Stories Continued and Concluded...

The first thing the new girl did when sprung from her carrier was to look around, and spying the sofa, make a beeline for the farthest corner beneath it. Angel, meanwhile, sat across the room silently waiting to see what the wee girl would do. Hours passed until Samantha grew tired of her perch and dove under the sofa, emerging with a loudly meowing kitten in her grasp. Planting her in the middle of the rug, both older females circled, sniffed and looked her over, ultimately deciding she was harmless. This time, Angel took the lead, dragging the newcomer off to the litter box and then marching her past two sets of food and water bowls to a third, and swatting her when she ventured too close to the bowls that were not hers.

Bedtime was another hurdle. Just who would sleep where was decided when, after Sam and Angel found our kitten curled inside a hand knitted lap blanket, they both determined to go there as well. For years thereafter the three would sleep nestled together there on the bed while I was often made to feel completely in the way.

Phoebe as she came to be called, was a hider, terribly ill at ease with any human other than me and only at home with Sam and Angel. Terrified of any outside noise, the vacuum, toys that made sounds, the radio or computer, she spent large portions of the day beneath furniture or in my bedroom closet. Anxiety resulted in a condition known as PICA, in which cats eat non-biologic items such as bits of plastic, dolls feet, coins or other items. They do not ever stop once they start and Phoebe experienced two abdominal surgeries which saved her life but resulted in a very spartan house in which few things are ever left out.

When in her fourth year Jacob was introduced into our family,  her fears intensified and it wasn't until Sam, and then Angel, passed away that Phoebe became slightly more outgoing and began seeking human contact.

Samantha died at the age of fifteen of cancer in 2008. Angel was seventeen at her death in November 2012 snd Phoebe was sixteen at her departure in 2016. Those of you who read regularly have seen the story of Jacob, the sweetest and most inquisitive of the bunch.

They all taught me so much, not only about accepting quirks, foibles and differences in temperament but about the bond between human and animal, the strength of which intensifies with time and the challenges of daily living. I now recognize this as precious and know that I actually prefer the company of animals to that of most humans. The fact of several close friends having died prematurely in recent years only heightens this for me.

I hope the new year is kind to all of you who visit here. Thank you for your care in reading and commenting. I look forward to further adventures in 2018.

Spunky Angel and More...

As Angel grew, she became the consummate opinionated Siamese, expressing her views and vocalizing freely. She loved high places and the chance to surprise whomever she could by suddenly launching herself from a counter or cabinet top. It took patience from both Samantha and me to teach this little mite that she would be fed regularly and consistently and did not therefore need to scale our kitchen garbage can for scraps. She did not adjust well as a bottle baby, and we never learned anything about when her feline mother was lost to her. There was speculation, based upon her behavior, that Angel lost her mother early and therefore developed a reliance on whatever morsels she could scrounge. While Sam swiftly corrected her table manners, Angel's fear of not getting enough to eat remained with her until middle age. As Sam aged, Angel became her helpmate. The two groomed each other and slept together in a ball at the end of my bed or splayed across my legs until another little girl found our home.

It was the spring of 2000 when a co-worker brought in two feral kittens. She took the female blue point Siamese, leaving her all black golden-eyed sister up for grabs. Her first stop? My office, dubbed the Little Gray Cell, a take off of a line from Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot. Unsure of how she would respond to me, I sat quietly as her carrier was opened on my desk. She sniffed, looked around, walked up to my face, climbed up my shoulder and draped herself around my neck, meowing. For good measure, she also attempted to sit on my head which happily did not last long.

Bringing her to the vet after work, I discovered that the scales around her tail and backside were actually a raging case of potentially contagious ringworm. The phone call to my office informing them of this was particularly delightful. Fortunately, she was able to stay at the vet until medication cleared things up.

Her homecoming to the flat I live in presently entailed loud wailing as she spared no-one her dislike of riding in the car. Sam sniffed the carrier, gave me the evil eye, pushed Angel toward the still nameless newcomer and stationed herself on our sofa to watch further developments...To be Continued...