McKenzie

My husband and I were married in 1984. As our 2nd anniversary rolled around, I was pining for someone to baby. Besides him.

“I’m ready for a baby or a cat.” I announced to my husband.

“A cat!” My husband, usually slow at making decisions, had no trouble with this one.

I told my mom I was searching for a new family member. She, all-around pet lover and animal magnet, took little time finding the advertisement in the newspaper. FREE KITTENS. My mother and I jumped in the car.

An elderly woman met us at the door. As we passed through the kitchen, she pointed to the cabinet in which the kittens had been born, and then led us to a bedroom. We found 3 playful kittens romping and rolling on the bed, each of them Tuxedo Cats. I had trouble picking my kitten, so when my mom said she especially liked the one with unique markings, I chose her.

It didn’t take long to name my female kitten. When I worked at a drugstore, I met a couple who named their baby McKenzie. I planned to save the name for our first daughter, but gave it to our kitten instead.

McKenzie was a lap cat, though she allowed only a few strokes, then no more touching allowed. She hated music and would meow loudly and gently bite us when we sang. She was temperamental, as cats can be.

She had dog-like tendencies, loving to fetch small paper-wads and sitting at the door to go outside.

McKenzie was with us to welcome our two children into the family. She wasn’t quite sure about them at first, but in time she became a good friend to each of them.

In 1999, at the age of 13, McKenzie moved to that big litter box in the sky. I expect her to be in Heaven when I get there, so don’t mess with my theology.

We have had other cats, but McKenzie was my first and my favorite.