From commentor Gemina13:
In 2004, I lived in Brea, CA… I took the 110 (Harbor) Freeway to work and back home each day. Traffic at rush hour was usually slow torture. On July 26th, 2004, it was the hottest day of the year, with temperatures in the 90s and relative humidity. I had just mentioned to a friend that my current cat, a peach tortie named Precious, was growing old and I wanted to find a kitten to help revive her spirits (and mine) a little.
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I was driving south at about 5 mph, approaching the shoulder near Exposition, when I saw a kitten sitting on the asphalt, mouth open in a scream. I pulled over and tried to coax it into my arms, but it dove behind my rear passenger wheel. It took a big rig rolling past at 3 mph to scare the kitten into running back to me. I picked it up, and almost at once it laid its head on my chest and started to purr. I got it in the car. I checked–yep, a male. Maybe 3 to 4 weeks old. So thin his ribs showed through his fur, which was crawling with fleas. Asphalt was tangled in his coat. His eyes were almost shut due to a tarry discharge, which also covered most of his nose, and when he mewed it sounded like a rusty screen door being opened. And he would not stay in the passenger seat. I put him there and started the car up, and he wailed until I picked him up and put him in my lap. Well, I told myself, I’ll take him to the no-kill shelter near my place. Somebody’s gonna adopt this little guy. He’s just too cute and sweet.
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Was he ever. He crawled up on my shoulders, purring in my ears. Two police cruisers pulled up beside me as I drove home–both times, the LAPD’s finest burst out laughing when they caught sight of the kitten riding on my shoulder. I was just grateful not to be pulled over and ticketed for distracted driving.
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So I got to the shelter. Unfortunately, it was closed–it was only open on weekends, something I’d forgotten. Dejected, I headed for the Banfield Pet Hospital, and was met by two vet’s assistants, teenaged girls. All I said was, “I need someone to look at this–” and was met by eager squeals of, “Oh, look at him! He’s so gorgeous! He’s adorable!” Then they looked at me and said, in tandem, “You’re keeping him, right?”
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I couldn’t say anything but, “I guess I am now!”
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The vet aged him at about 4 weeks, treated him for the fleas (and urged me to bathe him as well), fed him half a can of wet kitten food, and diagnosed a broken nose along with the raging eye and respiratory infections… She asked if I had a name for him. I said, “I just realized I was keeping him!” So the vet looked at him and said, “How about Lucky?” Lucky immediately looked up at her as if to say, “Yes?” and it stuck.
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So I brought him home. My then-75 year old mother lived with me, and fell in love with the little guy almost at once. When she heard he’d been treated with Advantix, she spent all night looking in on him, terrified he’d die from it. Instead, in the morning we had a happy, loving kitten who couldn’t get enough petting, attention, and kisses. (Except from Precious, who wasn’t happy with the newcomer. The vet assured me she’d develop maternal feelings for him. Turns out those maternal feelings were more like Joan Crawford’s.)
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Lucky is still a sweet, loving cat, with the calmest nature I’ve ever seen in any feline. He loves food, but he loves attention even more. Women and girls gain his instant interest; the only men he cares for are my brothers, who adore him in turn. In fact, he so loves people that his favorite place is on a chair in front of my dining room window, where he can watch the neighbors and their kids pass by. The kids love him back, and the adults always ask me, “How’s the kitty?” The only time I’ve seen him show aggression was when a neighbor’s Jack Russell terrier approached the window, barking and growling. Lucky got up on the windowsill, put his face up against the screen, and just lashed his tail back and forth once. That was it. No noise, no nothing, but the JRT backed down, whimpered, and hurried after its owner. From that day, the terrier hasn’t come near my window if Lucky’s there.
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As for Mom, after Precious died of cancer, Lucky became her constant companion. In 2009, she was diagnosed with what we thought was senile dementia (it turned out to be stage six Alzheimer’s); the only one in the family she was truly engaged with was Lucky. She broke her hip last November, and died six weeks later; while in rehab, and then in CCU, Mom’s constant worry was for him. “Is my baby boy okay?” she’d ask — not “cat,” and certainly not “kitty.” For his part, Lucky only stopped sleeping in what used to be her room this June.
