I remember it as if it were yesterday. I had just broken up with my girlfriend of almost three years, and was spending the weekend with a cousin of mine. A strange thing about his family; they’re big cat lovers. I mean, real fans.
The day before, one of his cats had spotted a tabby sauntering down the street, and decided to act like a typical male, by making a pass on her. Sadly, he forgot that they lived on the fifth floor (that’s male thinking at work, for you). As expected, the fall was not without consequences and he was rushed to the vet. The doctor placed him at the vet equivalent of an IC unit, and the love (and pavement) stricken cat spent the night there.
That afternoon my cousin and I went to visit the poor beast. While my cousin was chatting with the good doctor, I noticed this cute girl who had brought her Dalmatian for her shots. This was a young dog, with the nervousness typical of her breed. As such, the girl had trouble lifting her up to the exam table and holding her there.
Ever the gentleman, I rushed over and helped soothe the Dalmatian, in the process chatting up the girl. When we left, she gave me her number. I called her the very next day, and we chatted on the phone, hitting it off like a wooden, gasoline-filled house on fire.
A week later, we went on our first date, and shared our first kiss. The date was October 3rd, 1992, and I remember it as if it were yesterday.