The Paw that Started It
Katelyn. Age 13. Doylestown, PA
I stared through the glass, happiness bubbling
inside me. The orange eyes stared right back. “Meow!” spoke his mouth.
Soft and sweet. The mellifluous sound washed over me, the sound I would
never forget. And he would never let me forget. The sweet cat put his
paw through the hole in the glass case as if he were selling himself.
Pick Me! Pick Me! I reached out to touch the paw, and I could hear
purring from beyond the wall of glass. I had never met such a benevolent
cat. I shifted my gaze to the paper messily put on the cage, wrinkled
and crooked. “Dorito,” it said. Four months old. Good with other
animals. Smiling, overflowing with joy, I spun and rushed from the room,
coming back thirty seconds later with my mom. The cat once more said,
“Meow!” and placed his paw on the glass, purring and saying “Hi.” I felt
a smile spreading across my face. Dorito—yes, like the chip—was the name
of this creature, and I knew I could never leave him here. I turned to
my mom, my smile bright, hope inside me. Then she said it. The words I
did not want to hear. “I don’t know if we can handle him.” In a second,
emotions plagued me, sadness, anger, then sadness again, then
determination. I would prove I could take care of this cat.
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