I was a little late due to a morning singing rehearsal for a one-time choir thing I'm doing (not part of Chorale) and when I got there, Diane was busy chatting with about twelve different people at once. I set my Starbuck's on the table, locked my purse up in our supply cabinet, and set out to say good morning to our charges. As ever, some I knew, some I didn't.
I saved our temporary cages for last--the cages we put out on Saturdays only, to show off cats that are brought in for the day by their foster families. I cooed over a litter of five that were there last time I helped out (they're teensy and oh-so-cute), and two slightly larger kittens named Spot and Sophia. Then I turned my attention to the cage on the very end.
I paused.
Waitaminute...
Diane was talking to someone, but I couldn't help myself.
"Diane, I'm so sorry to interrupt...but is that...I know that face. Is that...?"
"Oh, that little girl is one of Debbie's fosters, her name is--"
"Lucy?" My voice was fast and high-pitched, as it often gets when I'm excited.
"Yeah, her name's Lucy."
"That's my Lucy! I'd know that face anywhere!!"
The bad news is that the adoption for Lucy fell through--the potential cat mom is a college student living in student housing, who can't afford to move out yet. If she takes Lucy home to her dad's house, his girlfriend will get rid of Lucy. So Debbie decided it was in Lucy's best interest to go back on the adoption market. I'm sad for my little furry friend, my sweetest little Lucy-lou, that she hasn't yet found her happy ending, but oh, how sweet it was to see her.
She was nervous being at PetCo and spent most of the day burrowed under a towel in her cage, but she purred for me and let me cuddle her. I know, logically, that she doesn't remember me...but there's a small part of me that likes to pretend that maybe she does, deep down. She's still on the small side--she was the runt of the litter--and I think she'll always be petite. You can see, though, that she's grown into a pretty little feline.
And just in case you'd forgotten how adorable, how sweet, how full of sass and charm she was as a tiny kitten in my bathroom, well, here's a reminder:
(It turns out that what I always throught was a stubborn bit of dirt on her nose was, in fact, something that would darken into a charming gray beauty mark.)
Lord knows I loved all of my little Peanuts, but Lucy was always the kitten that could have tempted me to break my two-cats-only rule. The wee girl was so full of curiosity and affection. She was the first to make a run for it out of the bathroom, the first to purr, the first to introduce herself to Millie and Harley (and the big 13-pound lug, if you'll recall, always ran under my bed). She was able to keep up with her larger brothers and hold her own when it came to getting her share of Tuna Time. She talked constantly ("Mew! Mew! Meeeeewwww!!!") whenever I was in the bathroom and ran around the 2nd bedroom like she owned the place.
I try not to play favorites, but I'm not gonna lie. I have a soft spot a mile wide for this little girl. I have very high hopes that her longer wait for a forever home means that someone really, really special is out there just waiting to find her.
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