Pets

She was born to a semi-feral mother who was more than likely FIV+ or Feline herpes+. The mother was nominally attached to our neighbors on the right who had cats and never spayed or neutered, so the cats ran loose and bred at will. The mom was a colorpoint shorthair, cream-colored and blue-eyed with lovely red points on her legs, face, ears, and tail. She was also untouchable. Her eyes ran constantly and she squinted all the time. We never knew how much she could see, and we called her Bartima, for the blind beggar Bartimaeus in the bible. We fed her on occasion.

Our kitten was one of two born to Bartima in the neighbor's carport (we think, but were never sure). At some point, she moved them into our carport, so I took pity on her and fed her, which was probably a mistake, but I hoped to trap the kittens and either keep them or take them to the shelter if (big if) I could get them away from Bartima. One afternoon my late ex accidentally ran over one of them. Bartima let out the most unearthly wail I've ever heard, picked up the kitten, and carried it off. Then she came back for the other and carried it away. Late ex felt absolutely horrible. She carried that dead kitten around for several days, grooming it when she laid it down, tucking it in beside the other--you can never tell me cats don't grieve. Finally she seemed to realize that it was never getting up again and left it behind. We picked it up and buried the poor little thing. By that time I felt responsible for the other one, so when I deemed it old enough I caught it and brought it in. It was a female, a blue-eyed little girl with a blue patch on her head that faded over time--a sure sign that she was a hybrid and wouldn't be deaf. We called her BT, short for Blue Top, and did our best to love the feral out of her, got her vaccinated and all that good stuff, but she was short of being spayed (they only did at 6 months+ back in the day) when she got out and got pregnant (sigh). Anyway. We got her spayed after that.She would curl up beside you but never on your lap, and she would sleep at the foot of someone's bed, never snuggled up, no matter how much we tried. She got along fine with the dog we had then, who was very good with cats, but when that dog died, several months later we brought home a foundling puppy. She took one horrified look at Annie, bolted out the door like shot from guns, and refused to come in ever again, no matter how hard we tried. She became a street cat like her mother and eventually moved around the corner and down that block, next door to a classmate of my daughter. When my daughter saw her and told her friend who she was, the friend asked her mother to buy cat food, so I guess BT was more or less taken care of after that.