September 22, 2007
As the day got closer, my mom ramped my birthday. “Do you want a Sally Suzy doll?” “Do you need socks?” How could I tell her I had everything I wanted? Everything in the kitten, in his big belly, in his pounce, in his curling tail and direct nature. Mom named the calico Pumpernickel and kept asking me what I’d name my kitten. “Smokey? Ash? Pussywillow?” I named him Battleship. He took to sitting on my shoulder like how I imagined a gun would, resting there waiting to attack. And he did. Once I walked by Dad and Battleship jumped.