On August 20th, my sweet old white polydactyl said, "Well, it's been a lot of fun, but I think it's time to cross the 9th Life boundary." She was almost 18 1/2, and had done very well for years on medication for hyperthyroid, greatly exceeding the average survival expectancy for that feline ailment. In July her blood cells started showing changes consistent with certain more serious diseases, including cancer, although we didn't pursue the Big Serious Testing that might have yielded a more definite diagnosis because. . .well, jeez, she was over 18, you know? Our vet said whatever the tests were gonna show, the news would have been bad. We showered her with love for three more weeks or so and then when she stopped eating her kitty food, we gave her Nutrical and indulged her with deli roast turkey slices and--her favorite!--fresh corn cut off the cob. (Yeah, all cats love SOMETHING you wouldn't think a cat would eat. . .) When she stopped eating altogether, we let our vet gently put her to sleep.

Nature and cats don't like empty spaces, however, and just as we were beginning to think a house with only four cats was a pretty sensible arrangement, along comes a friend of mine who says a friend of his has had two cats palmed off on her by a friend of HERS, and. . .well, she has the cats two weeks and ends up in a rehab hospital and comes home in a big old heavy leg brace.

I hasten to add that her hospitalization was not prompted by the cats!

Nevertheless, now she reckons she has about enough energy and wherewithal to take care of ONE cat, so she's keeping the nine year old cat without eyes (that's another story) and needs to find a home for the 2 1/2 year old cat who steals the eyeless cat's food.

Guess who's ended up with the 2 1/2 year old cat?

Well, she's kind of a long haired kitty--that kind of coat's totally new to me! She comes with no mats at all, so I'm hoping she won't be high maintenance--I may luck out; I suspect her somewhat casual care two owners ago didn't include constant brushing. She'd never been seen by a vet and has never been spayed; never even been in heat, is what I get second hand. Well--that seems a little unlikely!

Hell, for all I know she may be in a coy, demure version of "heat" now--she doesn't yowl and roll, but she does head-butt and hiss at the same time. Stands on her back paws to thrust her little head into a waiting hand, purrs and mews--and when she's had enough, hauls off and whacks your hand. A magnificent little bitch goddess!

We went to visit the nice Kitty Doctor yesterday and Samantha tested blissfully free of nasty contagious cat diseases and got some shots, and we have a spay appointment in a little over a week. I walked out of the vet's office with the cat carrier in one hand and the box containing Akasha's ashes in the other. Jeez--full circle!

We always end up doing Baptism of Fire cat introductions in this household. Samantha's mainstreaming with the other cats now--and tomorrow a doggie comes to visit.

If cats had thumbs, they'd thumb their noses at planning.

Well, actually, Akasha *had* thumbs, so I guess I know who to blame.