Name: Kramer

Age: 4 - born sometime in September of 2002. Adopted in May of 2003.

Breed: Orange tabby (though he’s really more of a peach color. Is there such a thing as a peach tabby?)

Nicknames: Crickets, A*!-hole, Fatty, Kramey

Adoption story: adopted from Puppy Hill Farm in Gainesville, FL, when they brought animals to PetSmart on the weekends

Issues: abandonment issues, clingy personality

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This is Kramer, our big fat orange tabby.

When I was in grad school living alone, I missed my baby Angel (who was back in California then - RIP) terribly, so I decided to adopt a kitty. On weekends at the local PetSmart, animal rescue organizations would bring a bunch of cats and dogs for open adoptions. I went a few weekends in a row, looking for just the right cat. I noticed Kramer and his sister one weekend, but for some reason didn’t pay much mind. The next weekend, he and his sister were gone, apparently adopted. But, a few weeekends later, Kramer was back, by himself.

Apparently, the woman who’d adopted the two kitties didn’t realize what she was getting into and decided to give Kramer back up for adoption. That day, I asked to hold this adorable orange tabby. He was about 8 months old at the time, and I knew that his chances of getting adopted would get slimmer as he got older. Without hesitation, Kramer was loving all over me, purring up a storm and resting in my arms as though we’d known each other forever. I was smitten. He went home with me the next day.

Kramer and his sister were found abandoned at a local Citgo gas station. Being the creative geniuses that they are, the people at the adoption place named his sister Citgo, and Kramer was named Orange. How original. I had to come up with a better name for him.

As many cat owners understand, cats name themselves. You just have to give it time. Kramer was a very spastic kitten. He would chase the folds in my comforter as though they were alive. He’d climb under the covers and chase his tail. He actually tore the carpet off the foundation.  He also liked walking sideways on the walls. After a couple of weeks, his name came to me: Kramer, as in the spastic character from the TV show Seinfeld.

Kramer’s always been extremely loving and happy. He trusts anyone and everyone and will immediately come up to strangers, looking for love and affection. Kramer is so happy that you don’t even have to pet him to make him go into a kitty coma; all he has to do is sit by you, and his eyes are half closed as he purrs like crazy. His purring, by the way, sounds like crickets, which led to one of his nicknames: Crickets. How original, indeed.

Nowadays, Kramer is . . . well, fat. I think he’s got pretty bad abandonment issues from his old Citgo days, which is why I think he’s so affectionate and clingy. I also believe that his insecurity manifests itself in ‘closet eating’– we don’t see him eating more than the other cats, but he obviously must be because he’s gained a lot of weight in his adulthood. He walks without bending his legs, so it’s really more of a waddle or a lumbering about rather than a walking movement. He also can’t reach his own rear end, which leads to disgusting cling-ons around his hoo-ha. Gross.

But we love this kid, and he loves us. He also loves Oyster, the 80+ lb. dog. They are both orange, so they bond over the color of their fur.