Pebbles was our little, calico cat. We had her for 14 years recently had to put her down due to heart disease and fluid in her lungs, so I wanted to document this memory.
She was the runt of the litter that was living under the trailer home of the family we adopted her from. Regina had a calico when she was young and had always wanted another one. When she was pregnant with Mary Claire, a friend on Facebook was trying to find a home for some kittens. She saw a photo of her and drove to Dawsonville that weekend to pick her up.
As Pebbles got older, I was the one that she bonded with in the family. If she wasn’t already asleep somewhere else then she would watch Regina and me walk up the stairs. Regina and I would go into the bathroom to brush our teeth and get ready for bed.
When I walked out of the bathroom Pebbles would be sitting in hallway waiting for me to get in bed. If I tried to pick her up at this point she either would run back down stairs, down the hall, or behind the chair in our room.
But in a minute or two, she’d be right back at the door waiting for me to get in bed. But just getting in bed wasn’t enough. You had to lay down so that you broke eye contact with her.
Once you weren’t looking at her she would walk over and jump up on the bed—clawing up the comforter in the process. Then I would extend my arm and she would walk over to my side of the bed and give it a head nudge before turning to face the door and laying down next to me. Then I’d pet her and she would stand up and turn around to give my hand another head nudge. She couldn’t ever just sit still and be petted without getting up and head nudging back.
After a few times of doing this, I would stop petting her and she would lay there—leaning against my legs until I fell asleep. The routine was over until we would do it all over again the next night.