Ponderings from a Procrastinating Prognosticator

Posts Tagged ‘my girls’

National Pet Day

Posted by samatwitch on April 12, 2016

Today is – or was, since it’s almost midnight – National  Pet Day, so I’m posting pictures of my current rehomed calico, Ariana.

These are my previous fur people.

My last rehomed cat, Tabitha.  She was 10 when I got her and 13 1/2 when she died of a very fast-acting oral cancer.

Samantha at about age 17


Samantha lived to be 22.  She was my first cat as an adult. I ‘inherited’ her when she was a very small ball of fur in Trenton, ON. I had to euthanise her two weeks after her late-in-life companion, Matilda, was killed by a raccoon.  Here’s the last picture I have of both of them.

Matilda hugging Samantha

Matilda hugging Samantha

Matilda was a stray who adopted me when Samantha was 17.  Matilda had been abandoned several times within the building and had been living ‘on the streets’ when she adopted us one very cold, very rainy February night.  It turns out she was also pregnant!  Only one of the kittens survived and Miss Molly brought such joy into our lives for the two and a half years she was with us.

Miss Mollyph-10180

A few months after Miss Molly left us, I found Tabitha as a kitten, born in our neighbourhood. Years later I realised that she thought she was going to be an only child – instead she became a young companion for two older cats, one of whom (Samantha) was starting to look a bit decrepit!

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For Siberia and Jaguar

Posted by samatwitch on November 26, 2014

A beautiful story that could almost be Tabitha’s except that she had never met any of her ‘sisters’ until Monday afternoon, but I know they were there waiting for her and it was the last thing I said to her, listing their names so she would remember when she arrived.


“Look! There’s another one. Beat you good, brudder!”

“Aach…what’s the score now?”

“Three all…”

The two young cats lay on their backs in the meadow, watching the night sky for shooting stars. It was a particularly good night for them – clear and nearly cloudless, the merest hint of a breeze rustling the leaves in the tall elm under which they lay. They had been playing this game since the moon came up, revelling in the mild night air, the fragrance wafting off the grass and, above all, each other’s company.

Jaguar had been stalking shadows through the undergrowth that morning when he had suddenly stopped still and sniffed the air. There was a change in it somehow. Not a scent as such, but a change in the texture and the feel of the air in his nostrils. He rolled his tongue and opened his mouth a little, employing his…

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