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I remember when Kitty was 2. She would meow at me all night “what pretty girl?” I would ask. “Meow, meow, meow” she would say. All she wanted was attention really, she was saying “why are you trying to sleep?, why won’t you pet me?”

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Kitty was my cat. She was a small, orange cat with long, fluffy hair. She always had a way of cheering me up, and never would she turn her back on me. For the longest time she was the only friend I had. When she was two, she got pregnant and “meow, meow?” She was asking for help. She was new to this and she was scared, I could tell. I gently picked her up and brought her to the linen closet and made a place for her. False alarm, she was just hungry.

But I left the bedding for her because I knew she was due soon. A few days later she started to get exited again and said, “MEOW, MEOW, MEOW?” Over and over again as if asking if she can go to her place, so I opened the linen closet and she went and lay down. I left her alone figuring she would meow if something went wrong. An hour or so later I found her where I left her, but she was cleaning off her three, beautiful, new kittens. She looked up at me, beaming and glowing with happiness. “MEOW” which meant look, look at my pretty babies.

That’s my pretty Kitty, good girl.

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Dedicated to my cat, Pretty Kitty.

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