This morning as I checked my Facebook page, I saw an unusually high number of kitty cat photos and videos. I suppose politics can do that to you, seeking a getaway and remembering better times.

As a lonely little kid, an only child, who lived in a neighborhood with elderly neighbors, my kitty, Wiggle Tail (yes, I named him) brought love and companionship to my little girl, self. He was my first pet, something of my very own.

Now we all know when a cat wiggles his tail that perhaps he is not happy, but my Wiggle Tail always put up with my antics. You know the usual stuff. I dressed him in doll clothes, read to him, colored in my big Coloring Book that Santa left for me on Christmas morning, with him. He was my best friend.

But mainly I took him, (maybe dragged him is the best descriptive verb), with me to visit our next-door neighbors. There, at the neighbor’s nice screened-in porch, Wiggle Tail was honored with a special blanket for napping and an occasional tea party.

Yes, the neighbors, whom I called Grandma Dennis and Aunt Eula, put up with my little girl antics as well. Actually, they encouraged my chatty self because even at four years old, I could tell convincing stories.

And during those years, Wiggle Tail, Grandma Dennis, Aunt Eula and my parents were my whole world. Indeed, I was a blessed little girl.

In my backyard was one large oak tree where Daddy fastened a swing to a tree branch, nothing elaborate, just a one seat, child size, plus one kitty. And Wiggly Tail and I sailed, close to the moon, I thought, for hours and hours, almost every day.

As we sailed higher and higher, my dare-devil self sang to my kitty. “I’m My Own Grandpa,” which was my very favorite. Sometimes, I added, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

It seems I always had Santa Claus on my mind, and I shared my delight and dread, about the jolly man dressed in red, with Wiggle Tail. You see I was terrified of him, yet I loved him. It was complicated but Wiggle Tail understood.

And as the days passed in sweet bliss for one little girl and her kitty, I am certain there were problems close by but not in my world. My daddy drove Studebakers and my mama made all of my clothes. She tried to have a rose garden but was not blessed with a green thumb.

But Aunt Eula had a flower garden in the front and vegetable garden in the back of her house. She kept us with fresh cuts flowers for the dining room table and fresh tomatoes and okra for the dinner table.

And it was a time when pets were fed from the table and I must say, Wiggle Tail ate mighty fine meals as supplied by mama and Aunt Eula, such as cuts from fresh fish and pork. It is hard to believe, but as the time I was a picky eater, but I loved tuna salad and red jello, and therefore, Wiggle Tail joined me for many such type feasts. We both licked out lips.

But one morning, Wiggle Tail did not come when I called. Mama and I searched the neighborhood. I called and called and called.

I remember Aunt Eula’s sad face when Mama told her. My kitty was gone, and my world shattered.

I never knew what happened to him, maybe Mama knew or Aunt Eula, but they never shared the details with me. It was for the best. I didn’t need to know.

I actually survived the loss of my best friend and learned a lot from the experience, but I missed my sweet world of bliss which was without hurts and disappointments, and I missed Wiggle Tail.

So, this morning I remember my fuzzy best friend, my Wiggle Tail and my heart still hurts, but the memories of an almost perfect childhood override any sadness.

Anne McKee is a lively Mississippi-inspired Storyteller. See her website: www.annemckeestoryteller.com