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Lucky’s six years old, in excellent health, and despite losing Mom is still as sweet and loving as ever. I used to say that if he were a child, I’d eventually have to put his picture on a milk carton, because . . . he’s just that damn friendly. I try not to think that someone just abandoned him on the freeway; I need to keep my blood pressure down.
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The first pic is of Lucky and Mom on the night I brought him home. We didn’t teach him that pose; he fell into it naturally. The second is of him with his favorite toy in the world, one of those water fountains that constantly recycles its contents. (When I first got it for him, he didn’t drink from it; he dropped into it. Yet he hates baths. Go figure.) The third is one I took of him in 2008, and yes, he’s a real ham when it comes to photographs.
Elizabelle
Lovely story. Lucky cat and family.
PS: Boo!
SiubhanDuinne
Wow. What a great story, and absolutely beautiful, adorable cat. I’m sorry about losing your mom, but Lucky must remind you every day of the love they shared. As for Precious’s maternal instincts, I LOLed at the Joan Crawford comparison. Lucky is indeed a lucky kitty, and I’m glad you and he found each other on that hot day in July.
chicago dyke
Anne, i skipped the text and just wanted to say to you on the strength of the pics: yeah, it’s hard. my father’s mother’s mother? turned her face away, from her own daughter even, at the end. this specific work of yours invokes: “!” what a wonderful photo essay. it’s like performance art, and higher.
snaveca
What a wonderful story, and how lucky Lucky is to have you there, just at the right moment.
I lost one of my kitties yesterday. She was 13. I adopted her with her sister when they were about 5 weeks old from an animal shelter in Los Angeles. They were cowering in the corner of the cage, the last of their litter, scared and shivering. Although I know the vast majority of the vet techs who work in animal shelters are caring people, the particular tech who brought them out for me was rough and uncaring.
I couldn’t walk out of there without those kittens.
And it was the best decision I ever made. Hunty and Shiva were a joy, they helped me deal with deep depression and loneliness. They used to meet me at the front door when I came home from work, and when I was at my lowest and loneliest, they were there to climb on my lap and purr and snuggle. Shiva was a stocky gal and very protective of her sister, who was quite the princess and always a lady.
I met my (future) husband 9 years ago, when my girls were 4, and he never ever stopped trying to bond with them (he used to try to pet them every single night, without fail). Sadly for them, they didn’t allow him to do more than stroke their fur for a minute or so, before they complained, growling and sniping. Mommy’s girls, I guess.
We lost Shiva three years ago to cancer. And yesterday we lost Hunter too. From the time she came home with me she always purred every time I stroked her until I put her in the carrier the last time.
It’s amazing how much joy these beautiful animals can bring into our lives, and how much we miss them when they’re gone.
J.
@Gemina13: Well, he sure is Lucky he found you. Beautiful story. Beautiful cat. (Sniff.)
Maude
@chicago dyke:
Thanks for telling this, makes me want to weep. Lucky is georgeous.
Sarah in Brooklyn
great, great story. i feel a little bit better about the world.
Mum
Beautiful photos, and a lovely cat.
I really believe that sometimes kismet brings a particular cat and a particular person or particular people together. Many years ago, while driving down a winding country road in a raging thunderstorm, I drove by what I thought was a crumpled piece of paper in the middle of the road. As I went by I noticed that the crumpled piece of paper had two eyes, two ears, and a tail. I pulled to the side of the road and jumped out to the rescue this incredibly tiny kitten, but she ran off into the woods. Luckily, for both of us, there were no cars coming and I was able to catch her before she disappeared forever deep in the woods. I already had two cats at home, but I didn’t hesitate to get a blanket out of the trunk and wrap her in it and take her home. She spent the first night, a Sunday, in the garage, in a big wooden box with a litter pan, a heating pad and a blanket, food and water. I planned to take her to the vet the following morning, but didn’t want to risk her passing on anything to the two healthy cats in the house. She was a mess. Incredibly thin, with ear mites that I could readily see, a wound of some kind in one of her back legs that I cleaned and dressed after removing the maggots, gunky eyes, and a hard and round tummy that I suspected was the result of worms. Early the next day the vet confirmed that she had everything but (amazingly) fleas. She had three kinds of worms, infections in both eyes, and horrid ear mites, and was exceedingly dehydrated. She was very tiny, but the vet felt she was about eight weeks old. She was literally hours from death when I found her, and the vet was amazed that she had even had enough energy to try to evade capture, especially as one of her back legs had a deep wound, that had only escaped having to be amputated because the maggots had eaten away the necrotic tissue.
