I called the cat lady to find out about adoptions.
I spoke to Suely, the cat lady, and she told me Nick's sad story. He was a young orphan, that was just so sweet she couldn't release him back to the streets without trying to find him a home. Already sure I would love this boy, I made arrangements to meet her and adopt him.
My beloved and I drove down to meet her, and when we arrived were greeted with about 14 cats in her tiny apartment. There were all kinds: grey, tiger, a blind, deaf cat named Valentino who was just incredible and all sorts, in crates and out scampering about and attacking each other and the furniture in this frenzy of fur and playful claws. In the crate was a little black girl that she wanted me to meet, and her two tiger brothers; and that's how I met Princess Sophie.
I reached in, and her brothers recoiled and hissed, but she placidly accepted my giant hand around her tiny, soft form, and she lay: limp and accepting in my hand. I loved her. But she wasn't the little boy with the hard luck I had come to meet. I pressed Suely, where was the little boy? She left J and I alone as she went to another rescue to retrieve him and I and this darling Man I love played with her and the other cats: sure I would only leave with one.
When she returned with the other kitty, I was certain he was exactly what I had hoped for: scrappy, rough, and sweet. He had a large chunk taken out of his left ear by animal control when they neutered him so that they could identify him as one not requiring trapping once re-released into the wild. He looked at me with hazel eyes, pupil ringed with green. I fell in love. I knew I had to have him, but what about that sweet little girl J and I had passed back and forth. She acquiesced so readily and was so placidly sweet to us both. I relented to Suely's hopeful gaze, and said at last, 'well lets' see how they get along together'.
That's how Princess Sophie (so named for her impeccable manners, and prim mannerisms) and Nick (for his ear) came to be my newest pets. I took them home, and for two weeks trained them, watched them play and play fight, and loved them.
They slept in my bed (joy formerly denied) and they sat on my lap and purred. I taunted them with a ball of fur on a fishing pole toy that they both chased. Sophie was the killer, Nick always seemed a bit 'slow', like he still needed his mom and was orphaned too young. He would knead the ground in front of the water bowl as he drank, and was generally less coordinated than the Princess. They got along well, and we enjoyed our peaceful existence. Until one day, I came home from work and Nick just didn't look right. I should probably mention here that I work: a lot. I have two jobs and go to school. Some days I get home very late, and on this day, I had just finished working three double shifts in a row.
That didn't stop me from noticing how lethargic Nick looked. And even at that late hour, I sent J a text saying that I was concerned about the little guy. He woke me up at 04:00. Somehow, he had climbed into bed with me, and mewed piteously. He barely purred, though he did. And when I woke and turned on the light, I knew he was likely dying. I texted J again, saying that little Nick didn't look good, and I tried to get him into a comfortable position. He was so gaunt: so cold. I was afraid he would die. I went to work at 06:00 because I just couldn't go to sleep; I didn’t have a vet to take him to, nor could I justify just staying home with him. So I put him into the carrier Suely gave me when I adopted him, and took him to work to wait until a vet opened.
I texted J (while he slept) that Nick likely wouldn't be alive when he again returned, and I had tears in my eyes when I looked at Nick valiantly trying to lift his head and meowing weakly at me. I called several vets, and left messages on their answering machines. I thought he had feline distemper (also panleukopenia). Finally around 08:00 a vet called back, and I brought him directly over. I gave the whole story to the vet, including my preliminary diagnosis (yes, I really am qualified, but let's not get into this here) and they took him away.
The receptionist returned to say the doctor didn't think it was distemper and wanted to test for feline AIDS, and leukemia. I replied: 'why not test for what I think it is first and then test for the other stuff' (I don't work two jobs because I'm independently wealthy and lost everything in my divorce). She insisted that the doctor seemed certain and I agreed to the other tests. The panleukopenia test needed to be sent out, so there was no quick screening for it. They brought me back into a room.
I waited for a few minutes, by now J was awake and we were exchanging texts in our characteristic fashion, and I sat, curled in a ball, and waited for the doctor.
She came in several minutes later with the dreaded news. I dealt with a bunch of other unpleasantries after that including the testing for rabies, as we couldn't be certain that that didn't kill him (and expose me to risk) and I dealt with the remaining horrors of that day. I returned home without him and Sophie looked and looked for him: calling for him and looking in the closet, where they had both hid when I brought them home at first from the rescue. She started destroying the toilet paper and I sent word to J, that as much as I didn't want to just 'get another cat' I felt Sophie needed a companion for her own sanity, given my hours.
That was when Suely called again and I told her the terrible news, and we both cried and cried over that sweet baby. 'Was I ready to adopt another?', she asked. I was sure I needed another kitty; not for me (Sophie was entirely wonderful), but for Sophie who really would lose her mind if left alone.
That was how I came to meet the Tigrikiisu.
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