Mischief and Rascal (sister and brother) were our first and only pets (excluding fish). Two kittens that we picked out, adored, and loved for seven years.
Mischief was a skittish black calico. Girly and fickle, but if you caught her at the right moments, she was yours. Whenever I was sick, she would camp out on my bed. Her tiny body would press up against my blanket-covered legs until I was better. Rascal was a big fat orange tabby cat. Handsome, with a prominent male swagger. He usually ate Mischief's food, in addition to his own, so was double her size. Sometimes at night, he'd refuse to come in, and you'd see a big fat orange blob sitting contently in the backyard - just staring at you. We'd try everything to beckon him in. He'd just raise his whiskered eyebrows. "Eh...come get me, sucka" And so one of us would wade through the dew covered grass and carry his blobbish figure into the house. At one point....he even taught himself how to use the toilet (though not the flushing part...which lead to much controversy) A talented, kinda gross habit, which he strangely outgrew after a week.
Calico Queen and Tabby King -they owned our place and knew it.
To feed our (our = my sister and I) obsession with Mischief and Rascal, my family used to make a monthly trip to New Hope, about an hour away, to visit Meow, Meow.
Meow, Meow was/and is an unbelievabl-y darling place to stock up on cat schwag: cute cat plates, fake mice, cat mobiles, cat doorknobs, cat socks, scratching posts...etc..etc.. Meow Meow carried everything that one could possible want or need for one's cat....or not want and need, but would buy anyway - cause there was a big cat on it.
Mischief and Rascal could have cared less about the toys or scratching posts, that we used to buy for them. They much preferred our shoelaces to play with than the fake mice and scratched the couch rather than their scratching posts, but it was fun nontheless to shop at Meow, Meow.
It served our desire to show our love for them in some sort of tangible way (when we weren't torturing them by dressing them up in stuffy renaissance doll clothes) and allowed us to bask in our newfound obsession with everything "cat" ish.
Unfortunately, we had to give both Mischief and Rascal away when we moved to Japan (we didn't want them to go through quarantine). We were devastated, as we piled up all of their cat toys into the back seat of our car. But it had to be done.
Since that horrible day, we have yet to return to Meow, Meow.
But Meow, Meow continues to go strong. Catering to cat lovers since 1988. read more