It took a while, but we nursed her back to health, although she was never as healthy as the rest of my cats, and she didn’t live as long (15 years as opposed to 18-20). She never was able to jump as well as most cats, and drank water dozens of times every day. She was mostly white with calico markings on her head and tail, with a few orange and black spots on her body. She was the sweetest and gentlest cat I’ve ever had, and slept every night on or near my head or shoulder. Because her ears were so large in relationship to the rest of her, my kids named her Gremlin. I think they meant to name her Gizmo, but Gremlin she was.
I always had the feeling that she chose me, that she somehow knew that I would be driving down that road on that stormy day and that I wouldn’t let her get away from me.
funluvn
What an absolute beauty Lucky is!
A very lucky little boy and a very lucky you. Thanks for your story.
mai naem
@Mum: Hey, this cat deserves the Anne treatment.
OT, I am watching Mona Charen on Washington Journal. Why are so many conservative female pundits just hateful little witches and there are none on the left to match these?
Omnes Omnibus
@mai naem: Let’s be fair, conservative male pundits are hateful too.
JPL
What wonderful stories. I say stories because Mum’s story about Gremlin was similar in many ways. How many cars failed to stop and rescue such exceptional pets before you? Kismet might be the only word that describes your experiences.
Thank you for sharing and making my day a little brighter.
Svensker
That first picture with your mom and the kitty with the little pink nose and little pink toes just does me in. Thanks for a lovely morning read.
Ash Can
What a sweet kitty! This was a great Halloween treat to start the morning (and it’s calorie-free, yet).
flukebucket
Happy Anniversary John Cole
grumpy realist
Oh, those photos definitely merit a “squee!” Bless you for posting them.
R-Jud
Thanks for sharing Lucky’s story. I’m glad your Mom was able to have his company.
Anne Laurie, thanks for running this series. In my time zone, these generally come up mid-morning, and it’s nice to take a break and sit with the toddler for five minutes, looking at the pictures of people’s pets.
Today she is dressed as a ladybug. Her verdict on Lucky: “Aww, hissa good cat!”
Bill E Pilgrim
Kentucky Rand Paul guy charged with assault: potential one year in jail.
What gave me pause for a moment though was this:
Usually Parisians only do verbal stomping, unless of course it’s the police who’ve been known to do the real kind now and then.
I guess there’s a Paris, Kentucky.
debit
What a sweet boy. I really do believe they find us; 3 of our 4 cats came to our back door (in Luther’s case, he was living in our back yard). My son tells me there are people who tag houses with unsecured wi-fi. He’s of the opinion that cats do the same, like: good food, plenty of cat beds, easily intimidated dog.
@Mum: This story and Lucky’s make me wonder if I’ve driven past a creature in need and just didn’t notice. Thanks for sharing her story.
comrade scott's agenda of rage
I love these stories. Lucky came into your life for your Mom as much as for you. I’m glad he was there to make her end of life perhaps just a little bit easier.
WereBear
Sometimes I wonder if there’s a self sorting process going on; a kitten or cat who is able to reach out and beg for help is already displaying the kind of trust and affection that bodes well for their future, human, relationships.
With a kitten/older cat dynamic, the energy mismatch can be daunting. That’s why the best thing is often to get two kittens. They can play with each other, and not harass the older cat.
asiangrrlMN
This is a beautiful story. Gemina13, I am sorry for the loss of your mother. It’s really sweet how she and Lucky bonded. How fortunate for Lucky that you were driving on that road that day!
