Monday, March 15, 2010


Frisky wasn't named yet. He was just a tiny kitten who ran through what Margie’s five-year-old mind remembers as a mouse hole in the fence to escape the rubble falling all around him. You see; the house the kitten lived under was being demolished by a huge scary ball! Black and white and covered in dust, he surprised Margie by running straight at her.

It was love at first touch for both Margie and the little fur ball, and it was Margie’s first ever animal rescue.

Frisky earned his name by his playful ways – he sprinted in a clumsy zigzag formation and pounced at nothings in the air – or it may have been a popular pet food commercial on TV at the time…this was the 1960’s. The name mattered little for Margie had found a playmate and she discovered the divine friendship of a cat.

Mr. Frisky was a bit of a world traveler, in a cat’s world anyway. He moved with Margie’s family from Monterey to four different houses in Scotts Valley before settling in at “606.” 606 was a big A-frame that Margie’s dad built and Frisky loved it! There were wood beams to walk along, high windows to gaze out at life beyond from, and no shortage of nighttime visitors. The raccoons were plentiful in Scotts Valley; one man even had a pet raccoon that rode around on the hood of his truck. You would never see that in Monterey.

Frisky went to live among the stars of heaven some time ago, but he left his mark on Margie's cheek for all time when the sound of her daddy’s power drill scared him – Frisky shot up and out of her arms with claws out. Though that mark has faded with the decades, the mark he left on her heart is one of the many sparks that ignites her passion for animals today.

Margie grew up to become Mari, and Mari has something to say to that green-eyed, black-and-white first cat, “Thank you Frisky!"

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