Mr. Rosie

My first real pet was a grey and black cat named Rosie Christina Folkes.  I didn’t even know I was getting it until I came home from school one day and heard an odd sound from the laundry room. I asked my mom what it was and with a grin on her face she said, “I don’t know, go see for yourself.”  I wasn’t sure what I had heard. I thought it was a bird sound at first, but then I walked into the room and this adorable little kitten came running at me.

My mom had gotten it from my babysitter, and had her pick out a female because she knew that’s what I’d want. I think I named her Rosie because liked roses, which would make since because I still like them and how they smell.  Her middle name, Christina, came from my obsession with the singer Christina Aguilera, and her last name from mine, of course.

I don’t remember how much time passed, but a while after we got her, and she was already grown, she started getting into fights with other animals and would come back  injured some nights. We decided to take her to the vet to get looked at, and while we were there we told them we wanted to get her spade.

Well, as it turns out Rosie is a Mr. Rosie. He didn’t need to be spade, but instead neutered. The vet got a laugh out of it, and is the one who suggested calling him Mr. Rosie, and so we did. It worked out quite well, he still knew his name and it made for an interesting conversation every time someone new heard him called that.

He was a fun cat though he slept a lot. We had a wall heater in our living room and he would lay on his back with all fours spread and sleep. He was a fat cat, one of the biggest I’ve ever seen. He would also climb the tree in my backyard with me; I would be up in the tree and sometime if he saw me he would come join. When we moved we had to leave him, but the family who bought our house took him and had a daughter who loved cats, so it all worked out.