Sylvia and the Kitties: Part 2

Joel came home one afternoon to find me crying. Sylvia and I were sitting next to each other on the sofa. She stared at Joel with her beautiful green eyes.

“What happened? Are you okay? Is your dad okay? Is something wrong with Sylvie?” Joel ran through all the possibilities in his mind and tossed them out in a stream of questions.

“We have to get kittens. Two. We have to get kittens today. They have two siblings they think might work for us.” I said, still crying.

“They?” “Who?”

“The Richmond SPCA. I spoke to them a few times.”

“But I’ve only been gone…”

“I don’t want to browse. I can’t browse. I don’t want another black cat, she may remind me of Martha, but I don’t think I have a choice with that, so I may cry. They will bring us directly to them. Everything's been arranged.”

“Them?”

“The sisters. There are two. We have to call Lauren. She’ll want to join us. I’ll get a carrier.” Lauren, my step-daughter is Joel's daughter.

“Just one?”

“They each weigh two pounds. They’ve never been separated. Well, except when they were spayed yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“We have to go.”

*****

They were happy, frolicking, fuzzy little balls. One, a pastel—or dilute—Tortie. She is a beautiful combination of gray, cream, and peach (non-dilutes are black, orange, and white). All Torties are known for their Tortie attitudes and there is some truth to that. The other sister is black and looks like a Bombay. Bombay kitties tend to be nosy, getting into a lot of things, all the time. There is some truth to that, but I would learn that some cats are even more curious.

It was hard to believe these sisters were from the same litter with their diverse coloring. We learned a little later that they do share one thing that none of my other kitties ever had. They both have a ridgeback when they become excited during play or happy when being petted.

The black Bombay is Martina, after Joel’s dad, Martin; Lauren’s grandad. The pastel Tortie would be Clarice, which is my mother-in-law’s middle name.

*****

We played with them at the RSPCA and had them sit in the back of the car in the carrier with Lauren. When we got home, we let them out for a little while. This is something that should not be done on a first night, when integrating kitties, but both vets suggested that Sylvia see them in action as soon as possible. We would crate them in at night for two weeks. Besides, they never noticed Sylvie, but she watched, fascinated. The same went for me. This plan was working.

Joel set up this huge dog crate I had—I received Martha and Sylvia, who were also sisters, in this crate—on the floor, next to the sofa where I would spend the first night. We outfitted the crate with a hammock from the RSPCA gift shop, a teeny litter box, and some kitten food and water.

After we let them run around, we were going to bed. Sylvia went with Joel to bed. She felt better, but she had had enough. They were like watching a swarm or rabid flies.

We put them in the crate, inside the hammock, and they were so small that they were able to curl into each other like Yin and Yang. The lights went out and I got under a blanket on the sofa.

Within minutes they began screeching and when I turned on a light, I found them hanging from the top and sides of the crate and jumping all over the crate and screaming. The scene looked and sounded as if I had a barrel of tiny monkeys trying to break free.

Tune in next time. Until then, The Tribe and I wish you love, joy, and health. We hope you consider: Are you the rescuer or the rescued?