Dear Sophie, it seems like we just brought you home from the veterinarian who spayed you and determined that you would adjust nicely to a home atmosphere. He opted not to return you to the streets where you were found fending for yourself at just ten-weeks old. I’d just lost my precious Katie—a beautiful Himalayan—at the age of seventeen and a half and I missed her so. When we were called about you, I asked, “Does she look like a Himalayan?” Dennis’s daughter, who worked at the veterinarian’s office and who had told us about you in the first place said, “Yes.” I knew she was lying, but we loaded the cat carrier into the car anyway, just in case. After all, we knew that you needed a home and we had a vacancy.
Sophie, you were the farthest thing from a Himalayan look-alike possible, but you were needy, alone, and a little frightened.
It didn’t take you long to adjust to indoor living. You bonded with our resident male cat, Winfield. I remember you rushing up to him as soon as you saw him as if you knew him. Winfield was a little taken aback by your enthusiasm, but he didn’t have a discriminating bone in his body and he welcomed you.
It took you longer to warm up to the humans in the house, but eventually you could tolerate a quick petting. You were probably five years old by the time you decided you’d like to try out a lap. Before long you were addicted, but you let us know that you still could not tolerate being picked up.
Thankfully, you’re a healthy cat. We were able to get you to the veterinarian for the rest of your kitten shots, but after that, we didn’t push it with you because the process of transporting for you was so traumatic.
Today you are a confident, self-assured cat who loves her people, her space, and her life with a few exceptions. We were able to evacuate you and Lily during the fire of 2017. But you suffered because of it. The veterinarian said you had PTSD and that’s why you were licking the fur off one of your hips. Rescue Remedy helped with that, but sometimes you’ll still become stressed and we don’t always know why. I suppose that’s because we don’t know all that happened to you in your first ten weeks on earth.
Now, Sophie, you are fifteen years old—probably born to a young feral mother cat in her second litter that year. And a good soul found you and saved you from the same lifestyle—two and three litters of kittens a year every year of your life for as long as you would live on the streets. I think you know that you were rescued and you have your sweet way of showing your appreciation every day of your life with us.
Happy birthday, Sophie and may you have many more healthy years ahead.