The Long Journey I and II, by Kitty

When Mama M moved about 10 miles across town from west to east, she could not take the carport cats with her--obviously because they would not let her even touch them. So she with sadness left them at their home by the river. She did, of course, take Masky and Grisslie, the tame house cats.

She moved into her new house on February 2, 1999. On February 1, 2000, Patches from the river showed up on the new deck and looked nose to nose through the glass door at Masky. (Remember, Masky was her little sister.) 

Mama M saw her and hurried outside with a dish of food. She set the dish on the deck, but Patches would not come over and never ate the food. The next day Patches was on the deck again, but again she would not come near Mama M or the food. By the following day, she was gone. 

A year later Babe, one of the white cats from the river, showed up on the deck, nose to nose through the glass door with Masky. Mama M was amazed. Obviously, Patches, having found the new house after a year's trek across town--with no reason or logical way to know where Mama M had gone--had returned home and told Babe where she and Masky were and how to get there. Two long journeys on cat intuition! 

The Talking Cat, by Kitty

A stroke of luck came Mama M's way: A man who had adopted a yellow-and-white Persian while in college 10 years before had just learned that his 4-year-old daughter was allergic to cats. He told a friend he was looking for a new home for the cat, and the friend told Mama M, and Grisslie became her love.

The love was mutual. Grisslie would even insist that Mama M go to bed when he was ready to occupy the other side. One night when his insistence began at 9 o'clock, Mama M asked him, "Two more hours? Please?" She swears Grisslie replied, "Two more hours." (Think about it: Those words could come out of meows.)

Whenever Mama M went out of town for more than 3 days, she would board Grisslie (and Masky) at the vet's. When she would pick them up, the receptionist always reported that Grisslie "talked" all the time. 

After picking him up after the last time he boarded, Mama M let Grissle out of the carrier as usual, but he hurried to lie on the foot of the bed, where he stayed, mewing. Mama M petted him, but he was not responsive. All of a sudden he let out a loud moan and leaped off the bed. 

Mama M called the vet and rushed Grisslie back. The vet found that Grisslie's bladder was blocked. He worked on the cat all night and called Mama M the next morning to say that he had gotten him unblocked but he was blocked again. "He needs surgery," the vet said.

"No," replied Mama M. "Not at age 19." The vet suggested Mama M come see Grisslie one last time; so she did. She stroked her love and spoke gently to him, then left him to be put to sleep.

It was a sad parting, but she and the loving cat had enjoyed each other for a good life.

Tree-Climber Becomes Homebody, by Kitty

Tiger's little sister, another of Little Bit's kitties, was a domestic long-hair, mainly white but with two huge patches of black on her back and black bands around her eyes that descended down her nose and rose between her ears and on down the back of her head. Thus, she was called Mask, or more affectionately, Masky.

Masky was a friendly kitten. Though born outdoors, she was comfortable both indoors and out--until she discovered she could climb tall pine trees. One day Mama M had to get a gentleman neighbor to bring a ladder and ascend to fetch Masky out of a pine. 

A few days later, Masky climbed an even taller pine with fewer limbs. Fortunately, another cat had climbed a neighboring tree, and Mask watched as that one backed down the tree trunk like a cat is supposed to do. And, lo and behold, Mask backed down from her tree, too!

But Mama M had had enough. She took Masky to the vet to be declawed and then established her as an indoor cat only. Her tree climbing career ended, and she became a full-time member of the family!

Tiger Dies, by Kitty

Tiger was waiting in the carport for his dinner when Mama M looked at him compared to the other cats and realized that he was getting thin. So she loaded him into the cat carrier and into the car and drove to one of the closest vet offices. There the doctor on duty drew blood and told Mama M she would call when tests were complete and she could make suggestions about treatment.

The next day Mama M was petting Tiger outside when she heard the telephone ring. She hurried in and answered. 

"Tiger's kidneys are failing," the doctor said. "We can't cure him, but we can give him medicine to relieve pain." 

Mama M said that she would think about it and call back. Then she went outside to see Tiger. He was nowhere to be found. And he never returned. Somehow the sweet orange tabby knew his time on earth had ended and chose to find his own place to die.

The Champion, by Kitty

Mama M had a surprise opportunity to adopt a Grand Champion Siamese from a lady in Atlanta. When she visited to check out the situation, Robillard immediately accepted her. They left together with the owner's blessing.

Roby, as the Seal Point was called, settled into his new home in short order. He showed no signs of special conceit even though he had won the Atlanta cat show. He loved to share Mama M's bed. He loved being petted. He even loved Tiger, who had become an indoor-outdoor cat by then, and Tiger loved Roby.

A couple of years later,  Roby became sick. In the middle of the night, he coughed up blood onto the living room floor. Mama M picked him up and rocked him in her arms until morning, when she could take him to the Vet School's clinic. Tiger kept close watch from the sofa nearby.

After the vets had examined Roby, they told Mama M that he needed surgery. She agreed. Afterward, she was devastated to learn that Roby had real cancer of the stomach. They removed what they could and gave him bedrest in a cage for about a week. Mama M was allowed--even encouraged--to visit him, pet him, and show him her love.

When he had recovered from the surgery, however, she talked with one of the main vets, telling him that she could not afford to give him chemotherapy or any other major treatment. The vet agreed, particularly with the cat's being well into adulthood. 

Roby lived for about three months longer, enjoying the love and life a champion deserved. 

Homecoming, by Kitty

Early in her  professional career, Mama M and her apartment mate, Mama C, adopted an adult cat from the Richmond Humane Society. He was a beautiful, sleek, long gray male with short hair that was tipped with silver. They named him Spooky, with Richmond reminding them of the Gray Ghost of the Civil War (or Late Unpleasantness, if you wish).

Spooky was Mama C's cat most of the time, particularly during the night, when he would sleep on her bed. But Mama M was the earlier riser, and every morning when she would awaken, Spooky would be sitting on the floor beside her bed. He would follow her into the bathroom and wait for her to use the facilities. Then he would stretch his paws up as high as he could for Mama M to reach down, pick him up, and carry him into the kitchen for his breakfast. This routine continued for four years, until Mama M left Richmond to go away to graduate school.

Lo and behold, when Mama M returned for summer break and again when she returned after graduating to work again in Richmond, both times to different apartments, Spooky greeted her each morning with upraised paws as though she had never been away. What a delightful homecoming present!

The Psychic, by Kitty

A beautiful purebred black Persian named Mister joined Mama M's family, coming by adoption from Greenville, S.C. He was an active and loving son. Actually, he was the only cat at home during his life there.

One of his favorite pastimes was to sit on the counter of the lavatory while Mama M washed her face. Mister would playfully bat the stream of water coming from the faucet.

But the most memorable trait was his ability to know where he was going. 

If Mama M was going to take him to visit family back in Greenville, she would pack her suitcase, put Mister in his carrier and into the car, back out of the parking space, and drive out to the highway. Mister would not utter a sound. 

If Mama M was going to take him to board at the vet's, she would pack her suitcase, put Mister in his carrier and into the car, back out of the parking space, and drive out to the highway--exactly the same routine and route she would follow when going to Greenville. Mister knew the difference. He would me-ow loudly the whole way!