When I was two years old, our neighbor, Susan, who is a complete Cat Saint, and our family noticed a skinny homeless cat on our block. Susan, the Cat Saint she is, fed him and observed him, concluding he would be perfect for our family. We told Susan we would think about it, and fall became winter.
One particularly chilly night, with the weather looking even bleaker for the days ahead, we decided we would take the stray cat in, so we went over to Susan’s, let her know, found our new companion, and brought him home, with supplies Susan had given us. We played with our cat, whom we named Medium Decaf Milkshake With Whipped Cream On Top, Can You Split That Into Two Cups Please? after our favorite milkshake which he looked exactly like, being a siamese cat. We used to get that milkshake a lot. We called him Mocha as a nickname. The night got later, and Zach and I went to bed with Mocha curled by us, oblivious to what the morning had in store for us.
