One weekend I came home from school to three cute little kitties. My brother and sister were each going to pick one, and then the other one was going to go back to Blair's. Well, that wasn't fair. I wanted a kitty, too. Besides, the one they were going to send back was the smallest, the runt. I loved her immediately.
They were so cute when they were little. My sister claimed the orange one, which my brother named Baxter. He took the black and white and named him Leroy. My cat was the runt, the gray stripe. I named her Kaia.
She was the biggest wimp alive, I swear to you. Afraid of everything.
About two years later Baxter broke his leg outside and had to have it cast. He had some other problems, so he ended up living with the local vet. (For real, the vet loved him and said he would take care of him. He's still there to this day.) The next summer Leroy got hit by a car on the road and died.
No one could believe the runt, Kaia, was the surviving cat.
Well, this past spring Kaia disappeared. We're pretty sure she got eaten by a fox or a hawk. She was pretty small; easy prey. Sadly.
In any case, we're down to one cat, Blair's cat Kiki, which is the mother of our three. Ironically, she survived all of her kittens from that litter. Maybe someday I'll have a cat again.