life in and around NYC is insane

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Losses big and small

Back in 2001, our household had three cats.  There was Maggie, a lovely gray cat with Russian Blue in her genes.  There was Felix, Maggie's brother, black on tan stripes with white paws.  And there was Daisy, all 6 pounds of her, white fur with gray markings.  She was a real sweetie.

One day, in early September, my sister thought she saw Daisy on the backyard deck.  Closer inspection revealed that it wasn't our Daisy, but rather, a very young kitten with similar markings.  When my sister called "Here, kitty, kitty," the cat came right to her. 

We live about 1/2 mile from a pond, a nature preserve of sorts, where people have been known to dump their unwanted cats.  As a result, there's a small colony of feral cats living at the pond.  We assumed that the kitten was not feral, but had been abandoned at the pond, because it was friendly and wanted to be with people. 

Of course my sister started feeding the kitten. 

So of course the kitten chose to stay around our house. 

Eventually we realized the kitten was a male.  By then, he was used to being called "Kitty", so my sisters decided his name should be "Mr. Kitty".   The vet said he was about 4 weeks old when he found us.

And despite my mother's protestations that she did not want another cat, Mr. Kitty became a part of our family.  Yes, he was a self-rescued kitty, wasn't he?

And my father?  He kept saying he liked dogs, not cats.  But when Mr. Kitty came to the dinner table begging for scraps, he always went straight to my father, and my father gleefully fed the cat.

Here's blog post I wrote awhile back, with photos of Daisy and Mr. Kitty.  You can see how similar the markings were.


Mr. Kitty and Daisy


Well, eventually  we lost Maggie and Felix.  Then our other self-rescued kitty, Redford, joined us just a short time before we lost Daisy. 

So for the past 5 years, we've had the two boys...

Mr. Kitty fell ill in December. And we knew it was not good.

And when veterinary science has reached its limits, no amount of love or prayers can keep an old, sick cat alive. 


And this loss is felt even more keenly, coming as it does on the heels of other, much larger losses. 

You couldn't ask for a more loving or loyal cat than Mr. Kitty.








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