Thread:Ilovepitties123/@comment-38518755-20190606234837/@comment-38518755-20190608053358

He's 10...

On September 11, 2015 (9/11), my mom heard meowing at the front door at 5 in the morning, and when she opened the door, there was a little calico cat in our fish pond (well, fish pot it was basically a huge plant pot with water and goldfish) AND SHE WAS EATING OUR FISH. My mom fed the cat some dog food and then it followed her inside. Then my mom woke up everyone by putting the cat on everyone's bed, and then she used an app on her phone to ask everyone in the neighborhood if they had lost a cat, and two hours later she announced that we could keep the cat. By that time, the cat had started waking up the grumpy dogs, who were NOT happy (they're way bigger than her and hate other animals). So we went to the pet store and bought a bunch of cat stuff, and on the way home we realized that we didn't have a name for the cat (who we discovered was a girl). My crazy brother said Harry, Garfield, and Tom even though he knew the cat was a girl. And my mom wouldn't have Harriet, Arlene, or Toodles. Eventually we decided that since we found her on 9/11, it should be named after that. So I suggested Liberty, and my mom said it should be Libby. And now it's Libby. We found out that she already had her shots and stuff before we got her, so she must have been with someone else (we still have no idea). Oh, and she ABSOLUTELY HATES the kittens and she tries being best friends with the dogs.

Jeez, that was a long paragraph. I could have done that for English (well, it had bad grammar, but whatever).