Two years ago today, returning home from my birthday dinner at swanky Lee's, Lidia and I came upon our neighbours who were searching the tiny lawns in front of our townhouse. We were friendly with their two tortoiseshell cats, Daisy and Star, both of whom were preggers within weeks of them becoming regular daily visitors. Daisy had given birth a few weeks earlier, and on this very day, her daughter Star delivered. And apparently, couldn't find her litter!
I suggested Daisy would know best and that we should let her lead the way, and after she sniffed and prodded about the hedges, pointed us to the front porch of the unit two doors down. There, we found three palm-sized newborns: one ginger-hued, one a smokey grey, and the third, a beautiful tortoiseshell like her mother (and equally vocal too!).
We'd just lost our beloved tortie Molly, who developed a rare cancer at the age of 10, and while neither of us much believed in "cosmic" signs, who were we to question the universe? We put in our dibs on the tortie, I grabbed a box and a blanket for the kittens, and on Thanksgiving Day, we christened the six-week old handful "Maggie" and she joined our merry band--instantly making her older sister Minnie's life a daily ordeal.
She's two today, and while she's grown a little longer and is exhibiting some signs of her grandmother Daisy's contemplative nature (sadly, Daisy was killed by a car last month), she's just as bratty and spring-loaded as ever. So here's Maggie in a rare quiet moment (actually, she was in the middle of trying to tear my office curtains down), when I can actually capture a photo that didn't show her as a brown motion blur.
Happy birthday, dreamboat!