Coco

Coco was my first real cat. From my memory, which again seems dream-like, she was a stray that walked into our trailer park home and I convinced my parents to let stay. She had kittens. I remember telling friends that Coco had 15 kittens in three litters. I thought that was unique. Now I know what it really meant was she got pregnant three times because she had been allowed to go in and out without being spayed. (Sacrilige is what I know that to be now!)
I remember us standing at the grocery store entrance/exit with her kittens to give them away. Man, did I detest when I saw that as a young adult! But, my only exemption is that I was six or seven years of age and didn't know better AND had no control of anything at that time.
Coco moved with us to the apartment, then again when we moved back to Dayton. We were going to bring one of her kittens with us to Dayton (Patches, a sand-colored kitty), but I believe he got hit by a car and killed before our move. Another example of why cats should not be allowed to run loose. When we got to our house in Dayton, Coco never was allowed to run loose again.
We did finally get Coco spayed. I seem to remember her having a bandage on her belly. When removing it, I remember being shocked (literally, with a spark). In my child's mind, I thought something like electrodes were put in her that made her spayed.
I called Coco a Calico cat. What I found out years later was that she was actually a Tortie.
I remember her being mild-mannered. Never remember her getting too upset or excited about anything. Like with most pets of little kids, my mom took care of all of her basic needs. I don't remember feeding her or cleaning her litter box. I don't remember her being bothered when we got our dog. In my mind, she was pretty laid back about everything.
We went on vacation for a week one year to Indian Lake. Our neighbors were going to check on her and we had boarded our dog. It was the week that Prince Charles married Lady Diana.
When we got home, I found out that Coco had died...under my bed. The explanation I remember was that her lungs were filled with pus. (I assume now that her vaccination status was erratic at best.) My neighbors had taken care of her "burial", which had been a country burial. Now what I understand that to be was that she was buried in a mass grave with other pets. That fact bothers me to this day, as does the fact that she had died under my bed, probably wondering where I was.
Coco was a great cat that had the typical mistakes done at that time (unspayed, allowed to get pregnant three times, poor vaccinations, etc.), but I loved her and remember her fondly. Thanks for giving me my love of cats, Coco!

(Personal photo.)

Coco & me