Fluff, Fluffy Mama Kitty, Mama Kitty, Mama, Mama-Meme, Pretty-Pretty, Pitysing, Pretty Mama…How many names do you need for one cat? Sometimes I think the more names you have for someone or something the more love you feel. Mama Kitty had a lot of names and was loved as much.
We found Fluff at the Animal Shelter after The Girl’s cat, Sunshine, was run over by a tow truck whose driver never stopped to see what the matter was. My five year old daughter was as crushed as the cat and what made things worse is that Sunshine was expecting kittens. You could see the forms of the kittens kicking and writhing inside her as she died. But she was a couple of weeks away from delivery, so there was really nothing we could do. We took the body to the animal shelter where the kids were determined to pick out a new kitten.
Before we even looked around, I noticed the cage that held The Mama. There was a big sign on it proclaiming “Free today only”. Upon reading the smaller print we discovered that she was to be euthanized the following day. The kids did not want to get her at first because they were determined to have another kitten. After all, kittens are fun and cute. The Mama was VERY pregnant. She was due in about a week, so adopting her would mean an immediate family of several kittens. I tried to explain this to the kids, but they insisted on looking around first.
There were many cute multi-colored kittens waiting at the shelter to be adopted, but I was as determined as they were. I wanted the Mama. Mama was the cat I always wanted. She was marked as a Himalayan. A beautiful warm beige coat with dark brown or chocolate mask, feet and tail. I don’t know if she was a “pure -bred” cat who happened to be ruined by mating with a stray or if she was just an unwanted pregnant female who looked like a pure bred. I think she was pure because of the kittens she had.
I finally talked the kids into getting her and we took her home in a box where we let her out in the living room. She dove under the desk and stayed there for one full week. When she came out, she roamed the perimeter of each room skittishly. She found the food and milk we had put out for her and we all stayed very still, whispering quietly, “Pretty Mama,Pretty Thing, Fluffy Mama.”
One afternoon she escaped outside and into our neighbor’s garage to have her kittens. He graciously agreed to keep a small utilities meter door opened between our houses, so the cat could come and go. After about a week of calling her and leaving food closer and closer to our house for her to eat, she came home carefully dragging each kitten into the corner of a bedroom closet where we had made a little bed for her.
One by one we were awed by each little soft-furred baby. She brought in three grey striped kittens each one with blue eyes, the longish hair, and under tones of the Himalayan. One of the three was a large male with white boots. The fourth one was a redheaded tortoise shell who we all oohed and ahhed over because she was different. The fifth one was dead and looked much like the three grey ones.
The Girl decided to keep the redheaded one because she was afraid no one would want such an ugly cat. We gave away the others to good homes after six weeks of playing and adventure. We fed and loved the Mama being gentle and kind to her until she trusted us enough to relax.
Soon she was in heat and being courted by a big brawny part Siamese male. He would come scratching and meowing at our door as if to say,”Is Mama home? Can she come out?” She would go out to meet him flicking her tail and presenting herself to him. They would mate fervently for a few minutes after which the cat would roll around on the sidewalk meowing and purring simultaneously. The big male would stand and wait for her to finish her display before beginning the mating ritual again.
By now she was fully a part of our family. She had the run of the house, open feeding, and her own brush for grooming. She loved the brush and would allow an hour or more of grooming until she couldn’t stand it and would let you know by quick flicks of her tail and a bite on the hand if you weren’t observant.
She was sweet and beautiful and well-loved. She had her second litter in our bedroom closet in a box full of old blankets that I had set up for that purpose. We mostly left her alone for that birth but occasionally I would peek in and see what was happening.
She had three beautifully marked females similar to the grey striped kittens from her first litter and one HUGE male with Himalayan markings. “We’re keeping him!” I announced when I came out of the bedroom. After the second litter we decided to have her spayed.
She lived a very healthy life with the exception of an injury she received when The Boy and one of his friends were playing “Doctor” with her and took her temperature anally with a stick. She had some internal damage and was very sick for a couple of weeks but was revived after a visit to the real vet. Needless to say, The Boy “got it good” with my own version of the stick used in a more appropriate manner across the buttocks.
Mama lived eighteen years of blissful cat life, sitting in the sun in the summer, sitting in front of the heater in the winter, sleeping with family members in our beds, being brushed, petted on demand, given tuna juice from the can, blinking her cerulean blue eyes, and purring loud enough to hear across the room.
She lived happily until yesterday when my big burly bearded husband sobbing uncontrollably took her emaciated body to the vet to be put to sleep. Her kidneys had stopped functioning, she had lost a lot of weight, she was weak and failing. It was time. She had to go. It was the right thing. We wanted her to die with dignity. She purred right up until the end, the sweet thing, the Pretty Mama….
(Written 1/21/96)
