Originally Publish Spring-Summer 2020
Even as a tiny, still-nursing kitten, Baby Jay would wiggle his way out into the middle of the living room floor, onto the Texans football rug, and watch Human JJ do all sorts of brutal things on the teevee. With a fierce appetite, feline JJ started bulking up, began playing contact sports, and the rest was history.
After finding true love (the four-legged kind) on Craigslist, I went to pick up said nameless kitten. She squeaked occasionally on the ride home, but while we were crossing Buddy Holly Avenue, she started singing at the top of her lungs. I asked her if her name was Holly, she didn’t disagree, and there was never any more need to discuss the matter. Her name was clearly Holly.
By the way, she still sings, and it’s still nowhere as good as Buddy.
And finally… Puig.
Puig was a rebound kitty, to be honest. Madame Dorothy, who shepherded me through years of college, graduate school, an effort at medical school, and was ultimately the first kitty that lived with both me and the guy that I wound up marrying, died the same year I dropped out of medical school.
We lost Dorothy in the summer of 2014. We visited California, and learned of a Dodgers player named Yasiel Puig, a Cuban refugee with a harrowing story. After getting back to Texas, we found a kitty refugee (again, on Craigslist), and invited her into our home. Her first two or so years were pretty danged rough, from all available evidence, but if it’s up to us, all her pain is in the past.
These days, Puig basically runs our household–after all, I named a website after her.