We got him in September 2004 at just a few weeks old. If you don't count my first cat, Spud, who died before I turned 1, then Freddie was mine and my sister, Emma's first pet.
I still remember it like it was yesterday. Dad came to pick me and Em up from Primary School (which feels like a lifetime ago), and on the way home he said we had a big surprise waiting for us. My Mum worked nights back then so when we got home to see she was sat in the conservatory we gathered that this was our surprise. Then we heard this tiny little squeak, and my Mum lifted up this tiny black and white kitten, who meowed again and hasn't stopped meowing for 11 years.
No comment.
Dad decided he wanted to call him Freddie, after Freddie Mercury (if you don't know who that is get off my blog now and Google it). Then we decided he looked like Fred Estaire with the white paws looking like he had spats on.
After we got to know him, we eventually decided on the fact that he was definitely named after Freddie Crougar.
My sister and I thought it was ace. We tried to make obstacle courses for him but he just sat and stared at us with a blank look.
Just after the New Year, Freddie went missing whilst the rest of my family were away. I eventually found him right under the bush at the end of my garden, and it must have taken me at least 20 minutes to try and coax him out. As he ran into the house I noticed he was limping. After taking him to the vets, we found out he had been hit by a car and broken his paw. I felt incredibly guilty. The reason Freddie was out that night is because he had thrown up on the living room rug so I threw him outside.
After a month of having to stay inside wearing a pot and a cone, he's finally allowed back outside where he can go eat some lovely mice and bring them into the kitchen again.
I understand this post makes me look like a crazy cat lady, make of it what you will.
I'll probably agree with you.
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