When I was 4, my family adopted a stray cat who would wander around our neighborhood. She used to come into our backyard, and I would feed her bits of cheese and cheerios. I guess I should say she adopted us. She knew where she wanted to be, and she always came back. I named her Spooky…because as a four-year-old, that was the obvious name for an all black cat.
Spooky got around *cough cough* (as outdoor cats tend to do, scandalous!), and she a litter of precious little kittens not long after. I still remember their teeny tiny little eyes, closed tight against the world as their proud mama carried them around the house by the scruff of their necks. We kept one of her kittens, the one with the offbeat personality and little black mustache. Again my superb cat-naming abilities taken into account, and this little kitty was called Blinky.
I actually still remember the moment when I came up with the name…I was standing in the carport of the first house we lived in, out in east Gainesville. I had been playing with My Little Ponies and loving on the kittens. I didn’t know at the time that my friend’s dad from across the street was under house arrest, or that the old Southern man next door to him had alot of hate in his heart. All I knew, in my little girl heart, was that I had a new kitty, and Blinky was the perfect name.
So Blinky she was, and Blinky she has been for the last 19 years. I got to see Blinky two weeks ago, and I knew it was probably the last time. I got to pet her and see her sweet face, and remember how much I loved her when I was a little girl. I still love her now, but there is nothing like a little girl’s love for her kitty.
You’ll be missed, Blinky Boo. We loved your crazy personality and weird cat antics. You never wanted us too close, but you never wanted us too far away either. You loved us at a distance, and we loved you right back.