Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A Cat Named Frisco

When my brother and I were about 12, we saved a cat from a pack of feral dogs at my granny's house.

We kind of adopted each other after that.

She was all kinds of awesome and would even come to us when we called her name. No matter where she was.

One day, my brother and I were in the kitchen of my granny's house, eating some chips and salsa.

When we hear a meowing out of the door that lead to the backyard.

When we opened the door, we saw her sitting up proudly, staring at us expectantly.

Dead mouse at her feet.

It took me five years until I was able to eat salsa. And to this day, it can't be chunky.

No comments: