A story of Munchie

When I was 19 years old, I was dating a guy named David who lived in North Park. There was a pet store in the shopping center by his house, and I went in one day to see the kittens. There were kittens in two cages; little kittens that were between six and eight weeks old, and another cage of kittens that were over 4 months old. I was playing with a cute little brown tabby in the “older kitten” cage when the clerk asked me, “Do you want to take him?” I said that I was just playing and that I wasn’t really looking for a cat. She said that the three kittens that were in the older kitten cage were going to be sent back to the breeder and euthanized or used as breeders if they didn’t get sold, so if I wanted the kitten that I was playing with, I could just take him, because she’d rather write him off as a loss than have him put down or have to live in a breeding facility. She came open and opened the cage and handed him to me and said, “If you want him, just go, and give him a good life.” So I took him.

I brought him home to mom’s house and explained what happened and asked if we could keep him (as every child has done to their parent(s) at one time or another). I told her what the pet store lady had said to me about him being euthanized or forced to breed. She agreed that we’d keep him. Since I wasn’t planning on getting a cat, I didn’t have any cat stuff for him, he just came home with a paper collar that said “Kitten #49” on it. So, his name ended up being Mr Joe Montana Cat, less formally as either Montana or Munchie. I don’t remember how it morphed to Munchie, but I think it probably had to do with his eating habits. He liked to eat, and ended up as a healthy 19 pounder at the height of his life.

I ended up moving out and moving on, and Munchie stayed with mom. He had a calm and sweet disposition and loved to cuddle with his buddy Mumbles (whom I had also brought home as a stray, a year or so later). He and Mumbles were so close as to be considered brothers; they were inseparable until Mumbles came down with kidney disease and eventually had to be put down in 2010. Munchie mourned the loss of his brother and never quite got over it. In the past couple years,  he’s been fighting his own health battles, and today we’re taking him to be put down. He’s tired of fighting and it’s time to let go.

I like to think that I provided him with the good life that the pet store woman asked of me. He had a home, a brother, a sister, a caretaker who loved him dearly, plenty of food and water, and lots of love. He was a good cat.

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