A good friend once told me that if I was ever going to find a boyfriend I should never talk about my pets. Ever.
“Guys don’t want to hear about your pets,” she said. “In fact, NO one really wants to hear about your pets. It’s boring,” she concluded.
Though, I disagreed. Strongly. My pets were pretty damn funny. They had unique personalities and fascinating adventures all their own. Surely someone would be interested in hearing about my furry little friends. Maybe not boys…but surely the other girls...right?
Fast forward a few decades, several boyfriends, and two husbands later, and this same friend now has a “dogbook” on Facebook and we spend most of our conversations chatting about our pets.
So, of course, I was right all along. And even if it took me more than half my life to prove it, I’m more than willing to gloat. Not much has changed in the decades since middle school and high school, other than fashion and my bra size. (And thank God on both accounts.) I still talk about my pets fairly frequently. In fact, now people beg me to share my animal adventures "down on the farm.”
This is why it saddens me greatly to tell you we’re missing one ninja kitty. Henry Chow, ninja kitty, to be specific. The crazy, quirky, owl escaping, Himalayan rescue cat, with a distinctive accent and matching personality.
We acquired Henry several years ago, when the kids’ begging caught me at a weak moment and I ended up carting home this strange beast. A cat, even the vet once called, “the most unusual feline,” she’d ever run across. It took him forever to fit in with the family, but once he did, he became a permanent fixture. He even formed a special bond with our resident ghost. But after picking up and moving with us—several times—the bad ass kitty that was taken (more than once) by owls, only to be brought back, went out on a grand adventure more than a week ago and never came back.
Poor, sweet, crazy Henry Chow, you’ll be missed…but most definitely, never forgotten.
Until the next time...we'll be mourning our missing cat.