and black tabby, with gorgeous green eyes. It was int he car ride home where she sat in a box crying her eyes out that my mother suggested I let her out. So, I did and the cat started weaving herself inbetween out seats repeatedly. It was agreed on that her name was Nosy.

I still have Nosy to this day, but with a few more additions. We got a small white siamese with a black nose. What child isn't going to assume she's the color of the snow, especially when you get her in the dead of winter, as the snowflakes stuck so did her name, Snowball.

We were content with our pets and had said we wouldn't be getting anymore for a while. We were enjoying the fair that opened i the summer. Taking a break from the rides my mother and I strolled through the barn animals and descovered a table selling kittens. There was one that caught my attention because it was marked just like Nosy except without as much black. I saw his paws and realized there was an extra toe on two of his paws, and I quite fancied anything unique. He was different from all the other siblings. My mother instantly fell in love and so we left the fair with cotton candy and my cat in hand. I hadn't quite named him, but I was eating at home and he wouldn't leave me alone. I looked into my soup bowl and decided my kittens name was Chowter.

Unfortunetly, although I live in a very nice neighborhood it doesn't mean all the people are as nice as the houses we lived in. Snowball dissapeared and Chowter was crying everyday and heartbroken, because he was attached to Snowball. Chowter followed Snowball everywhere, and no day he dissapeared too. I was heart broken, we searched high and low for my cats, but we had no luck.

One day we were visiting my mother's co-worker, she had just gotten rid of a litter of kittens except for the one that nobody else seemed to want. What can I say I have a soft spot for cats that are unique. His named was Piglet and he was named at birth because for some reason he had a corked tail. It naturally curled around in a circle and I thought it was cute when he's waive his tail and it would go partially straight and then curl back up again. Piglet made me smile, and my mother said with a sigh, "I guess this one is coming home with us."

I still have Nosy and Piglet and they couldn't be happier. I spoil them rotten, and at this very moment they're both curled up taking almost half of my twin sized bed with my dog, Beethoven, included.

Learn more about this author, Jude Frost.
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