Monday, 27 October 2014

Not just a cat.

I have two cats.
Tomorrow, the eldest will be 12.
Having adopted her from a cat charity eleven years ago, no-one knew her exact age but this was the birthday we gave her.

Semi feral, nervous and skittish, she has never forgotten her alley roots.
A three kilo diva - to me and Josh loving and faithful, to anyone else a hissing cobra.
And tomorrow she will be going under anaesthetic to remove numerous blunt yellow teeth.
I feel guilty and apprehensive.
Very apprehensive.
Her name is Suki.

I've never left her at the vets before.
Despite her petite stature, nervous disposition and blunt teeth she appears to have been labelled as vicious, with vets requiring rottweiler gloves.
She won't be cooperative tomorrow.
And I won't be able to concentrate on anything until she is safely through the operation.

Josh is 22.
They chose each other.
At the cat homing fair, they bonded in the pen.
While I looked around, Josh refused to budge from Suki's pen, with Suki at his side, hissing at any cat daring to unsurp her.

Suki has seen him through school, sixth form and university.
She's been here through the arguments, laughter, and traumas.
Through Gibraltar and empty nest syndrome.
Through battles at work, Australia and readjusting.
She's empathetic, intelligent and very special.

Although maybe with less teeth she won't be rehoming as many baby rats.
I won't miss the rats.

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