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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
I think my Gorbachev passed today.

She was perfectly fine last night, hanging around and begging for scraps as I packaged my newest order of raw meat. This morning, she was moving strangely and seemed to have difficulty breathing. She wanted to be held, which is so unlike her, and went limp when picked up.

After a moment, though, she freaked out and ran off. I looked, but couldn't find her.

I don't think I'll ever see her again.

She was a beautiful girl, not quite 3 years old, and it's not fair that she never really had a chance to live a good, safe life. She was part of a group of litters born to a feral cat colony in a parking garage that my mother and I were involved in trapping and spaying (they were ALL girls!). Those that weren't as wild, we tried to rehome, but Gorbachev, and her sister Zuzu, couldn't adjust to living indoors. Inside, they were nervous and uncomfortable, and they wouldn't settle down.

When she was a kitten, she had the funniest little black mark on her head, which earned her the name Gorbachev. It faded away as she grew.

Gorbachev loved to be scratched, but never lost her fear. She had this habit of approaching someone and arching her back to be scratched, but sort of waddling away from them while they scratched, so in order to keep scratching her, you sort of had to chase her...and if you didn't, she'd stop and turn around like, "Well...?" and if you started back up, she'd start waddling away again.

She was also an expert hunter, the terror of lizards, mockingbirds, and field mice alike. She was constantly bringing "gifts" to the porch, and although I never ate them, I do appreciate the sentiment.

Gorby's sister, Zuzu, passed about a year ago, and I hope that somewhere, they're snuggled up together again, like they always did when they were together.

Goodbye, sweet girl, I wish I could have done more to protect you.

Two Pics of my beautiful Gorby girl in her favorite tree.
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