After my parents divorced around June 1992, when I had just turned seven, Attila remained at the house with my dad. He started killing small birds, maybe two or three of them. But a couple years later he bolted in the house with a living bird. My dad convinced Attila to release the baby bird (it was only a little hurt) and it began to fly in the house before we let it out.
I now realize Attila had avenged his sister. There used to be a family of evil birds on 1191 Payne Dr. When I was four or five birds used to attack me and try to eat my peanut butter sandwiches. They killed Brownie but Attila killed them and let the baby bird live.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Hundred and Brownie
Many of you have seen pictures of "Hundred" but that's not the name you remember him by. Most of you know him as Attila because that's what his name became. But after the death of White 99 I was still obsessed with numbers.
In early April 1990, we went up to Portola Valley to visit my mom's friend Lou who had some kittens. My brother wanted a brown cat but I insisted on an orange tabby. We ended up getting both... they were brother and sister.
Hundred (Attila) was always calmer than Brownie. I remember having cat scratches on my arms when I was 5 or 6, probably from Brownie. But once again, a cat would have a very short life. Brownie was always getting into trouble, chewing up my mom's earplugs and throwing them up.
She ended up climbing a very tall tree at our house on 1191 Payne Dr and falling down. The vet couldn't save her. Attila was now the lone pet in the house, not counting the guinea pigs. (They're another story for later.)
In early April 1990, we went up to Portola Valley to visit my mom's friend Lou who had some kittens. My brother wanted a brown cat but I insisted on an orange tabby. We ended up getting both... they were brother and sister.
Hundred (Attila) was always calmer than Brownie. I remember having cat scratches on my arms when I was 5 or 6, probably from Brownie. But once again, a cat would have a very short life. Brownie was always getting into trouble, chewing up my mom's earplugs and throwing them up.
She ended up climbing a very tall tree at our house on 1191 Payne Dr and falling down. The vet couldn't save her. Attila was now the lone pet in the house, not counting the guinea pigs. (They're another story for later.)
White 99
The first pet that I got to name was a white cat. Being a mildly autistic four-year-old, I named it "White 99" because I loved looking at atlases and named it after Highway 99, which was white on the map.
He (she? I don't remember) was a good cat. I remember being curious as to how our cockatiel, Sid (named after Sid Vicious because she looked like Sid Vicious when my mom and dad bought her years before I was born) would make weird noises when White 99 walked by. I didn't understand that Sid was threatened by the predator kitten at the time.
But sadly, White 99's time on this earth would be short. It was November 12, 1989, in Los Altos, CA. 1191 Payne Dr. I was across the street. Maybe it had rained recently (the drought finally having ended) because I remember digging in the mud with my neighbor and friend Brian. I had boogers in my nose at the time, just getting over a mild cold.
White 99 saw Brian and I digging in the mud and wanted to help us. But he/she would never make it across that street, as a car driving too fast down Payne Dr hit White 99, ending his life forever.
That is when I learned about death. I was inconsolable at first until my mom told me I would live to be 100, and then I was happy once again. But my mom was wrong. I'm going to live to be 116 and see the 22nd century!
He (she? I don't remember) was a good cat. I remember being curious as to how our cockatiel, Sid (named after Sid Vicious because she looked like Sid Vicious when my mom and dad bought her years before I was born) would make weird noises when White 99 walked by. I didn't understand that Sid was threatened by the predator kitten at the time.
But sadly, White 99's time on this earth would be short. It was November 12, 1989, in Los Altos, CA. 1191 Payne Dr. I was across the street. Maybe it had rained recently (the drought finally having ended) because I remember digging in the mud with my neighbor and friend Brian. I had boogers in my nose at the time, just getting over a mild cold.
White 99 saw Brian and I digging in the mud and wanted to help us. But he/she would never make it across that street, as a car driving too fast down Payne Dr hit White 99, ending his life forever.
That is when I learned about death. I was inconsolable at first until my mom told me I would live to be 100, and then I was happy once again. But my mom was wrong. I'm going to live to be 116 and see the 22nd century!
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