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After moving from Long Island and settling in Florida, my parent’s finally decided on whether or not to get me a pet for my birthday. I was turning seven that year and never really had a pet of my own. It was nearing Thanksgiving vacation and I could hardly wait! I was full of anticipation and kept begging for it sooner and sooner. One day I came home from school and my mom brought me out on the screened-in porch. In the corner of my eye, I spotted a frisky little fur ball, terrorizing the other cat. I walked over and picked him up. His fur was soft as silk, with little white patches of fur covering his paws. My mom told me he was a Maine Coon cat and around 8-9 weeks old. He followed me all over the house like he was my shadow. I had to decide on his name so he wouldn’t be just known as “the cat”. After going through dozens of weird names, I finally decided on calling him Mittens. It fit him perfectly, since he had all white paws. Throughout the next two years, Mittens would climb, jump or practically fly over our chain-link fence in the back yard.
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