For the last year of Chester’s Life, he had a new best friend. Klonopin was a tiny ball of crazy. He didn’t care that Chester weighed 25 pounds more than him. He’d punch him in the face whenever he felt like it. He would attack anything that pissed him off. I woke up one morning and found a kitten sized bite in my favorite bra.
My sister found Special K on Craiglist, he was the only boy in the backyard litter of a Russian family. I picked him up, and he curled up into my neck and he didn’t want to leave. I tried picking up his sisters. But, none of them snuggled me like that. I wasn’t sure at first “He looks too much like Tigger.” I told Joy. She looked at me, and smiled. “You can’t put him down. I think you two belong together.”
I’d been crying for the 4 days since 15 year old Tigger had his stroke. I missed Tigger so much, he and Chester were my support system when my pain flared. Chester was a good friend, but he would get overstimulated by human pets and snuggles. He could sleep with Tigger’s head stuck up his ass for 20 hours straight, but he woudn’t let me snuggle him for longer than 10 minutes. My brain needed some Oxytocin. And Klonopin curled perfectly into my neck.
At 4 weeks, he was so small when I took him home, he fit in my hand. I was afraid to let him sleep in my bed, I didn’t want to roll over him. Which is something my parents did, to a baby kitten we’d had when I was in 3rd grade. Puffball lasted 2 days in our house. At 9, I’d learned an important lesson: there is nothing grosser to wake up to than a dead kitten. My adult life I’ve always adopted kittens 6 months and older.
By night 3, he had launched an outright attack against being alone. You’re supposed to keep kittens in the bathroom and gradually introduce them to their new cat friends, to make sure they don’t murder each other the first night you get them. Chester wasn’t going to fuck with Klonopin, if anything, Special K bullied Ches. Special K had a swagger, and some lungs on him. I’d named him Konopin because he was a natural anti-depressant. He always wanted to snuggle in the nape of my neck. Even now at 2yrs old, he jumps onto my shoulders whenever he decides he needs a cuddle.
The reason he cried the second the bathroom door closed is because he wanted to be snuggling or playing with one of us at all times.
Between his lungs and his deep desire to cuddle, I decided to risk letting him sleep with me. At first I was super worried about where he was in the bed. And then I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to sleep because he couldn’t stop biting my butt. His mouth was the size of my index finger. It was like being bitten by a viscous fairy. It cracked me up. Al my fears were for nothing. He’s slept next to me every night since that day. And
He still bites everything he likes.
For the last month, when Chester was starting to die, I was very stern with Klonopin. I didn’t want him to attack Chester while Chester was feeling like shit. I made a deal with Special K, that he could attack Chester, but only with licks, no biting, no punching him in the face anymore.
So, he was gentle and careful, when we got Moose.
Moose is part dog. So, he likes to herd Klonopin. And sometimes, when Moose is feeling feelings, he’ll bite Klonopin in the back (not hard, but firmly) to get them out of his body.
Until he met Moose, Klonopin thought he was the strongest cat in the world. Chester was a really silly fighter in the first place. He’d close his eyes and punch in front of himself over and over again. Like the cat that Dom Deluise played in An American Tale. It was adorable when he did it with Tigger. Tigger was a gangster. So, he’d wait for Chester to finish and slit his eyes open to check on his progress, and then he’d punch Ches in the nose.