Stories From Pouncer's Life

The exact details of this story is kind of blurry because I was only three at the time, and I had only just started developing conscious memories, but I do remember a period of time when Pouncer wasn't in my life. We had a dog, a big German Shepherd named Keisha. I remember specifically asking if we could also get a kitty. My parents would say no every time. 

Our family friends had a lot of pets, from hamsters to birds, cats and dogs. Mom would call their place a zoo, but they were good friends of ours, and my brother and I were friends with their kids. The mom of the family, my mom's friend, did a lot of animal rescue, that included, but not limited to Squirrels and other wildlife. I remember being particularly fond of a white cat they had named JC. He was a beautiful cat, one blue eye, one green eye, a pointed face, and long beautiful white fur. He was really soft, and I used to love petting him. He was a patient old man who let me love on him, never once biting or scratching me. 

Our next door neighbor was a kindly old lady who had a lovely and friendly tuxedo cat named Mowzie. Mowzie was one of my very first friends. If I was outside, he usually found me, and hung out with me. I'd talk to him and pet him, he too was a patient old man. I remember mom looking out the window to our patio, and telling me that Mowzie wanted me to come outside and play. I don't remember us playing as much as I remember talking to him, petting him, and giving him the occasional hug. He would follow me around the yard if I was outside.

Needless to say, I loved cats. I liked dogs all well and good, but I found that cats were more my speed. It helped that the cats in my life were patient and friendly old men who didn't mind having a three year old constantly pester them. I never before had experienced cat bites or scratches because the old boys were just that friendly. 

This was also a time when Petz Catz was a new thing for the computer, and it was my favorite computer game. My favorite was the black and white cat with the default Name Pouncer. It seemed to be the angriest cat of the bunch, but I loved it so much because the rest of the cats didn't really appeal to me. Pouncer would play and chase mice, and had a really sweet face when given praise, and I loved it-even though it constantly growled. 

One day the family friend called my mom, asking if she would be willing to foster a kitten she found in a trash can with his brother. Our family friends lived in the city, so there was no telling who put the kittens there or why. My mom, being the loving soul, said that she would foster the kitten. Back then, my mom was a stay-at-home mom, so she had all the time she needed to look after a newborn kitten, his eyes barely open yet. Mom showed him to me, and my face lit up the most. I gasped and cried out "it's a Pouncer!" and the name stuck from there. 

Pouncer was polydactile, which means he had more toes on each paw than a normal cat. Mom would say that he was all claws. From day 1, Pouncer had a fighting spirit, having to be wrapped in a washcloth to be bottle-fed. As Pouncer got bigger, Mom would put me and Pouncer in Keisha's large metal kennel to play, to ensure Pouncer was safe while we played. Due to Keisha's strict training to ensure she protected my brother and I, she made sure that training included Pouncer. Mom would stress to her "he's a baby! Don't hurt the baby!" which was a key phrase making sure she'd be nice to him. There have been days where she would walk around the house with Pouncer hanging off her face. She was a good girl, and just as protective over Pouncer as she was over our family, but there's a story there for later. 

I wasn't the brightest child in the world, but I was smart enough to know the relationship between cats and mice. I was also smart enough to know that our old house had a mouse problem. I kept asking if we could keep Pouncer, and I was always met with "no". My mom always told me that if we were to keep Pouncer, I need to convince my dad. So my sales pitch began. Three years old, almost four at the time, and I managed to convince my dad that seeing as though we had a mouse problem, it would be wise to have a cat, especially if the cat was a good mouser, and although I'm sure he didn't believe me, I told him that since he was a "Pouncer" he was totally going to be good at catching mice. I think my dad was just impressed by my argument. 

The day we were supposed to give Pouncer back, I cried. Giving my beloved kitten a tearful goodbye. My parents took me aside and explained that cats are a big responsibility. I had to make sure that he is well fed, had water, and that I cleaned up after him-the litter box would be my chore, if I was serious about keeping Pouncer. Of course I agreed! I didn't want him to go! So they agreed. Pouncer was going to stay. Now, I wasn't perfect about keeping his litter box clean, but what four year old is? But I'd like to think that I did pretty good for my age. 

From that day forward, Pouncer and I were inseparable. Best friends until the day he crossed the rainbow bridge.