Some of you may think me silly to be writing a memorial to my dead Persian, but you know what? I don't care. Triple A, (Annoying Anonymous Animal), was my best friend. I had always considered myself more of a fire type, and canine pokemon kinda guy, but that was before Triple A crashed into my life.
That really was how we met too... See, I was fourteen years old at the time, and unlike most kids, I'd never gone to get a pokemon at the age of eleven. My parents bred growlithes and vulpixes, and I helped to raise them. I loved those fire mutts!
So anyway, skinny little teenage me, with my shaggy brown hair and dull blue eyes, met a little meowth on my way into the growlithe pen. I was lugging a huge bag of pokemon food, and I wasn't quite able to see where I was going, so when a little ball of cream fur ran right into me and caused me to trip over the fence into the area with the growlithes, landing flat on my back, the sack of food on my chest, I was completely taken by surprise.
The growlithes were barking furiously as they rammed their fluffy bodies into the fence, trying to get out to chase whatever had knocked into me. After getting over the shock of my fall, I got up, emptied the bag into the feeding trough for the pokemon, discarded the bag, then set out to find this mystery pokemon that had nearly killed me.
As I snooped around the house, I wasn't quite ready to have a little baby meowth jump into my arms and latch onto my shirt with it's claws, then climb to my shoulder, trying to escape from the family vulpix, Sheila, who had been chasing it.
"Yow!" I had exclaimed as the meowth's claws dug into me. I grabbed it by the scruff of it's neck and yanked it off my shirt, having to tug quite a bit to get its claws out of the fabric of my red t-shirt. "Damn meowth! I had a good mind to throw you back to those growlithes!" I yelled angrily, shaking the poor, startled thing.
"Meowth?" Its black eyes widened, full of kittily sweet innocence.
Immediately, my anger faded, and I cradled the poor thing. "I'll get you something to eat, then we'll try and find out where you came from."
Of course, we never did find out where Triple A came from, and he didn't seem like he was going to want to leave either. First thing the little meowth did after he was fed was decide that my pillow was now his, and that's where he always slept till this day. For the first few weeks that he lived with us, he prowled my room and explored, getting to know my room like the back of his... paw. After he settled in my room, he ventured forth into the rest of the house... But only from the safety of my shoulder. (Triple A always did love my shoulders, he never liked Sheila though, which is why he loved my shoulders)
By the second month that we'd had Triple A, he'd gotten to know every single little corner to our house and yard. The growlithes, arcanines, vulpixes(except Sheila) and ninetales grew to tolerate him, and so did my parents, so long as he used his litter box and stayed out of their room.
Me and Triple A... We had our little fights, but we got along. Whenever I talked on the phone, he would either sit on my shoulder (when he was little, when he grew bigger he would sit on something then put his front paws on my shoulder), or sit near on the table that I sat at, or found some way to listen to my conversation. If he liked the person I was talking to, he would listen the entire time, but if he didn't, as soon as he heard the person's voice, he would have this disgusted look on his face, like he'd tasted something bad, and then he'd walk off until I was doe talking to them.
Triple A went everywhere with me. Even to school. He'd skulk around the school campus until school was over, and then he would run, yes, my persian would [i]run[/i] run up to me, demand to be petted, and then walk back home with me.
Damn, I'm crying. There, found some tissues. I really loved that pokemon you know. I mean, we never did any training, he was just my friend, and a very good one at that. Me and Triple A, we were like... we were like... I dunno what we were like, but we were *really* close. I understood most of what he said after a while, and he understood me.
I don't know what I'm gonna do without that persian... My parents tell me he was just a pokemon, but he wasn't! He was my best friend. And I loved that damn cat pokemon. I'm only nineteen, and I know there will be other pokemon in my life, but none of them will ever be like Triple A. They couldn't be. Triple A was a unique persian. He grew up around dog pokemon, and therefore had many canine traits. He learnt how to fetch, to beg, and he even learnt to swim. Yeah, I know. Miracle, ain't it?
Although he and Sheila never got along, I have a feeling their little fights were just for fun. It's been a few hours since we learnt Triple A died, and Sheila ran into my room, stole his(mine really) pillow, and then disappeared off into her kennel with it...
We all miss Triple A, the house isn't going to be the same without him... Here's to a persian that was a gift straight from the heaven above! A gift that knocked me flat on my back, and taught me the value of watching where I step if I value my life.
Adieu my fine furred friend, see you again someday...