Cat's Who've Owned Me: Sally and Felicity

Sally was a stray who adopted us, a petite, short-haired calico.  We didn’t have her long, less than a year.  She got sick and went quickly before we could get her to the doctor.  It's sad to not know what happened.  

Felicity was my roommate.  She was a shelter kitty; I couldn’t resist the long calico coat and the big eyes.  Unlike Lucy, she did not like her trip home in the car – it’s a LONG way from Lathrop to Turlock when you are trying to keep a frightened baby in your arms and keep from killing yourself in traffic at the same time.  But we made it, and we settled into each other’s lives quickly.

I was still living at home.  Christina and Lyle were small, and Mom and Dad had a pug named Holly who decided a cat was not to be tolerated.  Needless to say, my bedroom became Felicity’s entire world.  We were two single chicks happy to share the same digs.  And then I got married.

After the honeymoon, I brought Felicity to the house on Lewis Street, hoping she would have an easy transition.  Yah, not so much.  She hid under Ademar’s bed for a couple of days.  Mom offered to take her back and  I cried when I dropped her off.  After that tearful night, whenever I visited, she ran through the house to my voice, jumped on my lap and demanded a good petting (Holly had passed by then, so Felicity had the run of the house). 

As she got older, I guess she developed some bad habits (marking her territory, shall we delicately say), and had to be put down.  She was a beautiful girl and I have a lot of good cuddling memories.