When I first met Bartlett I already had two cats:
Zazu, a female tabby with major attitude. A true diva, she was a total slut. The minute she heard a man’s voice, even if it was the cable guy, she came tearing down to the front door from wherever she was in the house and literally draped herself around his legs, refusing to leave him alone until he picked her up and gave her a hug. And Sundance, a very handsome ginger male who looks sweet and shy, but isn’t happy unless he’s getting into trouble. He’s my juvenile delinquent.
Both were rescued. Zazu and two siblings were found on the porch of a chinese restaurant by a Vet. A friend of mine, who knew I was longing for a cat to replace one I’d recently lost after 18 years, called to let me know that she’d taken one, and there were two left. I actually wanted both, so I hightailed it to the Vet’s office, but someone had beaten me to it. Just one was left — and I immediately fell in love with her. When I arrived she was fast asleep, laying on top of a dog, who was, himself, dozing in the waiting room. Three months after I had Zazu I got a phone call from a cat rescue I’d registered with.
They had a litter of ginger kittens and there was a male reserved for me. Only days old at the time, I was told I’d have to wait two months until he was old enough to be weaned away from his mom — a feral cat who would be spayed before being allowed to roam free again. She was too old and too set in her ways to ever live in captivity, but they made sure she was healthy and unable to get pregnant before releasing her.
It never occurred to me that Zazu would be upset about having a companion. After all, she’d lived at a Vet’s for a month — and there she had everything from birds to fish to dogs and other cats for roomies. It never dawned on me that she was thrilled to leave the menagerie behind her, and loved having me — and my 3-story Continue reading