Sir Frankie Crisp

  This little boy literally fell into my lap. I've wanted a Manx my entire life because Daddy always wanted one. Daddy hated cats because a big Siamese that got walked on a leash jumped on his head when he was a kid. When I was six he got me Flower, the guinea pig, because all I talked about was cats. I woke up Christmas morning, and she was dead. Daddy ran out to the shelter and bought me Sugar Plum the next day. She lived to be nineteen because evil never dies, she only liked Daddy. Daddy did like Lou cat, who my brother found. Frankie looks a bit like him, wild. I just got a Saint Francis statue last week at Apple Festival. Daddy's middle name was Francis after his beloved uncle. He came with the name, Frankie. He comes when you call. He is five months old, May 9th, 8:30 pm, a lovable Taurus. I still have to run his chart. He was born in a three-hundred year old stone fairy cottage. He loves us and is a good boy, purrs like a machine. He cuddles and gives lots of kisses. I had no idea he would just come in and take over. I have a bit of catproofing to do. He was already in the Monster High bus. I have to move Julius's tank, but she had fishtanks in her magical cottage. Thank You, Anna! I found this guy completely by accident on Adopt a Pet. I thought I'd be driving to New York or Altoona after waiting a year and paying hundreds of dollars for a Manx. They aren't common. He's got the mittens too. They call them fairy cats on The Isle of Man, but the Manx always said that they arrived with the Spanish armada. Legends don't stray far from the truth as their DNA is most closely related to the Spanish wildcat. I met his mother, he looks like her. She was really lovable and vocal but was swatting at Frankie. I told Ron we probably should not take him, but he said to bring him home. I love Frankie already. 

The Ballad of Sir Frankie Crisp