Thanks to a couple of people (Showmyface http://www.showmyface.com/ and Ruby) always talking about their cats I’ve been missing mine lately.
Growing up I always had at least one cat. I was two (I believe) when we went to the pet store with money from my Grandfather and picked out my first Cat. She was a beautiful Calico and the softest cat I have ever touched. Her name was Princess. Original, I know. Don’t blame me I was only two, I didn’t name her.
Quite a few years later my Nana (Dad’s Grandmother) was living with us and she decided she wanted a cat. We went for another kitten. Nana had also recently gotten an electric keyboard and I remember her telling me that since she got the piano I could have the cat.
Misty was black and white and she was my Baby. She came when I called her and answered me when I talked to her.
She had a good life. She was one of the fattest cats I’ve ever seen. One day, however, I noticed that she wasn’t eating well and that she had begun to lose weight.
We took her to the vet where we were promptly informed that she was diabetic. He put her on an insulin shot that we had to administer twice a day. Poor thing.
She had barely gotten any better before she was sick again and due to kidney failure it became necessary to have her euthanized.
What an awful day. They asked if I wanted to say good bye to her and then leave but there was no way I was going to leave and let them do that to her all alone. So, I stayed. I scratched her face and her neck like she liked and told her I loved her until she was gone. Even today I miss “My Baby” so much.
After saying good bye to Misty it wasn’t long before I realized that I just had to have another cat. My Dad and I talked about it and decided we wanted a solid grey cat and were going to adopt it from the shelter.
Soon we made a trip to the shelter. Cats everywhere! There were only one or two solid grey cats, though for some reason, they weren’t clicking with me.
I sat down on a bench while my Dad talked to a volunteer. As I sat I was greeted, hesitantly at first, by a solid black kitty cat. She only sniffed at first but it didn’t take long before she was practically climbing in my lap.
The volunteer looked over and I believe her words were something along the lines of “She never does that!”
That’s all I needed to hear! I’d found my cat. Or to be more specific, she had found me. I told my Dad “This is the one.” He was kind of disappointed though because he was really looking forward to an all grey cat. But I couldn’t help it. I had to have the black one that greeted me so swiftly.
I did adopt her and when I was given her file I opened it up to find a note paper clipped inside, it said “This is a snarling, hissing, feral cat.” I thought, “What?!”
I’m happy to report that I had her for years and she never, not even once, so much as hissed at me. Nothing. She is the sweetest cat. Her name is Venus. (I got to name her this time!)
Not long after that a stray had kittens under our porch and my dad got his grey cat.
We spent some time thinking up a name for him. Dad wanted to name him something that had to do with his coloring. “Grey” was out (My veto). So my Dad proposed something like “Silver” or “Quick silver.” That made me think. I said “isn’t there another name for Quick silver?” Yes. Mercury!
That’s as far as we had to go. We already had a Venus. Why not add a Mercury?
When I got married I was forced to leave Venus and Mercury behind with my Dad since my husband is allergic. Stupid Allergies!
I miss my cats so much. I wish there were a way to get my husband cured!
P.S. I feel the need to add that a few years ago my Dad purchased a gorgeous red Doberman and there was really no question at all what to name him . . . Can you guess? Mars.