The Story of Thumper, or Peter, or Baby Cat, or Whatever You Want to Call Him
My girlfriend and I lived in an apartment in Virginia for about a year.
For the first couple months we were there, her middle daughter
and her boyfriend lived with us.
One day, the boyfriend
brought home a kitten he'd found behind the Italian restaurant
he worked at.
The furry little fellow was white with gray splotches
and a pink nose.
About a month later, the daughter and boyfriend moved
to Edenton, North Carolina, to live with the boyfriend's grandparents.
The cat went with them.
They lived there for a couple months
until the boyfriend went to jail (for various offenses).
The daughter then came back to live with us,
bringing the cat with her.
To her, he had become known as Baby cat.
Soon, however, the daughter moved out again,
this time leaving the cat behind.
In the ensuing months, that cat, who I dubbed
as Thumper because of his big, rabbit-like feet,
developed a strong bond with me.
I cradled him in my arms and talked to him
while he just looked at me and purred.
I sang to him and he meowed back.
He slept with us every night
and became one of the most loving cats I’d ever known.
Then, about seven months later,
my girlfriend and I had to move out of the apartment
and into my mother’s house.
Considering the amount of pets already there,
we could not take Thumper with us.
The daughter, because of where she was living,
couldn’t take him either, so my girlfriend’s oldest daughter
volunteered to watch after him.
the oldest daughter lived out in the country,
two houses down from my previous girlfriend.
After a month or so, the oldest daughter ended up moving
to Alabama. She left her sister, the youngest daughter
of my girlfriend’s three, her house and responsibility over Mr. Thumper Bumper.
Within two weeks, the youngest daughter’s “carelessness” resulted
in the disappearance of the cat.
With woods and fields surrounding the area, he could have gone anywhere.
A month passed by and there was still no sign of Thumper.
Then one day I was riding down Jefferson in Newport News
and I received a random text from my ex-girlfriend that lived near the youngest daughter.
It was a multimedia message.
It was a picture of a white cat,
curled up in an old blue recliner I remember so well.
Accompanying the picture was a written message:
“This is our new cat. He wandered up here a month ago.”
I’ll admit it took me about two minutes for it to even click
but when it did it damn near knocked me out the passenger door.
I knew, without a drop of doubt, that it was Thumper.
I told her the story and, as usual, her stubborn ass wouldn’t believe it.
She ultimately accepted my claim, however, and informed me that his name was now Peter.
Who was I to argue?
She had the cat now and none of us could take care of him anyway.
What blows my mind about it all are the odds.
I mean who could’ve known that that cat would
wind up with my current girlfriend and me in the city
(by chance) end up at my ex-girlfriend’s house in the country?
There must be more to this than coincidence.
Maybe it means something,
Like some links just aren’t meant to be broken.