A kitten, born under my neighbors house with about a half dozen other kittens. Born a calico or a walking snickers bar if you will. 

My family brought her over to our house, including all her siblings. We used a cardboard box to carry them all across the yard. We let them loose our living room and played with whichever ones would let us pet them or hold them.

I don’t remember exactly what made us choose our cat but I do remember that she was perfect for

our family. We officially adopted her and my best friend and her mom took her to the vet to make sure she got all her shots and even gave us some milk that was safe for kittens to drink. 

But then the most important part came upon us, choosing her name. My mother had wanted to name her spectacles and to this day, I couldn’t tell you why. I don’t remember what my second grade mind wanted to name my kitten but you can only imagine what a second grader was thinking when getting free range to name an animal. But then a light bulb went off in my brother’s head. When he told me this name, I thought it was kind of stupid as to what kind of person would name a kitten Brownie. But now I think it fits her ironically as she could not be any further from the characteristics of a brownie. But we all agreed that that would be her name. So the years went on. 

We got her a bed, then a scratching post, and then we finally got her a cat tree and we put her throne (her bed) at the top. She has had multiple beds throughout the year and she sheds a lot and likes to rip things up. But she finally has had her current one for a few years now. It sits at the top of the stairs on a little perch that sticks out next to my parents bedroom door. 

The stairs have brought many memories. Perhaps one of my favorite memories of all. I was in late elementary school I believe. I used to love to play with dolls and I had a stroller. For some reason my brain thought it would be a great idea to strap my cat into this stroller and push her down the stairs. 

The stroller being about two thirds the size of an actual baby stroller and my cat being so tiny she could barely fit. But nevertheless, I strapped her in and pushed the stroller past the first step. As you can imagine it did not go very well. It passed maybe two steps before it tumbled over and tipped over, sliding the rest of the way down the stairs. The stroller made it to the bottom but my cat didn’t. She figured out how to escape the straps. She turned around, hissed at me, then ran to our basement and hid. 

That being one of my favorite memories, I also have some sad ones. 

I was maybe in fifth or sixth grade. My family and I are looking around the house trying to find Brownie. She was nowhere to be found. We searched for hours before we made the assumption that she had gotten out and ran away. We hung up posters at traffic signal poles and handed them out to people. It had been a few days before my mom came into the family room crying. I looked down and saw she was holding Brownie. She then told me that while she was working on the porch my neighbors called her over thinking they had found my cat. They found her in the garage and lured her in with a piece of salami. My mom held onto her tightly while she walked across the yard. With my cat finally being home, I could be at ease and that experience made me appreciate my cat so much more. 

The weeks and months afterward went as normal. With some more funny memories like making my cat socks and getting sunflower, reindeer, pizza, turtle and so many more costumes for her. 

My days now consist of picking her up every time she looks comfortable because I like to mess with her. One of the best parts of my week is when I put her leash on. She tends to flop on the floor in protest but she will occasionally walk outside and walk along the brick garden. But the main reason for the leash is that when she goes outside, she eats grass. That wouldn’t be a problem if she didn’t throw it up the next day. So now when I take her outside I can feel her pull when she leans in to eat the grass and I can gently pull the leash and that’s my way of letting her know that she should stop eating grass. Almost one hundred percent of the time it doesn’t work. But at least I tried. When she goes inside afterwards and I take the leash off every time without fail she flops on the floor. 

When my brother is away at college his room becomes hers, as every time you look in the room she’s either laying at the front of the bed or where the pillow is. Even when my brother comes home she still lays on that bed day and night. 

She’s very lazy and sometimes I wish I could switch lives with her for a day or two because she’s constantly getting hugs and is able to sleep whenever she wants. I don’t know what I’ll do when I go off to college but it will be a struggle.