Number 9 Finally Came Up

Well it was bound to happen, and I wasn’t quite expecting it, but… my cat died. Now that I have your attention, it was not Sukie. Her name was Zena (pronounced like Nina with a zed) and she was damn near I would have to guess we got her as a Christmas present in 1994. Originally called Buttercup for like three days, I had a lot of good times with that cat. My sisters from almost the beginning had a really bad habit of picking her up usually when she was sleeping and carry her around the house. Due to this, when she would get close enough to a solid surface, she would freak out and pounce just to get away.
The way I shall remember her is… when my sister Holly dropped the damn thing on me. I was in seventh or eighth grade and it was a weekend. My friend Harvey had stayed the night and was sleeping in my bed while I was on a mattress thing on the floor. (I was a good friend) When 9 AM rolled around, Holly comes strolling into the bedroom with the cat under one arm. She then attempts to wake me up, unsuccessfully. She then steps over and is now holding Zena over me asking me to wake up. I roll over to try and fall asleep again when all of a sudden the cat freaks out and lands on my left shoulder and IMMEDIATELY pounces onto the bed and out of the room. In the process of landing on my shoulder, she dug her hind claws into my supple flesh and gave me three, three inch scars that I carry till this day.
If cats do really have nine lives, here is how Zena’s played out.

1. Car Accident
2. Running With Scissors
3. Fatty Liver
4. Our Dog Aurora
5. Tainted Cat Food
6. Ninja Training
7. Ninja Graduation
8. Pop Rocks and Coke
9. Probably Kidney Failure, not drinking water etc.

So here is to you Zena… 1994-2008.
Here is an awful rendition of what she might look like in heaven.

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