Hi I’m Rambo.
I was born in a litter of five kitties: two males and three females. My mom is Nova Naranjas and I inherited from her this beautiful golden and fluffy coat.
My dad’s name is Moro because he has the color of a Cuban dish called “Moros y Cristianos”. Bettu, my new mom, says that this meal is prepared with black beans and rice. I doubt that I would like this dish.
Bettu is very creative, naming us after such famous actors, writers, politicians, philosophers, etc. For instance, my siblings and I arrived at her backyard when Barack Obama’s presidential campaign was underway. For this reason, I have one sister named Hillary, another named Rudy and another named Fred. And my brother’s name is Johnny Mecano.
Initially, she named me Penelope, as the faithful wife of the hero Ulysses, who waited for many years weaving endlessly as many aspiring suitors asked for her hand. Bettu thought that this name was perfect because I’m so gorgeous, but when she realized my masculinity she named Rambo. She said that this was the perfect name for my Herculean look.
My siblings and I were born in the country under a beautiful full moon, protected by the whisper of trees. A talkative squirrel was our godmother and a wise owl, Otto, entertained us with stories and warned us when we were in danger.
Whenever we were in danger, my mom picked us up by the neck and hid us in the hole of a big thick tree. Here we hugged each other and waited quietly for my mom’s order to come out.
When we were two months old, our mom Naranjas took us for a walk to Bettu’s garden on a beautiful summer day.
We followed her in line like good soldiers. Bettu’s generosity and love for felines is a legend in the countryside. My mom took us to her knowing that this was the best for her litter.
Mom informed us that it was time to be weaned since we began to grow teeth. She mentioned that it was time to start hunting and trying different foods. These were the reasons she brought us to Bettu.
When we arrived in her backyard, Bettu was lying in the sun, reading the newspaper. Suddenly, she noticed our arrival. Her reaction frightened us. She stood up and ran into her house, calling, “Kitties, kitties, here is some food for you.” We ran into the nearby bushes. When we saw that Mom wasn’t scared, we felt such relief.
When Bettu went back into the house, my siblings and I ran to the tasty food, eating voraciously. Bettu then came out with a strange device. Mom said that she was taking pictures of us.
That memorable summer, my family lived with great happiness, meeting new friends, learning how to hunt and enjoying the delicious dishes from Bettu that always arrived punctually in our tummies.
One cold day, we saw something white and fluffy descend from the sky. We tried to play with it and grasp it with our claws. But it disappeared very fast.
Bettu told us that from then on her home would be our new refuge. We didn’t argue with her and went inside.
As we entered this warm and cozy place, three gray cats defended their property, hissing at us ferociously.
With time, we all managed to get along, though sometimes we scratched and fought for the narcotic herb that Bettu plants in her garden.
We still go into the backyard when the weather is nice. Bettu makes sure that we all come back safe and sound at dinnertime.
She says to watch out for a coyote that the neighbors once saw in the area. It might be true because my brother Fred never returned home one night. I’m not worried though, since I’m sure he is having a great time in cat heaven.
Mom and Dad didn’t want to join us in Bettu’s home. Bettú says that they are feral cats and always have lived in the forest. For this reason, they will never get used to living at Bettu’s. I don’t agree with Bettu. I am the son of feral cats and was born in the forest, yet I still enjoy Bettu’s pampering and caresses. She says she adores me because I’m her first orange feline, luminous like the sun; I agree with her. Now it’s Bobby’s turn, the monarch of the house.