Not to sound like a crazy cat person (but I probably will, so brace yourself), but Coco was a great cat.. and he was my boy.
It all started at a karaoke show I was running at a biker bar on the east side many years ago. There was this little stray kitten that the bartender brought in and was showing around to everyone. She was feeding him balogna and everybody thought he was really cute, but nobody would take him. As for me- Carole and I already had a cat, and lived in an apartment, so I had no intention of taking him home- but it's funny how fate steps in and forces his hand sometimes..
Later that night, as I was loading up the equipment, I heard a squeaking sound coming from a vacant warehouse next door to the bar. I went over to investigate and there he was, the kitten from the bar- skinny, scraggly and burs in his matted fur. Of course I couldn't just let him suffer, so I scooped him up and took him home.
When I got there, I wasn't sure what to do.. I knew Carole would be OK with the new addition, but introducing a new kitten into a environment that already has a cat can be tricky to say the least. I didn't want him to be scared of the older (and bitchier) cat of the house, so I spent the night with him in the bathroom.. on the floor.. him curled up on my neck. The next day, I was a little stiff from sleeping on the floor, but I had a devoted friend.
Once we cleaned him up, although he was still a scrawny little shit, we could see that his dark fur had a distinct brownish color in the sunlight.. so Coco was his given name.
As he matured, he really turned into a beautiful cat.. much different than the scruffy little runt that I brought home that night. Cats, by nature, are pretty independent and aloof, but unlike so many others of his kind, he was driven completely by love. Don't get me wrong, he never missed a meal- but nothing made him happier than some lap time and a scratch on the head.
Goodbye buddy.. I'll miss you