Today is Roxy’s first birthday, and it’s a big day in our home. When I first saw her at Petco, Roxy’s name was Kissy. Then it was Kizzy. Then it was irrelevant.
I said, “Take her off the website. This baby is going home with me.”
Roxy has acquired a ton of new names during the past year. She goes by Roxy Rox, Roxy Girl, Boo Boo Kitty and Big Pounces. When we whistle and call her name, she meows back to us. She also meows and calls to me while I’m on Skype because she thinks I’m talking to her. It’s adorable.
We have fostered many kittens during the past 18 years, but we haven’t kept many of them. Our second-youngest cat, Emma, is seven years older than Roxy. She doesn’t do much except look poonchy, so we weren’t sure how Roxy would spend her day.
Would she be an office cat? Would she watch birds?
Turns out she wants to zoom around the house and wage holy jihad on spiders, toys and the other cats. I’m fine with it. Keeps things interesting.
Life with Roxy is nonstop action with short (but hardcore) naps. She loves being chased around the basement and climbing into our rafters. She loves greeting us at the door when we get home, eating our people-food and licking our faces at night when we’re trying to sleep. This boo boo kitty doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, but she is sneaky and will eat your yogurt if you’re dumb enough to leave it unguarded.
Happy birthday, Roxy Rox! When you crawl into bed with us and knead dough on our necks like a weirdo, we know we won the lottery. You’re a keeper because your kisses smell like tuna flakes and Scrubby’s old catnip toys.
We love you very much, and we’re thrilled to share our lives with you.