A Tale of Two Kitties

This is Kitty.

Kitty was found in a box outside a Tallahassee Emergency Room in October 2007, and we took her in.

On her second or third night at our house, Tyler came over.

Baby Tyler with Baby Kitty, October 2007.

After about an hour, everything got reeeal quiet. We couldn’t hear Tyler OR the cat. Then we saw that the bathroom light was on and the door was shut.

Uh-oh.

We opened the door to the bathroom to find Tyler giving the cat a “welcome home bath” in the toilet. With hand soap. The cat’s face said, “TAKE ME BACK TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM. I LIKED MY CHANCES BETTER THERE.”

Hear no Kitty, see no Kitty, speak no Kitty. November 2007

To her credit, the cat didn’t scratch, bite, or even hiss at Tyler. And that was kind of her schtick for the next four years. She wasn’t super-friendly, but she was never mean or aggressive. After she was fixed, she became predominantly an outdoor cat, only coming inside for meals and brief visits. She was petite, but quite a fighter, and rarely was seen without some fresh oozing injury. She moved with us in April, and again after the fire, and again in November, always with the same calm detachment. 

Last Wednesday, December 21, Hollyn found her unresponsive on the pool deck in the rain. I met Jason at the vet’s, and could tell that the situation was grave. The vet told us that we could spend $400 – $500 on diagnostic tests to determine precisely what happened to her, and another goodness-knows-how-much in intensive medical interventions, but it wouldn’t change her prognosis, which was b-a-d. He said he believed she had a saddle thrombus (clot) which led to a massive stroke and hypothermia. She was so cold, in fact, that she was no longer registering a temperature. He recommended that we put her to sleep, and quickly, because she was having seizures and suffering.  

It was upsetting, but definitely the right choice. 

A few days later, on Christmas Eve, Jason (a.k.a. the big softy) and I went to the animal shelter, alone, “just to look.” Turns out, they were having a sale of sorts. You know I can’t resist a sale, and a friend pointed out that we’d be saving the life of a kitty at Christmas – and what’s more gratifying than that?

So we surprised the kids with this 2-year-old ginger boy: 

Same chair, different cat.

I wanted to name him Prince Harry, but eventually we settled on Ron Weasley after an immediate veto of “Garfield.”

He’s remarkably different than Kitty. He is playful and sweet and talkative, as opposed to reserved and aloof and vaguely offended. 

He’s settling in well at our house. The first night was a little rough, but after we convinced him to stop screaming meows throughout the house, he did fine and we haven’t had any problems since.

Welcome to our family, Ron!

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