Hello. My name is Little Betty Booper, but most people and cats call me Booper or just plain Boop. I don't remember much about the beginning of my life, so I'll start with the day that I met my momma.

A lady brought me to Momma-human before I had my eyes open. I was screaming my head off, because I was really hungry and no one was feeding me. Momma tried, but she couldn't get me to eat either. Luckily, she had rescued a pregnant cat who had given birth to two white and black kittens. Momma put me in the crate with the kittens and I went right to the milkbar. Mommycat and kittens accepted me and I became one of the family.

Mommycat nursed me and groomed me and treated me as her own kitten. Everything was wonderful while we crawled around exploring our new world. We were warm and loved. Life was good, until the two white and black kittens, The Pods, started to walk and I continued to crawl.

Momma-human told me not to worry that I was probably younger and would catch up. I never did. Days turned into weeks. Mommycat found a home and The Pods went to live with Momma-human's sister. I gained weight and my front end was getting really strong. I could pull myself around with my front legs, but my back legs weren't moving. I didn't see this as a problem, but Momma-human took me to see another human called A-Vet.

This A-Vet examined me which means poked and prodded and made me upset. I cried, not because I was hurt, but because I was mad. This A-Vet told Momma-human to give him permission to put me down. He said that I would never walk and wouldn't be able to use a litter box. He said that I would have problems all of my life and it would be nicer to put me to sleep. Well, I wasn't sleepy, so I curled up in Momma-human's arms and turned my back on him. Momma-human said that she wanted to vaccinate me and give me a chance. A-Vet said that he wouldn't do that, so Momma-human took me and left. We went to three different A-Vets before I was two months old and they all said the same thing. Put me to sleep. Lucky for me, Momma-human didn't listen to any of them.

When I was about eight weeks old, I didn't have a name except Kitty. Momma-human had become Momma, but she was afraid to name me. I think that she sort of believed the A-Vets and thought that I'd die, but I didn't.

I was crated in a medium dog crate during the day, but when Momma came home from work, exciting things happened. She noticed that I crawled into the litter box and everything was normal in there. She also noticed that I could move my tail, so Momma decided that I needed physical therapy.

Every night while Momma watched TV or a movie, she'd put me on her lap and we'd exercise. At first, I didn't know what was going on, but it was fun time with Momma, so I didn't object. She'd put a towel down on her lap and then put me on it - on my back. First, she'd wiggle my feet and count my toes. I thought that was funny. She massaged my feet, even between my pads. I liked that. Then we progressed to pulling and pushing my back legs. I enjoyed our time together, but really didn't understand what I was supposed to do.

I became stronger and put on weight. Momma sang to me and we exercised to nursery rhymes. By the time that I was four months old, Momma had started calling me Little Bitty Kitty. I was small for my age, and still not walking. Momma talked about buying me or building me a contraption with wheels, so that I could get around better.

I didn't understand what she was talking about. I was getting around OK. I was dragging my back legs, but that was no big deal. I didn't see myself as any different from other cats. Most cats accepted me, but a few were afraid and got hissy. Momma was always there to make sure that I wasn't hurt. So one day while Momma and I were exercising, I figured it all out.

I was on my back in Momma's lap when she pushed my back legs in toward my tummy. She must have lost her concentration, because she held my legs there longer that I liked, so I pushed back. You should have seen the expression on her face. It was funny and I was smiling. She looked at me and asked if I had really pushed back. By that time, I had a twinkle in my eye. Momma pushed again and I pushed back. By then, I was five months old.

Momma made a little sling so that she could hold me while I tried to stand. I thought that standing was great and I got steadier and steadier, as long as Momma was holding me. After a while, Momma showed me how to move my legs in a walking motion. I wasn't coordinated at first, but soon my brain figured out what my legs were supposed to do. While Momma supported me, I learned how to walk. The problem was that when Momma and the sling weren't supporting me, I fell down every time. Momma and I didn't give up.

When I was six months old, I could finally stand on my own. It took a lot of work, but it was worth it. Then I took my first step and fell over on my right side. Momma came rushing to my rescue, saying "That's a Boop!", but I had gotten up by myself and started to take another step. I fell over on my left side. "Another Boop!" Momma just watched and left me alone. I kept practicing until I could take two and then three and then four steps before falling over. Finally, I could walk across the room and only fall over once or twice. My back end was wobbly, but I could walk using my tail for balance. And, I had a real name: Little Betty Booper. The rest, as they say, is history.

Once I started walking, there was no stopping me. I could run and play and do all of the normal kitty things, except jumping. My back legs weren't strong enough for that. I also had a problem turning corners. When running down the hall, my front end would go around the corner, but my back end sat down. I adapted and soon I was getting along pretty well.

I couldn't jump on the furniture, but I could claw my way up with my front paws. I'm glad that Momma wasn't upset with the claw marks on the sofa and chairs.

Eventually, I had to face being spayed and vaccinated. Momma searched around until she found A-Vet who said that putting me under an anesthetic would be OK. Yeah! OK for her. Momma left me and I had surgery and was vaccinated. When Momma picked me up, she wanted to make sure that I was walking before she left. One of the ladies got all upset and told Momma that they all just couldn't help crying when they saw me wobble around. It was so pitiful. Momma told her not to worry that they'd never have to cry over me again. Momma was going to look for another A-Vet. One who would celebrate my accomplishments and not labor over my disability.

I don't think of myself as disabled. I'm smaller than most female cats, but I'm sturdy and pretty healthy. I've had to learn to do things that other cats do naturally. Some days I have more trouble than others. On those days, I think of myself as having The Wobbles, but most days, I do just fine. If you'd like to join me next month, I'll tell you more about my life. My accomplishments are many. I'd love to share them with you.

I forgot to tell you something. I'm going to be nine years old in October.

Little Betty Booper, but you can just call me Booper.

I really can't remember Booper's original diagnosis. I'm afraid that I was only half-listening as the vets told me how cruel I was to not euthanize Booper. When people ask, I tell them that she has cerebral palsy. It's a term that most people understand. I finally found a vet who is very positive about Booper and celebrates The Boop as Differently-Abled

Maryellen