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| Name: |
Lily Ann
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Age: |
Unknown
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| Gender: |
Female
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Kind: |
Lynx-Point Tortoiseshell
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| Home: |
Escondido, California, USA
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I
got Lily Ann from the local shelter on Lincoln's birthday in 2005. The
Humane Society said she was five, but my vet said she was two or three. So she's
somewhere between nine and twelve years old now. She was skinny - 7 1/2 pounds -
and beat up when I got her; she'd been a stray, and had been declawed in
front, so she couldn't defend herself. She had lots of scratches. Since
she'd been declawed, I wondered how she got any food; I found out - for
several days she turned over every waste basket in the apartment several
times a day. Shortly she learned that she'd always have food available, so
she stopped that behavior on her own. She's now eleven pounds; the vet said
she's not fat, she's "substantial." I can leave the door open, but she's
totally disinterested in going out. She's been there, done that!
Lily is an only pet; she didn't like the other cats at the shelter and is
grateful, I think, to have her own space. Lily Ann has a very tiny
high-pitched meow. She's not terribly talkative, but says whatever she
needs to say. She's the first cat I've had who doesn't purr. The vet
listened to her with his stethoscope and said she was purring, but very
softly. I still haven't heard it, but I see her sides going in and out
more rapidly than for breathing when she's particularly satisfied with
life. She's not a lap cat, either.
But she stays close to me much of the time. Since I'm supposed to have my
legs up much of the day, I have ottomans for several chairs. But they're
not for my feet after all; they're her resting places, always the one in
front of the chair I'm in. She loves to be brushed, which is a good thing,
because she sheds a lot. She used to play quite a bit, but now that she's
a senior cat, like her staff - me - she's perfecting her naps several
times a day. She loves to be in my - er, our - bed, especially when it's
got clean linens, the day I do my laundry. When I'm in bed, she stays on
top. When she wants me to turn on the water in the bathtub, she summons me
by knocking things over on the counter, until I hear the commotion. Then
I'll go in and turn on the water, just enough for a steady stream, but not
too much to splash her.
Her attachment to me and her affection are unmistakable. When I'm not
feeling good, she's with me all the time. She sleeps on the bed with me;
she's on the corner facing the door; she's my protect-cat. At first she'd
nip me a bit if she didn't want me to pet her or I did something that was
uncomfortable. But that has long since ceased. To let me know she's
unhappy, or I've done enough, she'll barely touch me with her teeth, but
she won't bite...ever.
Lily is wonderful company, and we've learned to deal with each other's
quirks and oddities. She's taught me how to make the bed by putting the
sheet and blanket OVER the pillows; that way she can crawl in during the
day and sleep between the sheets and against the pillow, even in summer;
she gets in and out without mussing the covers at all. Lily a sweet and
gentle soul. When she's not in the bed, she'll get under blankets or
throws. I have throws over two chairs, and, occasionally, when I don't
notice a lump there, I'll start to sit down, but, for a senior, I move
pretty fast when I feel a lump. Here's to you, Lily Ann, my dear companion!
See more images of Lily Ann!
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