Have a Beer

It was 1996 and 7-year-old me was excited to go on a school field trip to see "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". I had just lost my cat who had been part of the family since before my birth. Spike would always snuggle me and keep me safe. He’d let me read to him and we’d watch TV together. He loved chasing balls and feathers on a string. I felt a hole in my soul immediately when he left this world.

Unfortunately, I contracted the chicken pox the week of the movie and I had to stay home. I was miserable. I was itchy. I hated the slimy feel of the oatmeal bath and the pieces of clumped squishiness that floated along beside me. I just sat still, crying, as my mom tried to soothe my misery.

I cried and moped around, lamenting about the experience I was missing out on. My mom took pity and promised that when I got better, she would take me, and we'd have a wonderful mother and daughter date. I was excited and perked up.

My father braided my hair for the date. I wasn't use to braided hair. It was sectioned into four ponytails with beads on the end that clicked together whenever I moved. It hurt and I hated it, but I laughed and smiled so I wouldn't hurt my father's feelings. We went to a store while we were out wasting time before the movie started. I received stares that made me self-conscious when my mom took me shopping and I begged to go somewhere else. She agreed and we walked around outside for a little bit before the movie started.

I noticed a small black lump in the corner by the theater. I ran over excitedly, thinking it was a dead bird. I was a weird child. But, when I got up close, a little head popped up and large eyes pleaded with me as the little creature mewed.

It was a kitten! I was so happy. I screamed for my mom and she rushed over. I could tell she wasn't ready for another cat, but she also didn't want to leave an innocent life to fend for itself. So, she called my father to come pick it up, even though I was convinced it would want to see the movie too. I yelled for him to keep the kitten safe as my father drove away.

We got home and my mom realized the kitten was male, so we started thinking of boy names. It was hard. That night I built the kitten a box house next to my bed, but he didn't want anything to do with me. It made me sad. I was on love with him and happy to have a new friend. I gave him treats to stay with me, but he always left when the treats were gone. I settled in for the night, facing my window, missing Spike and wondering why the new kitten didn't like me. But, at some point in the night, he jumped on the bed and curled into my back. His purring made me feel better and we drifted off to sleep; both of use happy and safe with a new friend.

A few days later my mom and father were attempting to catch him and take him to the vet. But he was too fast and too agile. He'd duck, and dodge, and weave all around the Livingroom. Exasperated my mom told my dad, "I bet if he was a beer you could catch him". With his new name, Beer was officially part of the family.