You probably don't remember me. That's okay. I'll clue you in.
Remember when I wrote about my little boy, Packy, and how he wanted a kittycat? Well, a special little furry friend walked into his life; it's been true love ever since.
However, it wasn't without incident: see, at the time, we were living in an apartment complex that didn't allow pets; however, last Christmas a miracle occurred; now we can have pets here! Needless to say, many people are a lot happier!
My son, Patrick (nicknamed Packy), is now nine, growing like a weed. He's doing well in school, life in general. He still uses his crutches or a wheelchair for mobility (he has spina bifida; he was born with it); he doesn't let his disability stop him. When he is down, he isn't down for long, thank goodness.
Jingle Bells, the kitty, is now about a year and a half old, getting cuter by the day. She has sleek, jet-black fur, huge eyes of golden green, and a whimsical expression on her face most of the time. She purrs almost constantly, and she's always by her young master's side; they are inseperable.
I think Jingle Bells is the best thing that could have happened to my son. Beforehand he was so depressed, downtrodden. Now he spends his days with his little furry companion, his laughter ringing in the air; it is music to my ears! They play all the time, sleep together, eat together. When they're apart, the kitty will sit by the door, refuse to budge, until Packy's bus pulls up. When he sees his wheelchair (or him) entering the lobby, she instantly dissolves into purrs, leaps into his lap, rubs her face on his, meowing a happy hello.
Soon Christmas will be approaching; you can bet that my son will be asking Santa Claus for something extra special for Jingle Bells. I will, in turn, have to get something special too; our lives have been made better, all because of the love between one little disabled boy and one small, furry obsidian cat called "Jingle Bells". She is the best Christmas present we could have ever hoped (or asked) for!
