Hello, my name is Bobby.

Finally, my turn has arrived to tell you my fascinating life!  I’m the oldest and wisest of the litter. I was born very far away from here, in a luxurious penthouse in Manhattan. My former owner was the loyal friend of an old singer who was famous in Las Vegas for singing and dancing “the can-can” in the Fifties.

My father was “Nine-Lives Rodríguez”, a gangster devoted to cat-nip trafficking. He was the king of the underworld in New York City. The female cats were besotted with him. He fell in love with my mom at first sight, when he saw her stepping down from the limousine of her owner, the singer Mimi Ferguson.

My mommy was an arrogant Persian feline, well–coiffed and wearing a small rose heart-shaped diamond. Dad went crazy for her immediately, for her curled long eyelashes and her flirtatious walk. He lost his appetite and almost his head and didn’t give up until he discovered where my mom lived. All his comrades followed him in his search. From the chimneys and roofs, they looked and looked for her till they found her.

Dad was a gray alley cat, he lacked glamour, but what he lacked in pedigree he made up for in panache and self-confidence. He started his brave quest of seduction for my mom that soon bore fruit. Mom felt in love with him and had a litter of five.

Mimi, my mom’s owner, was very upset when she learned of her pregnancy, but she loved so much the princess Morgana that after scolding her she forgave her immediately and took her to the vet for her prenatal care. However, mom was isolated in her penthouse and couldn’t go strolling on the roofs under the full moonlight, nor could she see my dad anymore.

When I and my four brothers were born, I was separated for them as soon as my mom weaned me because I did not inherit her Persian blood. I was an ordinary gray cat like dad. Mimi Ferguson was a fancy lady and had no room for non-pedigree cats in her mansion.

So she put me in a basket and abandoned me in the hotel parking lot near Syracuse University, where I was found by Bettubela.

One day in the parking lot, I was curious and emerged from my refuge. All of the sudden, I saw hordes of people, cars, and bicycles, and I was so scared that I didn’t know where to run. In that instant, I heard a female voice calling me “Kitty, tonchi, michi.” Her voice gave me some confidence and I allowed her to carry me, but she didn’t allow me to return to my basket where I felt secure.

There was a fight between the two of us, and she won because I was just a little kitty. She brought me to her car and the roar of the car frightened me so much that I tried to escape.

We arrived at Bettu’s house and four Siamese cats greeted me with hissing and growling. All I wanted at that moment was to escape. I was so scared that I hid for hours in the basement while Bettu looked and looked for me.  Since hunger is so overwhelming, I came out of my refuge in order to satisfy my growling stomach. The food was delicious. Bettu was next to me and with her hugs and caresses made me feel much better.

It took me some time to get used to my new home. Moreover, those four Siamese cats made my life miserable. I started to mark my territory with my pee, as my species does.

I never imagined that this behavior would bring me a mortal enemy. Bettu’s husband became that enemy. Her husband said that if I didn’t fix my behavior, they would give me away to someone else, or put me to sleep. Every time he looked at me, it was as if the devil was gazing at me. His stare inspired so much fear that I only wanted to mark my territory more and more. Sometimes it’s hard to understand humans. Bettu tried to calm her husband, asking for his patience and assuring him that all this would change once the Siamese accepted me as part of the family.

Unfortunately, as I was trying to adapt, Bettu disappeared for eight days. She mentioned that he was going to Mexico. I didn’t have the slightest idea what or where that was. What I feared was that without her around, her husband was going to give me away, kill me, or cook me in the oven like a dessert. Or that the Siamese cats were going to throw me in sack and toss me down the stairs. For my protection, I hid in the attic until Bettu came back.

In the attic, I found an exit to the backyard, where I was able to hunt for birds. But it was hard because I was just a kitty. Later, I discovered that Dan, Bettu’s son, put out some food for me in case I came back.

The whole family thought I escaped or that I got lost. When Bettu returned from her trip the first thing that she did was look for me. Her husband said it was futile because I disappeared a long time ago. But Bettu didn’t give up and continued her search. Finally, she opened the attic door and I emerged, happy to hug her with my four legs and let her know that I was alive and well.

Everyone was so surprised that I “survived” without food for eight days. I whispered to Bettu my secret and showed her the hole in the attic to the backyard. Since that day, Bettu’s husband has taken a liking towards me and stopped with the scary gestures that made me pee and mark my territory.

The Siamese cats have gone to cat heaven. I now share my life with twelve new felines. They respect my territory even though they are noisy and pretentious and, very often, they disturb my long naps.

In the mornings, we all go to the backyard to chase squirrels and rabbits. I don’t go outside anymore because I once saw a coyote and he can eat me. Time doesn’t pass in vain. As you can see, I have led a happy life and I am aging peacefully in the company of Bettubela and my feline friends. Now Morito is dying to tell you his story, so here he is with his meows.