Day 1: How I Met Hank, My Favorite Feline Friend

A few hours ago, I taped a picture of a waterfall to my bedroom door. That is my Tears Ahead warning sign for Hank that I am going to tell a story that makes us both weep.

While I did three knee bends and four toe touches to calm down, Hank retrieved floral boxes of tissue and stacked them around us in the shape of a fortress. Yes, it is a tight squeeze.

I met Hank the day I moved into my condo. No, he wasn't the cable television installer cat or a neighbor welcoming me with baked goods; he was much better!

Moving into my condo was life-changing for me in so many ways. A realtor assured me that condo living would be perfect for me because it meant guaranteed friendship, and I know a realtor wouldn't lie.

I was a pinch nervous about living alone for the first time in my adult life. Coral, my true blue friend and a party girl to the max, suggested that I throw a housewarming party.

After I settled into my condo, I zoomed down Main Street and ran through the town of Lipstick, inviting people to my party. The Cotton Barn (my favorite store on Main Street) had delivered a brand new fairytale-themed bunk bed to me that morning. Beds stacked on top of each other are the perfect sleepover invention; therefore, I just needed some friends who would want to occupy the top bunk. (I'm afraid of heights.) A successful party would surely cure my loneliness.

While waiting for guests to arrive, Gregg Starr, the town reporter, blasted on my mega 13-inch television with breaking news. A cat fight had broken out at the tavern, and one waitress had been scratched on the shoulder in the altercation.  The injured waitress was my Coral.

If Coral had been wearing a sweater over her tube top (tsk tsk) like I suggested earlier in the day, she may not have been injured. I believe her words to me were, "Sweaters don't get tips." My pleas for Coral to wear sweaters to avoid ailments and injury always fall on deaf ears.

Back to the emergency at hand. I zoomed one mile over the speed limit on my scooter to reach Coral. Upon arriving at the scene of the emergency, I was able to quickly apply four animal print Band-Aids and mega healing ointment on Coral's minor scratch thanks to my first-aid themed fanny pack.

After Coral stopped me from applying a fifth Band-Aid, she mentioned the word overkill, she let me in on a secret. Apparently, Coral had planned the entire cat altercation to get off work early so she could attend my party. What a true-blue friend! Especially since I know Coral needed to work that night as her dating funds were getting low.

Before we could go to my new condo and line dance to our hearts' content, we had to stop at The Hanky Doodle Cat Agency so Coral could pay the owner of the agency the cat rental fee. Silly me, I thought the only cats you could rent were in a glorious Broadway musical.

Even though I was born and raised in Lipstick, I did not know about the agency because it was down an alley off Main Street. I had never ventured down the dark alley before, but Coral kept me safe. She also pointed out the backside of a dumpster where she and a date had kissed. Oh, that Coral.

Hank just poked me with a banana clip and said that the readers have had enough of this Coral story. He would like his time in the spotlight.

Since he helps me run this blog, I will let him have his chance at fame.

Upon entering the dimly lit Hanky Doodle Agency, my eyes adjusted and saw a handsome white cat in a bowtie, (he just asked how handsome)- as handsome as a horse on a rainbow, flipping through jazz albums.

Hank stuck out his paw to shake my hand. The conversation went like this:

Hank: Hank Kerchief at your service. How may I help you?

Pritty: My friend owes you money.

Coral: But I don't have any.

Hank pointed to a poster showing Line Dance Lessons for $10. He began to pace back and forth.

(He told me I can leave the next part out; he doesn't like people to see his dark side.)

Hank: Oh, I needed that money to attend my line dance lessons. Not that I ever get to attend them because I am always here, day and night, finding homes for every cat in town. No one ever offers to take me home, though. My refined tastes, expensive hobbies, and love of musicals are too much for everyone in this tasteless town.

Hank banged his paw on the counter. I was not deterred by his outburst.

Hank: Oh, sorry. Did I overshare?

Pritty: Mr. Hank? How do you feel about bunk beds?

Hank: I am purrfectly okay with a top bunk, especially if it has silk bedding.

Pritty: Mr. Hank?

Hank: Please, call me Hank.

I held up a scrunchie from my fanny pack.

Pritty: How do you feel about accessories?

Hank: I have never met a bow tie I didn’t like. Except for fur bow ties, those are weird.

I handed Hank an invitation.

Pritty: Hank, how would you like to be my forever sleepover guest?

Hank teared up. (and we are both sobbing now as I type this.)

Hank: I am often not at a loss for words.

Coral: Neither is she.

Hank: But I think my prayers have been answered. I always thought cat ladies were a mythical creature.

Hank pointed to a poster of MYTHICAL CREATURES behind him.

Hank: Well, heck, in handy, I may have found one.

Pritty: Heck, in handy, what beautiful words. I bought this paw watch years ago, and now I have a cat to wear it.

I handed Hank a paw watch, and he tossed his family finder DNA kit in the trash.

Hank: And I wanted a family years ago, and now I have one.

Our fortress floor is now a mess of crumpled soft tears as we recall that special evening. Coral would tell us to quit boo hooing so that is what we are going to do. Hank is setting up my spotlight as I type, so we can have a fashion show.

After I adopted Hank, the three of us went back to my condo and danced the night away. Hank unpacked his painting easel and made himself at home.

Was my loneliness cured? I will reveal how many people showed up to my party and reveal some housewarming party tips next time!

Heck, in handy, writing my thoughts on this computer is fun.

Over and out, have a fashion show and shout.

Hugs and kisses, Pritty and Hank