My mom was never an animal person. When I was younger and my friends would talk about their dirty companies such as hamsters, dogs, and guinea pigs, I would reply with, "I have a blue fish." It wasn't exactly a pet that I could brag to all my second-grade friends too. She lived a good life though, rest in peace Sparkles.
After the funeral of my fish, I vegged my mom to let me get a pet. But, she's a hard one to budge. So, I started working at shelters and taking care of my neighbor's pets when she went away in order to be closer to animals. One day I got a call from our neighbor who told me to come to take a look at what she found. When I got to her house she showed me threw palm size kittens.
Once my mom got home from school I showed her the kittens and she immediately fell in love...but she was also allergic and was reluctant to keep them. After a few weeks of her face being puffy and a sniffly nose, somehow her body adapted and she was able to be by the kittens without a reaction. I got insanely excited and asked if I could take care of until we found them a home. She said yes and I made them little beds and cleaned them up in a tub because they were dirty. My brothers and I each named one: Tigger, Fluffy, and Scruffles.
They're now 7 years old and really fat. But they're really happy and loving cats. Tigger would sleep at the end of my bed every night during high school and still does when I'm home from college. I was always afraid that if left home they would forget me, but they still all run to the door when I'm off of school.
