"Kitty??"

I think Adam was about 2 ½ when we moved into our new home back in 1990.  It sat nestled in the shadow of the Murrayhill area of Beaverton, off of SW 135^th Avenue on Angora Lane.  It was the bunny section of Beaverton; there was also Snowshoe Street and Cottontale Lane.

We were unpacking the Sewing Room, putting away the puppets and scraps of material.  Some of those scraps were quite small, and honestly, not worth saving, so we tossed them into the small garbage pail in the corner of the room. 

Adam had been playing with his toys in his bedroom just across the hall; both doors were open.  He wandered in, looked around and ran his fingers over the various fabrics.  He seemed to like the fake furs best, as did I.  We’d used the fur for our hand-and-rod puppets.

Our two cats, Bill (a brown tabby) and Felix (a black short hair) walked into the room to check out what was going on.  They sat down nearby and watched intently as we sorted, shelved, and tossed away the various pieces of fabric.

Suddenly, something in the corner of the room caught Adam’s eye.  He got up, walked slowly to the trash container, picked up a piece of black fur.  Looking quite perplexed he turned to us, tilted his head to the side, and said, “Kitty??”

He didn’t grasp that what he held in his little hand wasn’t Felix!

We reassured him that, “No, that’s not Felix.  He’s right over there,” I said, pointing to the doorway. 

Adam sighed. He seemed comforted that his fuzzy, furry friend was still with us!

Bill & Felix, the boys