About a month ago, I drove down to Bellaire to meet my drug dealer  um, I mean, for whatever reason I forget now, and I stopped by the gas station. I heard this croaking noise coming from one lady. I assumed it was her phone. But then it moved to the person in front of me. And then back to the lady. And that’s when I saw this tiny black kitten.

My first reaction was, aw. Oh well.

I hoped that it belonged to the lady, or that she would pick it up. But then I heard the croaking noise again, and this time I saw it sitting under a parked car’s rear tire, looking around hopefully. A man came out of the store and got into the car, but luckily he was talking on his phone instead of driving and backing out!

I decided if I didn’t grab the kitten now it’d just get run over in the next half hour or so.  So I took a box from the back of my car and walked up to it. It was cute, all black and tinier than any kitten I’ve seen. It hid behind a trash can when it saw me, but I was able to finally grab, gently, and put it in my car. The lady it had originally been croaking at was watching us and smiled.

(When I was a kid, I had found a purse full of money and returned it.  I didn’t realize it, but a black lady at the store had been watching me and smiled when I did so. Since then, I’ve assumed my guardian angel was a black lady. This moment brought a sense of deja vu, all 28 years later).

Kitten didn’t stay in the box well so I put her on the floor of my car. There she pooped. Then she began to climb all around the car as I drove, including pawing at my head.

I met up with my drug dealer and then went to Ginnie’s house, since I knew she had a soft heart for all things homeless. Cats, people, sea anenomes, you name it. Also I wasn’t sure how my allergies would hold up with the kitten.

We got the cat bottles of milk since it was so tiny, and some canned food. At her place it jumped on the couch and started to poop as it did. I think it was so young it couldn’t control it.

We discussed names. It was agreed that I am bad at naming things. I forget the suggestions I had but they were all shot down quickly.  Gin wanted something cultural. It was all black, like an big fuzzy eyebrow I thought, and so I said Frieda. Gin didn’t like that but she said ‘what about Kahlo?’ this seemed perfect. I did not tell ginnie I thought the kitten looked like a unibrow.

The kitten did its weird croaking noise. I said, you’re more like a frog. maybe we should call you Froggy. Gin said that was pretty fitting. Then she said Frieda Kahlo…Froggy Kahlo!

And thus, Froggy Kahlo was named.

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Published in: on September 17, 2014 at 1:15 pm  Leave a Comment  

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