With fingernails that shine like justice...

and a voice that is dark like tinted glass, she is fast, thorough and sharp as a tack. She is touring the facility and picking up slack...

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Ivy 1989 - 2007

Just over 18 years ago, I bound down the stairs of our apartment building, late for work. My foot hit the last step and I heard a noise. There was a rustling and a mewing, coming from the bushes adjacent to the bottom of the stairs. I bent down to look, just as a tiny head popped up from underneath a huge variegated ivy leaf. "Well, hello there!", I said.

It was a tiny, grey, tabby kitten tangled among the vines of the ivy bushes. I didn't hesitate. I scooped her up and she mewed again, licking my fingers, purring. I turned it over to see what we had, giving her belly a scratch. It was a girl. I turned and walked back up the stairs. A few more minutes late wouldn't make a difference.

I rang the doorbell and Soon-to-be-Hubs opened the door, perplexed as to why I was standing there. I held out the scrawny grey rag to him and said, "Get some litter, a box, and some Kitten Chow....we're keeping her. Her name is Ivy...'cause thats where I found her."

My friend passed away this morning. She waited until I got up to check on her to say goodbye. I stroked the soft fur of her head, scratching behind her ears like she liked me to do. She gave one last quiet mew and left us.

Goodbye, Old Bitchy Kitty, I love you.

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