Kathy Rohloff:
The Gray, Fuzzy Kitten

For Valentine’s Day this year, I gave Russ a kitten named Pippin. For the past two years he’s been concerned about Ogden aging. "We need another little gray fuzzy kitten like Ogden."

"But Ogden is one of a kind. There’s no guarantee we’ll find another cat quite as good."

"I still think we need another kitty."

So it’s taken two years to wear me down. The grandsons were also instrumental in the decision since they dearly love Ogden, but because their father is highly allergic, they will probably never get the experience of having a kitten of their own.

Unbeknownst to Russ, I began calling ads but had no luck. Early in February I answered an ad and left a message stating what I was looking for and added, "Don’t even return this call unless the kitten has these features."

After I finished grocery shopping, I was pleasantly surprised to find a reply on the answering machine, "We have one kitten that is mostly gray. She looks fuzzy to me. Maybe you should come."

Elisabeth and the boys were arriving for their weekly visit shortly, and when they came, we packed into her Jeep and set off to view this phenomenal animal.

The excitement level kept increasing on our journey to the house. We trudged through the snow and upon entering we spied the mother cat and two "younguns" chasing each other around the room. We glimpsed a long-haired tabby and a sleek black fella with a white patch. No gray fuzzy anywhere.

The tabby dashed up to the boys, stopped at their feet, looked up and meowed.

It was then the owner scooped her up saying, "This is the one. She’s the friendliest of the three in the litter and my personal favorite."

"But she’s a long-haired tabby," I said.

"Yes, but she’s mostly gray and, look, her mother is all gray. Perhaps she’ll get more gray as she grows older."

Now this animal did not resemble Ogden at all. Og is totally charcoal gray with no markings and has very long silky fur. Russ specifically wanted "another cat like Ogden."

We spent time interacting with the kitten. She didn’t cry when handled and allowed both Karl and Dominic to hold her. At two, Domi tends to squeeze and she didn’t squirm to escape. She was exceptionally friendly, and the longer we looked at her, the more gray she appeared.

Elisabeth was clearly smitten and kept calling her "a little puff of smoke."

"Well, Elisabeth, what do you think?"

"I don’t think she looks like Ogden at all, but she’s got a great disposition and she’s really cute."

"But will your Dad think she’s gray enough and fuzzy enough? Or am I having a weak moment?" I queried.

Elisabeth replied, "It’s probably a weak moment. I think you should get her. Let’s ask Karl."

I looked at Karl and said, "Karl, what do you think we should do?"

With brown eyes glistening and a smile that stretched from ear to ear he said, "I think we should take her home."

So that’s what we did.

When Russ came home from work that night, he was greeted by two smiling boys clutching a brown box. "It’s for you Paacha," said Karl. "It’s a surprise."

Russ lifted the box, felt the displacement of weight, looked at me, and said, "You didn’t."

He opened the box, reached in, lifted Pippin up to examine her and said, "It’s a little gray fuzzy kitten."

"But she doesn’t look anything like Ogden," I countered.

"She has a lot of tabby markings, she’s more tabby than anything," Elisabeth added.

"Do you like it, Paacha?" Karl asked.

"Yeah, it’s a gray fuzzy kitten."