Driving north, the green freeway signs continued to pass
on my right, assuring me the small town my new boyfriend lived in was getting closer.
I might have been a touch nervous. My first visit to his place and I had heard all about the other woman who lived there.
Word on the street was how fiercely she ruled the nest. Supposedly, it could get downright nasty if her claws were out. She never hesitated to tell any female exactly what she thought of them.
I wanted none of that.
No way was she going to interfere with my first visit to my new man.
Whipping my li'l white car into the driveway, turning the engine off, grabbing my purse, stepping out and squaring my shoulders. I climbed the stairs, determined.
A single knock on his door and there he is. Leaning in, he tries to kiss me. No.
"Where is she?"
"What?"
"You can have a kiss after. Where is she?"
"Oh. She's over there, on the couch."
Without hesitation, I walked away from him and over to her.
Holding out my hand to her, I waited.
She sniffed. She gave me the eye. She opted to play coy and appear bored.
But, I knew. I was in.
You see this sweet, nearly twenty year old kitty?
This is Bonnie, the other woman.
Legend has it, before I came into the picture, this sweet, innocent looking cat would hiss and spit at any female that came over. And I'm not a fool, I knew who's fur not to ruffle. While she merely tolerated me in the beginning, there was never a hiss for me and ultimately, she came to know where to get the best cheek scratches.
On January 16th, Bonnie passed away in my husband's arms, just like her
brother did three years ago. This photo was taken two days before she left us, happily soaking up sunshine.
We miss her. But, there are so many sweet and often silly memories with this li'l nine pounder. She was a Manx/Siamese/Tabby mix and high on personality.
In her younger years, you had to keep your eyes peeled with this one. She was the original Stealth Kitty and could jump up, cross your lap and steal a piece of pepperoni off the slice of pizza in your hand and you would never know - until you looked at said toppingless piece.
Bottlecaps were prized kitty toys.
There was never a sun's ray she didn't like.
The same kidlet who sent her running for the hills when he learned to walk as a tyke later became her best buddy to hang with. They were amazing calming forces for each other and in her last year, when arthritis was hitching her hips, he was her own personal physical therapist getting her to go on "Walk Races" back and forth, until she no longer limped - every single day.
And she was the bomb at the photobomb and never failed to get in on everything I snapped out on her deck.
We love her. We miss her. We happily remember her.
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