I was found in a shed on a property where my dad does computer work. I was the runt of a litter of three from a stray, outdoor mother. My dad took me and my other two siblings home. My parents were not planning on keeping us because they already had three cats and felt three more were too many. They called me Orangie and my sister Blackie, thinking they were not going to keep us so names didn’t matter. My mom and dad still tried to find us homes, but the bigger we got, the harder it was, so as days went by, mom and dad just decided to keep us.
Mom start to wonder why I was not getting any bigger like my sister. Blackie was double my size and learned how to use a litter box on her own. Dad noticed I was not walking well, so mom took me to a vet who said nothing was wrong with me. Later, I ended up at an emergency vet who said I was a sick kitten, and I may not live much longer. Eventually, they took me to a new vet where I got much-needed meds and a better outlook on my future.
The vet told my parents I have a mega colon, that I may never get any bigger, that my back legs are not strong, and I may have a neurological issue, which is a reason I don’t use a litter box. I now take three meds daily to help with my issues.
I am a happy boy as long as I know Mom and Dad are coming home after work at night to be with me. I don’t like being alone. I have several names my parents call me: Little Orangie, Orange, Oranger and, Daddy’s favorite, “O.” I am considered a teacup, dwarf or a miniature kitten, which means I will stay kitten-sized and maintain kitten-like features my entire life. I love to sleep under Mommy’s arm or next to her face, sigh and EAT and EAT and EAT. I have been called Garfield even though I have no clue who or what that is.
I turned 2 years old on June 28. My parents tell me they are so glad they kept us because we bring more joy to their lives.
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