On my tenth birthday, I got a surprise. What I had longed for for as long as I could remember. Kittens.

My kitten, a furry, long haired black one, I named Mustache. I named him this because of the thin white line that ran above his lips. It looked like a mustache. My mom’s kitten was black and white. My mom named her Oreo. They instantly latched onto us, and us to them.

My favorite thing to do was to feed them. I loved how they latched on, sucking, and settled against you. I remember when Stash fell asleep in my arms.

We had decided that they would be outside cats. They were outside half the time. I missed them and worried about them, but I was happy they were happy.

Last year, I found my Mustache dead on the side of the road, hit by a car. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of his mangled body. And I don’t think I’ll ever have outside cats again.

I know this was supposed to be a challenge about a special memory of you and your pets, but this is many, many memories. Of my Stashie. I love you.