I know right? I was an old-lady-in-training even then. I asked for cats for my birthday. For my 17th birthday.
Crystal and Pippin.
Or, as they were dubbed by my mother, White Cat and Other Cat. Those are the names they have on file at the vet. And what everyone called them.
Except that Crystal (White Cat) didn't last a terribly long time. We live in the backwoods-country-forest, so it's not like I had a cat get sick and die. She just....ceased to be. Maybe being white wasn't good for an outdoor cat in the mountains, or maybe she found another home, or maybe who knows. But Crystal was only around for 3 or 4 years and then she wasn't.
So it was just Pippin.
Or just Other Cat.
It's one thing to be called Other Cat, and quite another to be called Other Cat with no point of reference.
So my mom started calling him Pippin, and it took a couple years, but eventually everyone else followed suit.
Pippin is freakishly large:
Pictured here with a baby, provided for scale.
He's over 20lbs and none of it is fat, he's this muscular hunting outdoor creature.
And then he's fluffy, which makes him seem even bigger.
Which makes coming across him outside in the night sort of terrifying.
He's also incredibly snuggly.
My cat will spoon with you and purr loudly and he's hardly ever standoffish at all. Considering his outside cat nature, that's pretty rare.
He also lets kids sit on him and whatnot.
He's always lived at my parents' house as opposed to moving around with me, but he's still my cat.
And he's rad.
And I like him.
Just thought I'd share.