I never found the orange tabby appealing. Despite the popularity of cartoon cats like, Garfield, Heathcliff, and my favorite, Shreks Puss in Boots. It was never the color that disturbed me, I found their faces to be, too fat, too flat, or too blank. Then there was Spike.
The two cats we had died and the house had been sans cats for almost a year. It was a nice change for me after three decades that included one black cat, one grey cat, one white cat, and two brown tabbies. I thought no pets was refreshing, but I was alone in that feeling. I finally caved from all of the pleading and begging and we went to a shelter. My daughter, whose favorite color is orange, made a beeline for the orange kitten. He seemed very gentle and sweet so I agreed. He had a brown tabby sister so we adopted the two of them and dubbed them Spike and Allie.
Since then, we have also given a home to a stray tabby that wouldn't leave our door. Jack would hop up on our picture window and meow at us while we watched TV at all hours. It was a solid case of the squeaky cat getting the oil. Of the three cats Spike is the only one I really love. He has the sweetest disposition and sleeps at the foot of my bed each night. Occasionally he sleeps under the covers with me. He's also a fine actor, when he's hungry he sits with his eyes half shut. His body moves slightly as if he'll fall over from weakness if not fed immediately. He should be on stage.
I can't end here without mentioning my other two favorite cats that I had the privilege to live with. Butch and Mouse. Butch lived until the age of 19, and was a brown tabby. Mouse died at around 10, he was a pure white cat who could fetch. Both were sweet, smart cats, with lots of personality. They've both left a hole in my heart through their absence.
I've been thinking about getting a dog, don't tell my kid.
