I have a little gardian angel that I call Daisy, although she has plenty of nicknames. Anyway, she is a ghost kitty. She only comes out if I'm alone or maybe if someone is here for several hours. I knew and loved her mother, Magic.Magic was an alley cat who was very successful. She was a prolific kitten producer. She ran her neighborhood on the mean streets in urban Long Beach where I volunteered for PAWS/LA (more later). And she had her final batch of kittens in our office. So I sort of helped Magic raise her last batch.
I handled those kittens every single day, getting them used to people so they would not be feral. They developed like polaroids before my sight. I promised Magic these kittens would be safe.
When they were just weeks old they would climb all over my shoes, batting at each other like little king kongs on the empire state building of my Nikes. Daisy only approached if I was on the floor with my toes pointed skyward. They were doing things kittens do, jumping on top of each other or crouching with wiggly butts before a chase would begin. Ahh, the wistful, baby days. They were such precious little cargoes of purr and soft fur. Little souls, or gardian angels I like to think, vulnerable to so many bad hands, screeching tires and parasites.
I found homes for them, all except the shyest, smallest one, Daisy. When all the kittens were adopted I took her home, she was just too shy. I felt the need to protect her from well, nouns.
Almost 2 years later, she spends her time divided between the closet and the bathroom, sleeping on top of my clothes hamper. Her best friend, Willa, keeps her company on the toilet seat. I know this because I find them together upon most of my visits there. I hate to displace a sleepy kitty, but nature calls.
As soon as I pet my little angel, she purrs and squirms and cranks her tail to the side -- mating position #1 -- she has a deep-throated purr I can hear across the room. This squat reminds me of her mother, that lusty, slutty mother of 9+ litters of kittens.
The whole time I knew Magic (4 1/2 years) she was either showing or delivering or nursing kittens. And she was about 2 years old at that time. When we finally shut her baby making machinery down she was pregnant again. Later, she was secretly adopted by a caring transgendered lady with a yard, thank you, Irene. I hear she runs that neighborhood too. So Magic, know your last baby is protected and safe and I promise to keep her that way.
