The Story Of Cadabra
Hello, it’s everyone’s favorite twin Cadabra. I was born July 29, 2016, the same day as my scrawny little sister. Since birth it has been my duty to protect her. We were born in the shelter. Abra, my sister, was happy there. She didn’t know any better, probably because she has the brain of a walnut. But I had seen things. Cats that I knew that didn’t get adopted would sometimes go missing after a while.
I knew my sister and I could not live at the shelter forever. Nevertheless, all our siblings had been chosen and adopted by Halloween. We were left behind on account of humans believing we black cats are bad luck.
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Luckily, a few days before Christmas, a couple came to visit the shelter. The male was very excited to see us and just fascinated by us. He was accompanied by a female who only seemed to notice the big, orange paws of the old cat that would scream its head off. So many people had looked at us and then walked on by, that I didn’t really have much hope that we would be adopted. I turned my attention to what I know best, and that is eating. I love food; it is such a comfort to me. Food does not disappoint me or leave me. Just as I was swallowing my second bite, our cage door opened. I must have looked awfully cute eating my kibble, because the man chose me! Before I would agree to go home with him, however, I had to make sure my sister was going, too.
I was prepared to hiss and bite if the couple left her behind, but they picked her up as well. That was such a relief to me.
Before we left, the humans thought it would be a good idea to let us see our mother one last time. I am not a fan of her, because she was the reason we were caged at the shelter in the first place. I hissed at her. My sister imitated me because she always does what I do. We really let our old lady have it.
Speaking of old ladies, when we got to the car, I noticed the humans had also adopted the old screaming cat that the woman had been watching. They kept saying her name, Sabrina, but she just cried – and she cries loudly. Please make her shut up, I thought. The man opened Sabrina’s cage and held her for the car ride.
“What a big baby,” I snickered. Of course, my sister followed my lead and chimed in with “Yeah, what a diva.”
When we got to the new house and they opened our cage, it was go time. I wanted to investigate everything immediately, especially the food options, but there were already three cats there before us. I could tell by the smells of the house that they had been there for a while. I wasn’t worried they would bother me, but I was afraid they would jump my sister. I stayed close beside her to keep that from happening, so exploring would have to be done on her schedule.
Missy was obviously the home cats’ leader, and Joey was the enforcer. Strangely, whenever she attacks, she calls herself JoJo. Also she talks to herself like there are two cats in there. Then there was Aria. I liked her from the beginning; she was kind to me and my sister.
The best part about this house is that there is always food down for us. I was so worried that this was going to be one of those scheduled- feeding- time homes. The only time we have to follow a schedule is when Missy is eating. My sister and I are not allowed to eat while she is eating, but then again, NOBODY is allowed to eat when Missy is eating.
After a short time, Missy and Joey grew bored with Abra and me, and they started pestering Sabrina. “Not our problem; we do not owe her anything,” I told my sister. I mean, what had that old cat ever done for us?
You know, it’s funny: when we got there, we were more worried about the other cats than we were about the dog they call Maggie. I used to watch the canines at the shelter. They seemed really simple minded, and they always just wanted to impress the humans. They didn’t seem to get that it is the humans’ place to impress us, not the other way around. The orange dog who lives with us is a typical people pleaser, but she is mostly kind to us – unless we forget to share our food with her or we try to eat her food; then she barks at us.
We were just getting used to the dog and the Original Trio of cats, when Mom and Dad brought us another family member. He was a cat they called Buddy, and he seemed nice. He was laid back and super lazy, and he had a pretty coat. But then I saw him picking on my sister, so now I do not like him.
Before we could settle down from Buddy, Mom and Dad brought home yet another cat. This one was named Taco, and he was a black cat like Abra and me. The Original Trio was obviously getting tired of having to accommodate new cats because, instead of welcoming Taco, they hissed at him. I hissed at them. “There is no reason to be mean to the new cat,” I proclaimed. Plus, my sister really liked him. So it became my job to protect him, too, since he seemed scared of everything – even the silly, people-pleasing dog.
Within a few short months, Mom and Dad had brought home still another cat. They called him Thomas. I really don’t know why Mom and Dad thought it was a good idea to have so many of us, but I liked the new guy right away. Thomas was different from most cats: he did not want to control anything. He liked to clean, and he was an overall goofy character. Also, he was another black cat, so it is a good thing Mom and Dad aren’t superstitious. I went over to Thomas, laid down beside him, and asked if he would clean me. He obliged without a word. Now I don’t even have to ask; all I do is lie beside him and he starts to clean. It is a good arrangement.
Now, as the years have passed, some may say my love for food has caused me to gain some weight. It is barely noticeable if you ask me, but my dad says I look like a small cow and has taken to calling me Moo Moo. I know my name is Cadabra, but when Dad says Moo Moo, I know it is me he is talking about. I don’t mind. My human brother calls me Chunky Cat, which doesn’t sound as cute, but I still love him and will grace him with my presence for that name as well.
I love my family and I know they love me, too. Over the last four years, I have claimed the middle of the bed as mine. Mom and Dad even gave me my own pillow there. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. Also, I love all the wonderful attention I get, and all the delicious food my family puts out for us. I have grown to love all of my siblings, too – even bossy Missy, crazy Joey, and mouth-breathing Maggie.
Your next read is The Story Of Buddy.