@snaveca: My condolences for your loss. It really is hard to let our furry friends go.
@Mum: This is a great story, too. I think you should send it in to Anne Laurie.
Kristine
Another lovely story. Several, in fact.
And Happy Saneiversary, John!
thalarctos
@snaveca: I’m sorry. I hope the good memories replace the sadness. You did a really great thing for Hunter and Shiva.
WereBear
@snaveca: I must have missed your post earlier; I’m so sorry for your loss.
I hope it helps to think about the many years of joy. That’s what I dwell on at such times.
Susan Ross
I am going to die from all that sweetness…and on Halloween too!
Chat Noir
These stories always make me cry even though they have happy endings with the wonderful people who rescue and care for their pets. You’re all such kind souls for taking these precious creatures into your lives when they need you most, then you give them the love and care they deserve.
Happy Halloween to my fellow Balloon Juicers.
Kerry Reid
He looks so much like my late cat, Pepe (who was actually a female). Yay Lucky!
Gemina13
::wipes eyes::
Thank you, everybody, for your kind remarks. Anne, thank you too. John, Happy Anniversary (and Happy Halloween). Hugs all around, while I’m at it.
This month starts the first-year anniversary of Mom’s decline and death, so it’s been a little hard. I was lucky in more ways than one, though: she knew me at the very end, and said goodbye; and Lucky . . . well, what can I say. I’m glad I saw him that day.
I’m leaving Arizona for Seattle next June, and taking Lucky with me. When I get a place, I’m going to try to find another cat so Lucky will have a friend. Does anyone have any suggestions for what age group I should go for–kitten, adolescent, 3 years and over? Thanks.
Gemina13
@snaveca:
:( I’m so sorry that you lost Hunter yesterday. The only downside to having cats, dogs, birds, etc., is that they don’t live long enough.
They were fortunate to have you find them. Not many people would take in three kittens at once, and fewer still would keep them all. :) Kudos to your husband as well, for perservering with them in the face of bare tolerance.
Gemina13
@Mum:
I wonder about that sometimes. I only knew, at that moment, that if I abandoned the little guy, I’d hate myself for the rest of my life.
Gremlin sounds like she was a real cutie, by the way.
Gemina13
@Svensker:
Thanks. I didn’t even know his nose was pink until the vet cleaned off the discharge. :) It’s one of my favorites as well.
gogol's wife
@Gemina13:
Sorry I’m late with this, but I loved your story. Lucky looks just like my dear departed Spanky, who also had the sweetest, friendliest disposition. He’d look like my beloved Louis too if Louis weren’t so fat! Tuxedo cats is the bestest.
Mnemosyne
@Gemina13:
I would vote for adolescent, myself. Still young enough to be non-threatening, but old enough to not need a huge amount of care from you. If you go through a rescue group or shelter, they should be able to tell you which cats will get along well with other cats.
Shell Goddamnit
Just yesterday a kitten came and asked for assistance. It was at a picnic area off the highway & had evidently been freshly dumped. We were on motorcycles, unfortunately; we tried to have a lady in a sidecar carry him just a few miles to our destination but he jumped out somewhere along the line (at low speed, and he landed in a pile o brush and was apparently okay, at least as far as they could tell at 20mph). I had no idea he’d jumped until we were already at the place, I would have gone after him if I had known! Poor little devil, he’d have been better off if we’d left him at the picnic area. A clear case of asking the wrong people for help…
Mum
@JPL:
You’re welcome.
Paul in KY
Love the picture where he’s hanging out with your mom.
Gemina13
@Paul in KY:
Me too. You can’t even see his eyes in that photo because they were almost shut from the infection, but he was a happy camper lying there beside her. And Mom was just tickled with him.
I took the picture from her chair, with Precious leaning against my ankle, growling. Definitely the most hostile declaration of love I’ve ever had from a cat.
(BTW, do you still live in KY? Mom was a Harlan girl.)