He was so cute.
Completely lacking in brains but rich in odd behavior.
Not really a cat. Not really a rat. Something in between.
He had breath that smelled exactly like chicharrones.
He was my special ed guy with special ed needs.
I was afraid I would never love him as much as Henry. That he would be neglected and ignored.
Turns out this ugly thing named Pepper took over my life.
He was a feral manx. When they called me to say they found a manx kitten they said "If you aren't sure you want him, dont come over. He is the cutest kitten ever and you wont be able to say no."
I got in my car and drove over for a look. This woman had him by the scruff of his little neck and was holding him up to the face of a huge male cat. This huge male cat was licking him from head to toe.
They held this ratty runty tailless thing up for my inspection. Slathered with cat spit. Hair sticking out in all directions. Puffed up wormy hairless belly, soggy little feet with muddy claws. Ugly ugly ugly. Ugliest kitten I have ever seen. Looked like a lab rat.
"Isn't he cute?" they asked. Oh man. He was anything but.
I had to sit there for a half an hour talking my self into taking this hideous excuse for a cat home to his older brother.
I did.
Only because it was my other cats brother.
Funny thing is. The first glimpse of him is pretty much nailed the rest of his life.
His brother Henry would start the day by pinning him down and licking his hair in all directions. Pepper would show up for breakfast with what little hair he had looking like it had gone through a blender. It was always "Oh.. Hair by Henry! Nice work, Love what you've done with the cowlicks"
I would follow him around and try to get that shot that captured how weird and rat-like he was. Somehow he always looked like a million dollars in a photo.
He was always doing something stupid.
Ari, my five year old neighbor (at that time) chased him down. Pepper ran for his life for about five feet. Then he threw himself down on the pavement and went belly up like a submissive dog. Not good survival instincts.
He loved water. As a kitten I had to fish him out of the toilet five times before I realized the lid had to go down until he was big enough to get out by himself. He jumped into the full tub more than once. Loved when I turned on the garden hose and ran it down his back. I could always tell when there was a pipe leaking under one of the apartments because he would come home with a demented expression and a soaked head.
what a nut.
The down side was that he was wreaking my life. He was spoiled rotten and high maintenance. There was no sleep to be had for seven years. I was stating to have close calls of the vehicular kind. My hair was beginning to look a lot like his. We started to compete in the dazed and confused contest.
He met a swift end. As sad as I was I got the first full night of sleep in years.
After two years of catching up on sleep I am starting to miss him.
In a tupperware kind of way.
Thats when you have something really great but its only good in small doses. You keep it in tupperware and only take it out when you have the energy to deal with it.
A bag of chicharrones would make me feel better. I could put it in tupperware.
I could stick a name tag on it and call it Pepper.
