Friends, I live with a very… special… cat.
When my husband adopted him 11 years ago, 16 weeks old from a shelter in Arkansas, they said he was a trouble maker.
“You don’t want this one,” they said.
“He’s annoying,” they said.
My husband says this is the only kitten that came over to him, and so that was that. Nathan brought him home and named him Gato.
My husband is Mexican.
Gato is spanish for Cat. Yep.
He has his own Facebook page, which lists his entire formal name: Gato Raul Juanito Espinosa. He’s very famous. The personality on this cat has in turn saved 3 orange cats from shelters via my mother and my grandmother – they just loved him so much when he and I lived with my mom, that they went out and got orange males of their own. Of course, none of them really had the personality of Gato.
This cat will hold entire conversations with you, and he rules the house. He’s very demanding. I maintain that he chooses to live with us, and we are his friends. Don’t call me a mom. He is not my child, he is Gato. The cat.
Not that long ago actually, a friend of mine pointed something out to me. She had just met him for the first time, and I was trying to explain his name to her. She is a pretty fluent spanish speaker, and I swear to George Morris she came up with what I think is the best most brilliant thing, ever.
“So that means Gato is like a title, right?”
Yes, he is EL GATO. The most interesting cat in the world.