(THE ONE ON THE BOTTOM)
Chico, a very special kitty, was the first kitty to join our family. Soon after my parents divorce, we decided to get a cat. But first, we had to have a name.
I happened to be wearing a Chic jacket, so I just tacked an o on the end, and we picked that. Later, I found out that Chico actually meant "boy" in Spanish. But by then, it was too late.
We got her on December 14, 1985. I was at a Christmans party, so my mom and sister went to pick her out of a litter in our neighborhood. A torbie, a tortoiseshell and tabby mix, is what they called her coloring.
The first few years she spent being picked on by my sister and I. Being little kids, we didn't know any better. She got dressed in Cabbage Patch clothes, took a spin in the dryer, and yet came out unscathed. She used to sit on our chests and lick our shoulders till our clothes were wet! She was always there, drying our tears through the numerous tribulations of childhood. That fur was there to take it all.
Eventually, my parents remarried, and Samantha, our second cat, was added to our furfamily. Samantha and Chico became the best of friends, Chico being the Momma cat she is. They slept together almost always, Chico being a good pllow. Chico went on to 4H Cat Shows with me, garnering several blue and red ribbons through my 6 years there. She never did like those cages, or the judges either, but she was still there, doing her best.
After this, she just became a normal sight around our house. We moved in 1990 across town, and she took to our new surroundings well. We added a puppy to the bunch in early 1991, Honey. Chico tolerated the nuisance, and I think they eventually came to like one another. In November of 1995, we got Maddie. Maddie went over the Rainbow Bridge only 11 months after we got her from a friend's aunt, but she was sweet. Chico didn't like her much, but towards the end learned to tolerate her too. Pumpkin was next, with her kitten escapades, in the summer of 1996.
I went off to college in the fall of 1995, so I got to see our furfamily less and less, but when I returned home for a visit, they were all there for me as usual.
I got my first cat, Calla, in May of 1997. Chico only met her 3 times, but Calla tends to be a nuisance. Lots of hissing went on between the two of them, Chico and Calla, and well as the rest of the cats.
It wasn't until October when things began to take a turn for the worse. Chico, who'd always been a large cat, began losing weight. We thought at first that it was just old age setting in. We think she got to about 14 or 15 pounds at the height of her life, but soon we could feel her spine, and she began to have trouble breathing. When the jaundice set in, we knew we didn't have much more time. We took her to the vet, who began treating her with two prescription medications. But she countinued to get worse, not eating, and if she did, getting sick. She couldn't keep anything down. Soon we were feeding her through a syringe. She DEFINATELY didn't like that! Our usual vet was out of town the last time she visited, and there was a traveling vet, a recent graduate, who we thought might be able to help her. But it was for naught. My mother had to make the hard decision there and then. We said goodbye to her that day, a Saturday in mid November. My sister had been working the late shift at a local hotel, and they decided to wait till she awoke to bury her. She's now placed beside her kitty sister Maddie beside our house.
I will never forget my first and favorite Chico Girl, and I know that when my time comes, she will come and greet me at the Rainbow Bridge.
Sweet Dreams, Chiks...
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