Theodore “Toefur” Meowsevelt: A Memoir From a Cat’s Perspective

It was a very long night when my momma, Lylah decided to give birth to 5 beautiful baby kittens. On April 24th, the girl human got home from work at almost 11 0’clock at night and my momma was settled into her little box in the back of the closet. Meowing. Groaning. Whining. By the time 1 o’clock arrived I was born alongside my brothers and sister. We were nameless at the time until the humans decided what our names would be but eventually I learned that my name would be Theodore Meowsevelt. I have long hair and apparently, I’m the worst behaved one.

When we were born we couldn’t really hear or see much but we still knew where our momma was. She was always with us. From the time we were born from the moment we started walking. Lylah was no ordinary mom. She loved us unconditionally and made sure we were groomed well and fed. Every time we tried to roll away from her she would pick us up by our scruffs and pull us down for a bath.

“No, mom! Stooppp! I wanna play with my siblings!”, I’d scream and protest while she continuously pulled me back from the spot I rolled to.

“Theodore Meowsevelt, get your tiny furry butt back here!”, she’d faintly scold at me while I proceeded to protest.

No matter how much I tried to roll, momma always got me. She wouldn’t let us go further than 6 inches away from her. How ridiculous is that? I mean, we were only a couple weeks old at the time, but I still wanted my freedom.

We later learned that our mother wasn’t just a mother. She was a smother. From the time we were born until we were a couple months old. Our momma was the cat version of Beverly Goldberg.

Sooner or later, our eyes and ears started to open more. I could see blurry little blobs I could only assume were my siblings and we could hear our mom a little bit more clearly. The latter part was not very fun to say the least, considering I was always in trouble. Momma seemed to only yell at me rather than the other four.

When our eyesight was no longer blurry I could finally make out what my siblings looked like. Alistair was the oldest by a couple of seconds. He had, what looked like white eyeliner around his eyes and he had long hair like me! Winston was a little gray tabby cat who looked just like our daddy, an outdoor alley cat named Oliver. Winston was so friendly and he had a twin sister named Daisy, who was the only girl of the group. Patrick, well Patrick kind of looked like a squishy ball of fur. He had short hair and we believe he was the baby because he’s clueless most of the time.

It wasn’t long after our eyes and ears opened until we started to learn how to walk. Walking.. Well. Walking was weird. One little paw in front of the other. My siblings and I took on a new task together. All of us stumbled, some of us made it a few inches, while others (mainly Patrick) decided to stay next to mom.

“Come on Patrick, let’s go explore the world!” we would try and protest with him.

“Guys, I’m so comfortable. I don’t wanna leave mom.”, he’d say while proceeding to get groomed, yet again, by momma.

Patrick would not budge. He was just a squishy ball of laziness. So, we just left him to his naps and over-bathing tendencies.

A couple weeks went by before we learned how to jump. We were on the girl humans bed when we were only a couple months old! It was so high up there. Sometimes we would just sleep up there and take up the girl humans leg room. It was fun and sooo much more comfortable than the floor my momma had us sleep on.

At 6 months old, my siblings started to disappear! It was the craziest thing.

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