When You Know Cats

Cats.  I've had lots and lots of cats.  How many?  Well, I don't exactly know, and I sure can't name them all, even though I did give them all names.  Many stand out in memory like Tuppence and Tom Good and their mama Kibby Nell and Kibby's dad Ebenezer.  Like the abandoned cat called Ira Haze who had a troubling issue that I won't even go into; I found him a good home anyhow.  Like Boris and Henry the Navigator and Tuck and Peck and Texas and Winnie Esmeralda.  Lots of cats.

At the top of the list is the eternal-cat-of-my-heart Ivy.  A holy terror if there ever was one, Ivy loved me but Only me.  She guarded and protected me always.  I miss her every day.  Then there was sweet Buzz, gentle and good and worried, who suffered terribly with illness.  Ivy pretended she hated Buzz but when he died, she was so grief-stricken that she slept in the litter box for two weeks.

But "to cap the globe" (to borrow one of my Nana's expressions), there is Daisy.  There is absolutely no explanation for what is going on with her right now.  I sure can't, and I know a few things about cats.

By her own choosing, Daisy is back at her personal desk in my office.  (Pardon the mess, I'm re-organizing stock.)

Daisy, as I've related before, abandoned the house couple of months back.  She insisted that she had to live on the screen porch, so I let her move out there.  She wanted very little to do with me either.  In fact, she did not appear to recognize me most of the time.    I really thought she had gone out to the porch to die.  (A family dog did something similar years ago.)  In fact, Daisy became very, very ill but, because of her temperament and my budget, there was no vetting for her.  I was doing all I could but the situation truly appeared to be hopeless.  The only choice left was to give her to God, so that's what I did with my whole heart.

Well, God seems to have handed Daisy back to me.  Last week, she asked to come into the house.  And every day since, Daisy has made return visits, sometimes staying for hours.  She recognizes me now.  She's just as demanding and difficult as she ever was, and I welcome that.  Daisy never was a push-over.  That's what has always made her fun.....and a pain in the you-know-what.  I like "vinegar cats" best. (That's another of Nana's expressions; she liked sassy cats as much as I do.)

I have no idea where we are going from here.  But I think I'll just give that to God, too.  And I'll be grateful for each day.

Life is good.