It was a cold April in Maine, and I kept following behind anyone entering this wonderful smelling bakery/pizzeria espresso bar. I had been living in the woods for about a year, and was merely trying
to seek refuge in a big old barn that had been converted into a business.
The customers would say to the owner, "Awe, your little kitty wants to come inside!" and the owner would rebuke, "That is not my kitty!".
Although I was awfully scrawny, I was very cute, and very persistent; the owner eventually let me warm up by the pellet stove inside the house attached to the big old barn.She insisted this was TEMPORARY. She already had a cat and a dog living there. But, I instinctively knew this loving woman would be my new mamma, so I made myself very comfortable.
She called a local veterinary office to make an appointment for me to verify cleanliness and health.
When the receptionist asked for my name, mamma answered, "I don’t have a name for him … I do not know if I will keep him… I want to confirm if he is okay…"
"Well, I have to put a name on the schedule," the receptionist insisted.
"Just put ‘Stray Cat’," mamma said with conviction.
Nine years later, I am still "Stray Cat" – many people used to say to mamma, "Ya’ gotta give that cat a name!" but it really stuck – and it suits me very well.
Me and my little sister, Stivali, hanging out today.
