In The Beginning

I've been thinking about starting a blog for Sally for a very long time but frankly never had the time to. Now that I've decided to start a family blog, I think I better go ahead and start one for her too because I can see her quickly becoming the main subject in the one meant for ALL members of our family. Not just because she has so many issues, but because she is so important to me.

So, from the beginning....

I got Sally as a birthday present in January 1995. Right before Christmas the relationship I was in had ended (rather badly) and I felt adrift, unloved and totally alone. I didn't realize it at the time but I had sunk into a major depression with a side order of wicked insomnia. I dropped out of school, stopped spending time with friends, stopped going out. In short, I became an emotional hermit and shut out virtually everyone and everything. That was back when Jennifer (my childhood friend) was going to school at CSU Northridge. She came home every weekend so we made plans to go to dinner the weekend after my birthday. I had told her that I wanted a three month old male kitten, preferably black, for my birthday. January is not the height of kitten season so when she told me she wasn't able to find anything to fit my particular requirements, it didn't come as a surprise. So that Saturday, she arrived right on time to go to dinner but she had her sister Catherine with her. Jennifer was carrying a small bag of kitten food, a small box of litter and a small litter box. Catherine was carrying a cardboard carrier. Smiling, she handed it to me and told me "Happy Birthday." I held my breath and opened the box.

My heart stopped. I was looking into the biggest, most frightened green eyes I had ever seen. Everyone thinks kittens are adorable furry little things. Not so. This one had huge ears, a pipe cleaner looking tale, was scruffy looking instead of fuzzy and looked at me as if I was the Angel of Death. That night she managed to bite my mother bad enough to require a doctor's visit the following Monday and scurried under the bed and wouldn't come out.

Over the next couple of days, I tried to get her to come out from under the bed. When I let her go, she disappear right back under it. I had to put her food and water under it so she would eat. She was extremely private about using her litter box and would stop whatever she was doing if someone walked in on her and go back under the bed so I quickly bought her a covered box.

Every day when I came home from work, I'd lay on the floor with my head under the bed and talk to her. Not baby talk, but talk like I would to another human. I'd tell her about my day, what I was thinking and feeling. I never tried to make her come out from under the bed. I wanted her to feel comfortable and safe with me. She was born wild and was rescued at approximately three months and then she was segregated from the other cats because she was so small. Her life had started out so traumatically, I just wanted her to have some peace and security.

After three weeks of her coming to live with me, I heard her purr for the first time. She was under the bed and the lights were out and she purred to let me know she was feeling more comfortable. She started playing at night and at 2:00 am every single toy seemed to have a bell! I would go sleep on the couch so not to disturb her play. Two weeks later, she came out from under the bed to greet me when I came into my room. I had to help her get used to the rest of the house (much to her dismay) but she soon became the queen of the castle.

Everything seemed fine. I took her to be spayed about two months after I got her. It cost $30. That was the last time she had anything normal...