ASSIGNMENTS:
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Kaitlin Ingram
Austin, Texas USA
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REPORTS:
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This is the only scar I have. I'm not sure why. It's not that I haven't taken chances, been clumsy, and generally lived dangerously. My experiences just don't seem to want to stick with me, at least in the physical sense.
The first cat I ever had gave me this scar when I was 12. My piano teacher found him when he was a few months old (I was 9 at the time); he was living in a creek and surviving on whatever small insects he could catch. We don't know what happened to his mother, but because he grew up in the wild, he learned to be vicious and angry, having experienced things most house cats never imagine.
But then there were moments when he was the sweetest animal I could imagine. He was a split personality that way - you never knew whether he was going to bite your ankles as you climbed the stairs, or settle lovingly into your lap.
This was one of his off days, and I paid for it. At first I was angry - the pain and his indifference to my suffering made me resent him.
A little while later, he was gone. He used to disappear for weeks at a time, going out on some sort of adventure, and we'd always find him evenutally, his fur matted and covered in grease.
But this time, we never found him. He never came home. And after a while, I was glad he had left me a physical reminder, proof of his existence, so that I would always remember him.
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