We found Precious abandoned and alone, hiding under my stepfather's car, still just a newborn kitten. "Don't get too attached." He said, as he brought him into the house. Just small enough to fit in his palm. "We're not keeping him." As he placed him in the Pet-Go.



Shortly thereafter he was feeding him and giving him water, about an hour later my mother found a new best friend sleeping on her shoulder. As you can guess, we DID end up keeping him.



My mother insisted on calling him Precious, however, I saw it as too much of a girls name so I called him Pieces. (The name eventually stuck.)



He was the most well behaved cat you ever saw, and would know to go to bed when you told him. He headed downstairs on his own.



A protector, Pieces was always quick to run in and put his sister in her place whenever he heard her "hissing" at anyone. I remember one time when my Mom had sent the dog (Jackie) to wake me. Sweetheart was sleeping on my back and was frighteningly awoke by Jackie. She began to hiss and Pieces, as he always did, came to the rescue. Needless to say, a fight broke out that saw me hiding under the sheets to avoid the chaos (and getting scratched).



He was the best behaved, a natural protector, and would only let me hold him. He loved getting attention from everyone and loved watching the birds in the window. (But he hated going outside, so we kept him in the house.)



Pieces, Scooter Boo, Bubba Booie, My lil man. You really were "Precious" to us all.