When I was not looking
But when I needed her most.
Sixteen and a half years ago after a long, hard day at work as a pulmonary fellow, an orange furball toddled into my lap.
We lived a rich life together — in Pittsburgh and then Denver.
Her loss still aches in my soul.
Several weeks ago I received a text from a friend.
Her veterinarian daughter rescued a declawed, emaciated cat and nursed her back to health. She had been a declawed barn cat (and somehow survived) and now needed an indoor home.
I wasn’t ready. I had tears thinking about it. But a few days later I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Post-call on Saturday, I drove up to Cheyenne to meet the little lady.
She was the friendliest, softest big white furball.
Fighting back tears over missing Presby, I took her home. She settled into my lap in the car, and very quickly settled in to city condo life in Denver.
Nobody will ever replace my sweet ginger cat, but I can have room in my heart to love this Western snow cat. And she makes it easy.
From living life as a declawed barn cat in Wyoming to having a view of Pikes Peak from a city condo, she seems to have adjusted just fine. She is a lovey dovey and she talks a lot with a rich vocal repertoire. She welcomes petting (and even tummy rubs), and has not uttered a single hiss since I’ve known her.
So on this Caturday, I introduce you to Ollie — because she needed a Colorado name I gave the formal name of “Olivia Holidaily” after my favorite brewery in Golden. She has joined my life at 5280.
Happy Caturday, friends.