Just a few months ago, I was having margaritas at a SoMa restaurant. My heart was still pretty sore from losing my best kitty cat friend of 12 years, Betty the boy cat, and I’d spent some tearful afternoons at local shelters petting kittens and trying to figure out if I was emotionally ready to adopt. Through the window, I saw a woman in front of the gas station across the street waving a paper sign. I squinted for a better look, and the words “kittens and cocktails” leapt off the paper at me. The last sip of margarita lit a fire in me and I decided to follow that hand-scribbled sign behind the gas station, even if it led me to a kidnapper’s van.
It led to a new vet clinic, where cat rescue group CLAWS (Cats’ Lives Are Worth Saving) was showing off adoptable cats. My heart throbbed from the sight of all the kittens (and probably from the very strong margarita), and in one room were two little black kittens, all alone, no one to pet them. Within five minutes of cuddling the funny-looking tuxedo boy, despite his noxious farts, I was in love. Then people noticed and started getting interested in my kitten and I was prepared to fight if I had to. I left that very hour with George Meowchael in tow.
Almost four months later, George is still cuddly and a lot less farty. I’m obsessed with him, and I think (desperately hope) he’s obsessed with me, too. I wanted to do something for the rescue group that brought us together and took such great care of George before we were united, so I created a piece of jewelry to raise money for their cause.