Chapter 1.
I suppose we must start with this one, for, in a way, she was the first, or maybe the foremost, pet, and we must start with her.
This is the story, or the beginning as it is a long one, of Carablanca, or White Face, a Beautiful, Wise, and Caring Cat.
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Once upon a time, there was a room. In fact there was a house too, but the room was what mattered most to the Cat. It was painted a reddish orange, and the window frames and doors were painted a very dark blue.
In the room, there was a bed: always messy that bed was, with a 2 pillows, one without a cover, and a mess of blankets upon it.
Next to the bed there was also a shel-like structure, painted white with black hearts, that housed the boys books and numerous water cups.
There was also a cabinet- or Bürro as the boy liked to call it -where a certain somebody always liked to sit upon, it being the highest vantage point in the room, and watch everything with her large, beautiful green eyes.
There was also a big table and an old, swiveling chair. That chair would shriek terribly if it was at all moved or sat upon.
There was also a desk, and this desk was situated right in front of the two large blue double doors that opened into the living room, for the boy preferred to use only the other door, which opened into the hallway. This desk was very old and one of its top drawers wound never quite close properly, as it was stuffed so full with saved wrapping paper. The drawer across from it was the nick-knack drawer, and it housed a whole number wonderful things; little cars, pocket knives, marbles, and a hundred other small, amazing keepsakes. Between the desk and the Bürro stood a small plastic green yellow and red fishing pole.
The room had 2 windows: the one behind the bürro had a very old and patched screen and looked out onto the porch, and the other was next to the bed, which had no screen, and looked out onto the drive way. That was this window that the cat used to jump in and out the room. Her 2 habitats: the small reddish-orange room, and the great, wild outdoors.
Once upon a time there was a Boy and a Cat.
The boy loved the cat very much, and the Cat Loved and Trusted the boy almost explicitly.
He did not look on the cat like she was his pet, or like he was the parent, no, in fact he was very firm on this point. He looked on the Cat like a Friend, or Companion. And the Cat, a very Mothering Creature, looked on the boy like he was her kitten, and she would try to bath him, licking at his dark hair, or she would bring him Mice and other rodents and birds. But the boy never ate them. But he would congratulate her and tell her what a good kitty she was and when she was sure he didn't want it, she herself would eat it. She was very good, most of the time, about cleaning up after herself.
Sometimes, late at night or in the afternoon, the Cat would jump in through the window, and sometimes the window would be closed, and there would be a thump, and the boy would notice and open the window, and she jumped through again.
And almost every night the Cat and the Boy would cuddle up in bed, and sleep.
The Boy Loved the Cat and the Cat Loved the boy. But soon the Boy was there less and less. he would go away for many hours of the day, and the cat never understood why.
But of course, the Boy was growing up. And he wouldn't always be in that room, the floor strewn with LEGOs, listening to an Audiobook while he figured out a particularly complicated robot, or organized a mid evil army.
And then he only came for a couple days at a time, and then once a week.. and then the boy left.
The Cat never knew why.
