Meet Lucy at 5 weeks and 5 months.
I had a plan. I fostered her brother Desi and her when they were taken to a local animal shelter at 4 days old. Their eyes were still closed and they were orphans. I had no idea what I was in for! I thought I did. I knew that newborn kittens had to be bottle fed every two hours. I thought I can do that for a few weeks. HAH!
Sadly, Desi died in his sleep at 6 days old. Lucy, on the other hand, was a noisy, tiny scrapper and she thrived.
Back to the plan: I took the two because I knew I’d give them back to the shelter as a pair to keep them together. This would be at around 6-8 weeks, so they could be fixed and then put up for adoption. Easy-peasy.
Lucy being alone in the world changed everything. I was the only family she had. She opened her eyes, cuddled, and came when I called. I was hooked. I’ve decided to adopt her when the time comes. I can’t give her up.
So my plan failed. And I have a new cat. Sorsha is fascinated by her. Not sure she likes her, but hasn’t attacked her. And Lucy wants Sorsha as a friend, so that’s been fun to watch their interplay. I’m sure they will become fast sisters.
Sorsha is almost 4. If you read about Xena, you will not be surprised that Sorsha came in through the cat door three years ago during Christmas. Also semi-feral, so a challenge to win over.
Just since my senior cats died has she been coming on my lap…just for a while because I want to pet her and she jumps down. I think she still sees me as more a consistent food provider than a loved human. But she’s started to sleep on my bed, so there’s hope. As long as I don’t bug her, she tolerates me.
She’s a dilute tortoiseshell (meaning having only two colors) and she’s named after a character in a Nora Roberts Irish trilogy. The proper spelling is Sorcha, but I thought everyone might mispronounce it, so I spelled it phonetically.
Xena (Warrior Princess) lived for 17 years. She came in through the cat door as a wee, small kitten and never left. I was going to be tough and not feed her, because then she’d find her way out. She stayed, so being tough only lasted a day. Being semi-feral, I also couldn’t catch her. Zee remained standoffish all her life…with everyone but me.
My friends and family sometimes teased that they weren’t sure she wasn’t a figment of my imagination. She fled whenever anyone came over, so they didn’t see her. If I went out of town, the people coming to feed her left food in the dish, but never saw her.
But with me, she was different. I guess you could say I was her person. She would sit with me wherever I was in the house. She slept on my bed. She was the best.
I miss her every day.
Grady lived 23 years and was the inspiration for Pyewacket, the cat in my first book, HAZARD PLAY. Grady was big, long-haired, and majestic.
I got him from my vet. The black cat lived in a house across the street from the vet’s office and the people abandoned him to the streets when they moved. The vet neutered him, gave him shots, and fed him.
When I needed a cat, I called the vet’s office to see if they knew any clients who were giving away some kittens. The receptionist wanted me to meet “Grateful.” I thought, an adult cat about five years old, probably not. I went there and she walked me across the street and called him. The owners were fans of the Grateful Dead and so named him, Grateful.
The gorgeous guy came up to us. I picked him up and he put both arms up and hooked his paws around my neck. That was it. I renamed him Grady.
He was the ruler of all he surveyed.