Scrappy and mean, but full of love

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 05/06/2023 (1168 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

One day, about five and a half years ago, I was scrolling through Instagram stories when I saw a random post from a friend who was trying to help a couple rehome their cat. She shared a picture of a cute little senior calico with splotches of white, black and orange fur, asking if anyone wanted to adopt a new friend.

The post seemed desperate. Rehoming senior cats isn’t the easiest thing to do. I felt a twinge of guilt as I swiped past the kitty’s photo. Though it was cute, and I like cats, I don’t want to have one as a pet. It’s a big responsibility, and one of my kids is allergic.

However, as fate would have it, the next day my sister and I were talking. She had just gone through a breakup and somewhere in that conversation she proclaimed that she is done with relationships.

“Eff it, I am getting a cat,” she said.

I’m not even sure how serious she was, or if she was saying this in jest.

“I just saw a cat on Instagram that needs a home,” I told her.

Not long after that conversation my sister had a new furry roommate. The cat from the Instagram post’s name was Kiesa. She was a snobby cat who was kind of mean and didn’t like children. She shed a lot and kept to herself, usually nestled into a corner on the bed or sofa, and she hissed at children if they got too close.

Sometimes she hisses at them even if they didn’t get too close. She made her disdain for children known, but there was also a sweetness to her.

It was no wonder that when my daughter was a toddler and you’d ask her what sounds cats make, she would hiss at you, because that’s what she honestly thought they all did.

My sister fell in love with the scrappy little misfit cat that smelled like an old fur coat, she’d say.

They became a dynamic duo and my sister really leaned into the whole cat lady thing. (And I mean that with the utmost respect. It’s a real good quality when someone treats animals with so much care, love and kindness. Our pets and the relationship we have with them are special.)

When the pandemic hit, the two were locked away in her apartment together. Though obviously a cat isn’t a good conversationalist, it was nice to have someone to be with in the loneliness and isolation of the lockdown.

When my sister got a job offer in Vancouver in the fall of 2020, she packed only her most important belongings and little Kiesa into her SUV, and the pair trekked across four provinces on a road trip listening to The Chicks on repeat. (Apparently Earl’s Gotta Die was the only song that would pacify the little cat and make her stop yelping.)

It was a big adventure and a new beginning for the dynamic duo. The past few years in Vancouver have been good.

A cat’s typical life span is 12 to 18 years, and Kiesa was well into her golden years at 17 when her health began to steadily decline. (Apparently this is the equivalent of being 84 in human years.) At first my sister did all she could to prolong Kiesa’s life comfortably. This is what you do for the ones you love, after all.

Sadly, last week it was time to say goodbye. My sister cradled the tiny cat and let her go over that rainbow bridge at the vet’s office in the wee hours of the morning. It was humane and gut-wrenching all at the same time.

They had nearly six years together and went on one helluva an adventure when they moved to the mountains. They were companions and by serendipity they found each other when they needed one another most.

It’s tough to say who rescued who.

shelley.cook@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter @ShelleyACook