Information

Rigatoni
Legacy Name: Rigatoni

The Sun Feli
Owner: Pureflower

Age: 7 years, 3 months, 3 weeks

Born: January 1st, 2017

Adopted: 7 years, 3 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: January 1st, 2017

Pet Spotlight Winner
November 26th, 2023

Statistics

• Level: 50
   
• Strength: 63
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 91
   
• Books Read: 72
• Food Eaten: 1
• Job: Mr. Manager

My first memory is fuzzy but definite. I was a teeny tiny kitten tottering around on new legs. My littermates were annoying fuzzballs all around me. They were happy to pounce on Mom's tail and chase beetles that scurried past the back door of Rathskeller Inn. I was not. Right from the start, I was one that followed my nose and the first thing it led me to was a big, overfilled bowl of tomato sauce.

The sauce had been set aside for a batch of torrent spaghetti though I didn't know that at the time. I only knew there was this heavenly scent drifting down from an unknown source above my head. Imagine my delight when the funny cloth hanging off the edge of the table proved easy to pull. With every tug of my teeth, the bowl of interesting got a little closer to the edge until...

Crash! Splat!

It took Mom an hour to get the worst of the goo out of my fur but with her best efforts, she couldn't free me of the rich red-orange dye that sank through to the roots of my once-cream coat.

I didn't mind at all, though my siblings teased me for looking funny. They never were adventurous with food the way I was. When a plate of pirate spaghetti slipped out of Babette's paw, they sniffed at it and gave me a dirty look when I dug right in and made every last tentacle disappear. They were appalled when I ignored a perfectly good dish of cream to slurp my way through a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

My siblings went away to new homes one by one until it was just Mom and me. It was a few days after Tulip left that she placed a gentle paw on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

"It's time for you to go your own way, Toni. You know feli law."

I did. Unlike a ruffie who may keep her children around for a few years or a rreign who never lets her children out of her sight, it is the feli way not to keep kittens around any longer than is necessary to teach them how to survive.

Mom got me a job at Beach Shack. It was a daily struggle not to stick my nose in the deep-fried dishes ordered up by our customers. At night, more often than not, I would find myself relying on the kindness of Charity to get a meal. I was earning just enough to keep a tiny place on Lain Lane, the sort of place that's too small for even a minion to live in for long.

I got letters every now and then from my sibs. Tulip was an assistant at Clothing Rack, well on her way to management. Tansy was doing research on Atebus. Even Terry the clown of the litter had made out alright, taking a position as an aide for the Recycle Beast. I hinted at exciting new dishes to come, full well knowing my family wouldn't take their food deep-fried if they were starving.

I didn't care if I ever made it into Saggitarius Towers but I couldn't spend the rest of my life mopping under the deep-fryers. I thanked Lindsay for letting me have a place in the Shack and handed in my resignation.

I needed a family of my own.

I made it a point to walk up to nice-looking Subetans. Mostly they ignored me. A few gave me annoyed looks. One kind lady told me I was lovely, like a sunrise. I asked if she might like a little sunshine in her life. She lowered her gaze and told me all her slots were full, but she was sure I would find a nice family very soon.

I started to worry. I didn't want to end up in Adopt R Us. Who would want a tomato-colored feli when there are amazing experiments and pets with rare colors awaiting new owners? If I kept wandering around, someone would report me and the big gray-green van would track me down. Giving up my position at the Shack wasn't my best idea.

I spent a few weeks sleeping in one of the seaside caves under a damp sheet of newspaper. I tossed and turned every night to dreams of an enormous velosotor chasing me down with a net. I was afraid to even ask Charity for a bowl of soup. It's not as if there are any generous Subetans that give away grooming supplies and I was starting to take on the look of a homeless pet.

I'd just about given up hope. Then I met Pure.

She was in this flowing silver gown with fancy white flowers in her hair. Two pets walked at her side, an enormous white archan that trailed some sort of mist and a golden clawsion that chatted with her as if the two were old friends. Here was a family that probably dined on selections from the Millionaire Center every night. I was jealous and full of longing. They say curiosity can kill a feli. I don't know that it was curiosity that made me sneak past the seaweed strands to make my approach. I think it was more desperation. The night before, I'd tried to eat that seaweed. Horrible stuff.

How best to make my approach? Should I go for the cute and cuddly angle, flopping down on my back and waving my paws in the air? Should I try to look as sad as possible in hopes of winning a few sympathy points? Or would it be best to act aloof, give them a taste of some feli attitude?

The smell from Pure's shopping bag hit me with a lovely wave of oregano, basil and thyme. All hopes of keeping up my dignity were gone at the first whiff of pasta. Not just any pasta, lasagna. The king of all pasta dishes. (Pure will argue it's chicken carbonara but she also admits she's biased toward something called "Earth Food", whatever that is.)

I only meant to take a look at the container, I swear. I really had no intention of falling in, knocking the tin pan flying and hastily devouring the spilled food before it could go to waste. No, really. Why are you laughing?

P.F. didn't find it so funny that I'd heartily enjoyed her dinner. She's the family gourmand and a mountain spirit that makes flowers grow. She's also the oldest pet in the family. She can be as nice as Shinwa or as cranky as Maleria. There's not much middle ground with P.F.

Tauren, on the other hand, has got to be the nicest clawsion on the planet of Subeta. He laughed heartily when my best innocent look was spoiled be a lasagna noodle falling off the tip of my ear. He's the one who asked Pure if I could stay.

Pure was trying so hard not to laugh. "We could use a protector of the pasta, couldn't we P.F.?"

Needless to say, I got the job. I also learned all kinds of cool secrets about cooking from Pure. We sneak bacon into the spaghetti and deep-fry blobs of mac & cheese soup for a truly glorious snack. They're not treats you can find on the main market. They're better. Homemade food usually is.

You can call me Toni, Protector of the Pasta, Spaghetti Security Service, and Lasagna Lover. Most of the family has their own rooms but I insisted on plunking my bed down in front of the fridge. Even Lion thinks twice about trying to sneak midnight snacks with me around.

Profile coding by Bug
Story by Pureflower
Background from pixabay
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