We got Pepper when I was in eighth grade when someone was giving cats away from their car. I went over just wanting to hold one. They were so cute! Then HE latched on and wouldnÕt let go. Why did Pepper have to choose me? He was the sickly one with no brain. I wanted the little female with gray fur. Back then, in a moment of insanity, I found it endearing how he wouldnÕt go to anyone else and how soft his hair was. He was like a little sausage with legs and so tiny, probably the runt.


My mom came and said no. So I called dad and he said yes. Mom still said no. I cried. You already have a cat.Ó I threw a tantrum that would have put my six year old nephew to shame. Finally she said yes just to shut me up. The tiny kitten fell asleep in my lap.


I walked around the pet store holding Pepper proudly on my shoulder as my mom tried to find the proper supplies for a motherless kitten that was too little to eat cat food.


I was going to name his Socrates and nickname his Soccer for the patch of white in his black fur. Fortunately I thought that name was stupid and named his Pepper instead. No way has a great Greek philosopher needed to be desecrated by sharing his name with that dumb animal.
Pepper didnÕt know how to use his litter box. Pepper chewed through his bottle nipple and ate it. Pepper got sick and we had to give his baby medicine. Pepper got out of the room we kept him in and was attack the older cat. Pepper hated baths but he always needed one. Pepper knocked everything over and chewed all my pens. Pepper wakes me up at four in the morning by chewing on my feet. Oh, how I love my Peppy-kins so!