I don’t like cats.

After Ari drowned the first one under a downspout, I thought “oh that’s too bad. But hey, it’s just a cat. We can get another one for our little beanstalk. No big deal.” I did feel sorry for the poor kitty to be drowned before its time. But, I just wasn’t that attached to it. In fact, I was a wee bit relieved that I wouldn’t have to worry about my toddler innocently abusing the little critter anymore. At least it was in a better place now.

And honestly I thought we probably wouldn’t get another one for a long time.

Then a few days later, we were walking along a shopping center when we found Darlin, “the titty.” She was nestled ever so sweetly in a basket with about four more of her kind. A young girl practically handed her to us. Ari reached for her and looked at me with the most longing eyes. And next thing you know…she was in the back seat of our car. I say “she,” but to this day, I still don’t know if she was a boy or girl. Strange, I know. But at the time, I had too many other things to worry about, besides examining a cat’s underparts. It was just “the titty,” until Ari inadvertently named her “Darlin.” At that point, it was definitely a female. Whether it wanted to be, or not.

And so the saga began.

We brought Darlin home from the shopping center sidewalk, and Ari wasted no time initiating her into the family. I’d love to call it the bonding process, but in all reality, it was more like the hazing. By the end of that first week, the kitty had been dumped on her back, hung upside down, squeezed by her neck and smothered under blankets, while I gasped and rushed to the rescue, at least a hundred times.

I tried desperately to teach my little beanstalk how to handle a kitty. But before I got that accomplished, Darlin got tough and learned to hold her own.

After several weeks, she seemed to accept the fact that a clueless two-year-old was her mother, and she would just take it. There were only a few times that she would jump out of Ari’s arms and run under the bed or into a very tight space, where little girls couldn’t get to her. If things got really bad, she would bite or scratch. But only if things got REALLY bad.

One day I found her, neatly tucked inside a small lunch box. I would never have found her, had it not been for the muffled “meows” I heard, coming from that direction of Ari’s room. I don’t know about you, but a neatly clasped lunch box is not the first place I would look for a kitten. Not even two and a half years of intuition and suspicion would have led me to that discovery.

Another morning, Ari brought her inside, and then came over to our bed, and unassumingly climbed up, with kitty in hand. I was still trying to sleep, as she snuggled and pressed the kitty, against my pillow. I almost puked, until I looked over and saw Ari, with the most sincere motherly look on her face, tucking Darlin under the covers and telling her that she needed “ti-et time.” And, of course, I had to smile instead.

Without even trying, Darlin became a part of the family. We took her on trips with us, and fed her oatmeal, and cleaned up her poop, and sort of trained her to go outside. We even wiped her bottom a time or two. Yeah. I didn’t know we offered that service until I walked in on it. I found the kitty lying spread-eagle on her back, with Ari wiping her bottom, and a huge pile of “used” wipes beside her. At least, I didn’t need to worry about a poopy hind-end on my bed that day. That thing was glistening clean.

Then, a few weeks ago, we took Darlin along up to my in-laws, and in the evening, we put her outside, to sleep with Namu’s other cats. We thought she would like that, being with her fellow kinfolk. Well, apparently she liked it a little too much and they all had a “rumspringa” party. Things got a little out of hand, and next thing you know, she ran off with neighbor Tom. Or something like that.

The next morning, Ari went to the door to let her in, but Darlin wasn’t there, and I saw the saddest little face I’ve ever seen. We looked everywhere for her, and called her name numerous times that day, but she never came. We assured Ari that her “titty” was probably chasing birds somewhere and was having lots of fun.

We haven’t seen her since.

As much I don’t want to admit it, I feel a slight tinge of sadness.

And I think I might miss Darlin, the titty…just a little.