The Saga of Peaches
As I said earlier in my photostream, I promised someone long ago that I would post how I came to acquire each of my three cats. I have already done Tinky and now it's Peaches' turn.
The Saga of Peaches
Peaches, and How We Got Him
Yes, Peaches is a boy. No, we didn't once think he's a girl, and no, he isn't a frilly, feminine kitty. He is silly, and lovable and beautiful, but not all that smart. Once you know him, you know there is no other name in the world that fits him so well as Peaches. Except maybe Pumpkin, but that is another story.
Peaches is probably 8 or 9 in my estimation. He was also full grown when we got him and also came from my Parents' house. We got Peaches sometime when I was in high school.
One time, my neighbor Megan (not her real name) went to the ritzy, wealthy side of town to visit her mother. Her mother was elderly and she did her grocery shopping for her once a week. On this week, she opened her trunk and carried the groceries in one by one. Since it was a safe neighborhood, she left the trunk open the whole time. Then she closed the trunk and went home.
When Megan got home, she opened the trunk once again to get her own groceries out and Peaches came flying out of there like a shot. She had inadvertently captured some rich lady's pet who was silly enough to jump in her trunk.
Peaches roamed the neighborhood and fell in with a bad crowd, namely, our cat Oscar. Peaches started coming to our house to be fed and not long after was a regular visitor to our house. My Dad nicknamed him "Bob" because he is half manx (and half Siamese) but Anthony quickly dubbed him "Peaches." He became a beloved member of our household for his silly personality and loving temperament.
Years passed, and Anthony and I got married and I moved to my own apartment. We lived there with Tinkerbell and sometimes entertained the idea of getting another cat, but Tinkerbell. She doesn't like them.
Then one day, I got a phone call from my mother. We have a crazy-ass neighbor who lives across the street. In fact, it's better that I don't talk about him because I'll start to slander him with unflattering epithets, such as that fucking old fucker.
Our neighbor had a grandkid who used to cross the street, walk over our lawn and *right up to our house* to pick up one of our cats to take to Grandpa's house to love on while he was visiting. This? We did not mind. The grandkid loved our cats and we thought we were on good terms with the neighbor.
Well, our cats got so used to being picked up and carried over to his house that they started going there on their own. And my neighbor? Was a total asshole about it and yelled at my mom to keep our cats at home.
Well, it's really hard to train a cat. Unless you are a child who walks across the street and into the neighbor's yard I guess.
So the neighbor bought a cat trap, trapped Peaches, and took him to the pound. Which was why mom was calling me. She wanted to know if I could get Peaches out of the slammer and have him live at our house.
And of course we said yes.