As you might have ascertained, Little Thing is cat obsessed.
Habitually, she meows instead of speaking English and gives kitty nuzzles for kisses. Her knees remain smudged with dirt from crawling around like a feline. If her dress isn’t pink, it has a cat on it. Saturdays are now “Caturdays” and involve a cat-themed activity. She draws only kitties, and the first note she slipped me, written in crayon on a restaurant paper napkin ring, simply said “cat mom.” Pink kitties frolic throughout her good dreams nightly, seriously. She’s told me.
Wishing fervently to fully transfigure into cat status, she’s even tried to change her name.
When I called her by name the other day, she nonchalantly replied, “Oh, you know, you can just call me Cat for short.”
I’ve been dealing with her cat mania for years. At its inception, we didn’t even own a cat, but two years ago we caved.
From a litter, she picked a shorthair orange tabby and named her Queen Elsa.
(And yes. Little Thing of her own volition put Anna in the kitten bed so Elsa wouldn’t be lonely.)
Queen Elsa the kitty delighted Little Thing. When we took Elsa to the vet, the vet explained Elsa was a super rare kitty. Apparently 80 percent of orange tabby cats are male. Little Thing latched onto this information, equating her female kitty with a limited edition Shopkin or LOL Surprise doll.
Elsa the kitty, despite her ridiculously sweet, cuddly, and rare nature, lacked brilliancy.
Here she is hiding from a mouse.
She once climbed up beneath the undercarriage of a dealership-loaned vehicle during a rainstorm. My husband, unwittingly, drove to work and returned the truck to the dealership during his lunch break. Three hours later, he received a call asking if he was missing a cat. Not only had Elsa spent the entire morning trapped underneath the truck, but the dealership gave the truck to someone else, and that person drove to Baton Rouge and back ON THE INTERSTATE with her hitchhiking.
Frequently, she climbed up on our house’s roof and couldn’t find her way down.
Twice, she took week long kitty sojourns and returned manhandled, starving, and angry.
About six weeks ago, she went on an adventure and never returned.
Little Thing, heartbroken, offers suggestions about Elsa’s location such as, “Maybe my kitty went on a really long slumber party with other kitties. I wish I was a kitty and then she could’ve invited me. I would only stay one night and then turn back into a human,” instead of believing that Elsa has gone to kitty heaven.
But, Little Thing’s explanation sounds suspiciously like kitty heaven.
And Queen Elsa the kitty, if you are eternally slumber partying with other kitties, we miss you and rest in peace.