My Baby Dumplin

Dumplin and I found each other in September of 1997. I was going into Wal-Mart and saw this woman sitting out front with a big basket on a table next to her. Inside were 3 tiny kittens, 2 brothers and a sister, all jet black with green eyes and ribbons tied around their necks. This woman had found these little darlings in her yard when they were 2 wks old; their mother had been hit by a car. She took them in and raised them until they were 8 wks old, then decided to give them away. I said to Lisa, "Let's look at the kittens." Now, for me, who'd never had a pet before, and wasn't really looking for one, this was completely out of character. But over we went. As soon as I stepped up to the basket, this one kitten came straight over to me, put his front paws on the rim, and looked at me like, "You finally made it! Let's go home, Momma." When I picked him up, he immediately walked partway up my arm, being very quiet but acting comfortable with me. After I'd put him back in the basket, he wouldn't let anyone else pick him up; he'd fuss, hiss, and try to claw them. But with me, he was a little angel.

And so began Life with Dumplin.

He was adorable. He captured my heart right then, and he never let it go. I mean, come on, how could you resist this face?

He was so small, all four feet fit on my ankle.

I found out early on that Dumplin liked to "talk". Every time he went to the back of the apt, he'd meow as if to say "Hello! I'm in here!" So I started calling "Hello!" back to him each time. Pretty soon he started saying "Ma-rayw!" whenever I was out of his sight. It became a game for us in short time. Over the years, Dumplin also fashioned his own versions of "Momma/Mommy", "no", "Rain", and "all right?"

Then there were the acrobatics. He loved to jump to reach his toys that hung from the top of closet doors: 6 feet or more straight up from the floor. As he came down, he would twist in mid-air like Shamu at Sea World and land perfectly on his feet.

And he grew. Oh boy did he grow. The tiny, runt-of-the-litter furball turned into Catzilla almost overnight, it seemed. In 6 months' time, he went from that little cutie up there to this:

Quite a difference, yeah? At his very heaviest, he hit 16 lbs. (Dr Cindy said then that there was too much Dumplin, so he whittled down to 12 lbs.)

About this time I noticed his fur had become glossy, like patent leather, and that he moved like a black panther. Turns out he was part Bombay, an unusual breed to find as a stray.

Dumplin was smarter than the average cat; you could tell him something, and he would respond appropriately, either in actions or in vocalizations. I talked to him like he was another person.

Maybe he was.

And maybe I'm a fool for thinking this, but I believe I'll find him again. He was too stubborn and full of life to stay gone once he left. I'm gonna start looking; I'll know when I find him.

Missing you, baby Dumplin.

xo Momma