I have always been a dog person. I absolutely love dogs, especially big dogs. However, when I was in college at Oregon State, I wanted a pet and my landlord said, “No dogs!” So I went and found myself a cat, who over the past 9 years I have grown to love dearly. Jack is part of my family and I was very, very sad to have to leave him behind in the States. I knew that Shanghai would be no place for my cat who loves going outside and roaming around; so luckily, he has a wonderful new home with my mom and her husband.
I do miss Jack, and most of my life I have had animals around. When I see the cats on the streets of Shanghai, I want to take them home and love on them – even more so when I see little homeless kittens. So when my roommate asked the other day if I would mind getting a cat, it was hard for me to say no. I knew no one would ever replace my dear Jack and also that I will eventually have to leave this cat behind when I go back to the States. Yet, having a cat still seemed like something I could deal with. Not nearly as much work as a dog, cute, cuddly and sweet. Jane said she wanted a Persian – I said I wanted to rescue a street kitten.
The very next day, after our cat discussion, my roommate, Jane, called me up and said, “I found kittens! Come help me pick one out!” I thought she was out to dinner with friends, so I was a bit confused. It turned out she was out to dinner – and outside the restaurant where she was eating someone had dropped off 4 little teeny kittens. The people running the restaurant were trying to give them away.
Jane refuses to have a black cat, even an adorable black tabby cat, so we were left with the two white cats with black spots to chose from. We picked one, went inside where Jane still had to eat her dinner and I grabbed a drink and began discussing names. Jane’s friend and friend’s boyfriend were there and we were throwing out every possible name or word we thought of for a name. After about an hour of either Jane, me or both of us turning down suggestions, I finally asked, “What is the name of this place anyways?” Memo. So it was decided, we named our new dear kitten Memo – after the place where we got her.
Memo came home in a Jack Daniels box, taking the taxi with Jane and I. Before coming home we swung by the pet shop that is just next to our apartment complex. They had closed at 9pm and it was 9:30pm. Yet, Jane managed to convince them (the door was unlocked still so we walked in) to give our little dirty street kitten named Memo a bath before we took her home.
Equipped with food and litter for the night, from the people at the restaurant, and a clean kitten, we went home to play with Memo until we were all ready to sleep. The next morning, we were back in the pet shop for more supplies, the cleaning of Memo’s ears (which desperately needed it) and trimming of her nails.
Memo is a little teeny thing, only about 45 days old. She has teeth and can eat dry cat food, she knows how to use the litter box, but can barely jump on my low bed and feels so fragile in my hands! She is scared to leave my bedroom and burrows under the covers to sleep when no one is around. Her black spots are actually striped and she looks like she is wearing a crown with the spot on her head.
She is a lucky girl coming home with us, and will most certainly be spoiled.