One random day about 4 years later, in January 2006, my godfather called me. He told me there was a stray kitten that had wandered into his work building in the city of Buffalo. They had tried getting rid of it, but it kept finding it's way back into the building. "Do you think you guys could take it in?" he asked. "We want a good home for it." Immediately I was angered. Why would he be calling us? I wondered. He KNOWS we can't have an animal. Regardless of my hot head, I told him I would talk to mom about it. We hung up, and I became excited. What if we actually could take this kitten in? I told mom about it; she ended up calling my godfather for more information...I still have no idea why she bothered. That Friday, January 13, I came home to a meowing little gray kitten at the door. Instant tears. I couldn't believe my wish upon a star had come true.
Now, I should probably mention my dad was out of town that weekend. Before mom brought the cat home, she had actually called him for the go-ahead to adopt it. Well, he must have just been having too great of a time with his buddies, because he never said anything about hating cats, hating their fur, hating their faces, all of which he brought up with his arms folded the second she greeted him at the door when he came home. He was not happy. "I don't like cats," he said, very matter-of-fact. Me, mom, and my sister Alicia all looked at each other and gulped. We figured it would just take some time for him to get used to the idea. But he didn't just get used to the idea. He fell head over heals for that stinkin' cat.
We named her Weezie. We had two different stories ready for why we named her that, depending on the demographic asking about it. If we were telling a pretty good friend, co-worker or teacher, the conversation would look something like this: "Her name is Weezie." "Oh! Why'd you name her that?" "Because usually cats make mom and Alicia wheezy!" This usually followed with some light chuckling. However, if we were telling a really close friend, relative, or someone who simply just shares the same kind of sick humor as my family, the conversation would look something more like: "Her name is Weezie." "Oh! Why'd you name her that?" "Because Weezie Jefferson in the TV show The Jefferson's moved on up from the east side!" This usually followed with hearty laughter, maybe some snorting, and milk coming out of the nose. You get my point.
Having a cat was a novelty for all of us. A novelty that simply just did not wear off. It didn't take dad long at all to warm up to her. Pretty soon she was his "baby girl" or "Weezer." I think all families probably have pet names for their pet. We always wanted to hold her, play with her, and yes, even scoop her poop up after her. When she was a kitten she had this fetish of freaking us all out when we were trying to sleep by jumping up onto the beds and pouncing on our feet. She was so playful.
We bought her a bed that she was way too small for; we thought she'd never grow into it. She did, eventually. Not to mention mom bought her two Longaberger baskets to sleep in; one for the family room and one for her bedroom. Every trip to the Dollar Store would lead to buying her another toy mouse, mouse on a string, mouse in a ball, etc. She got Christmas gifts. She was one spoiled little kitty.
We had our fair share of freak outs with her; we would let her outside occasionally, and one day she slipped outside the fence when none of us were watching and didn't come back until the next morning. One time she brought a chipmunk into the house and didn't set it down until she had shown mommy what she had caught - in her walk in closet. Alicia and mom had a fun morning trying to catch the friggin thing.
She was so smart. Once she sat adamantly in front of the fire place, meowing. It only took us two days to figure out she was trying to tell us there was a squirrel who got stuck in there. If she was hungry or wanted to go outside, she'd tell you. She learned words like "treat," "chicki chicki" (chicken), and even her own name. But she was still always stupider than your average dog.
Except for the occasional times where she'd hop up onto a kitchen chair or try to claw her way outside, Weezie was never really scolded. She was always the most well behaved out of Alicia and me. She loved everyone. Well everyone except Grandma, Aunt Simone, Aunt Linda, Mike...I should probably just delete my previous statement. Weezie brought a kind of love into the house that none of us had ever experienced before. If mom or dad or any of us had a bad day at school or work, we'd feel better the second we walked into the house because of the gray little furball sitting there to greet us. She calmed us down and let us hold her when we needed a good cry. We could talk to her without worrying she'd tattle tale. She was the perfect little friend.
About a year ago, Weezie was diagnosed with feline asthma. Yes, there's such a thing! The past year has been full of vet visits, different medications and diagnoses, but she continued to get worse. When we could see that her breathing was labored and she was having 2 or 3 coughing spells a day, we knew it was time for kitty heaven. Dad went and put her down today. He told me it was the hardest thing he's ever had to do. I believe him. It's hard not to get attached to the animal that's been cozying up your house for the past 6 years. Weezie will always be the best thing that's ever happened to our family as a whole. She had a special little connection with each of us. She loved mom the most. Probably because she was the one who rescued her. She is already so missed. RIP little Weezer Bee! We miss you!
