It happened one bright morning last year just before Thanksgiving when Carol and I were assisting Carol's Spanish teacher on a project at the train station here in Granada. With dozens of people milling about, she bolted from a hiding place under a table and made a beeline straight to Carol. She must have sensed that Carol is a cat lover. Our estimation was that she was only 4-6 weeks old and barely alive, mostly bones, fur and big ears. She was so hungry that she tried to eat a leaf.
Carol scooped her up into her lap and held her for at least an hour until we were able to leave and go home. For the next two days, she did nothing but eat and sleep. Carol decided to call her Sophie.
She had a terrible red welt around her neck where someone had once either tried to hang her or drag her around on a string. We doctored her, cared for her, let her sleep with us in our bed. For something so small and frail, she purred like a Detroit diesel.
Her arrival was met with a mixture of reactions by our other two cats. Mena, the small calico mother of Flaco, wanted nothing to do with her while Flaco, twice the size of his mother, but with the tolerance and patience of Job, tacitly put up with her kitten exuberance and would occasionally actually play kitty games with her. She quickly became one of us.We rescued Mena and Flaco almost three years ago while we were still in Costa Rica. They had survived a terrible earthquake and eruption of the Poas volcano, not very far from where we lived. There was actually a third member of the troop, Poco, Flaco's brother, whom we lost shortly thereafter to poison. We felt that Flaco truly accepted Sophie as a substitute for his lost brother. Mena, we have determined, just doesn't like any other cats, period. Not even Flaco, whom she constantly swats in passing.
We watched with amusement as Sophie grew bigger and stronger with each passing day. Fearing no one or nothing, she would torment Mena with her kitteny ways, often resulting in a minor skirmish with Mena beating a hasty retreat down the stairs after which Sophie would turn her attentions toward Flaco, ambushing him at every turn. Being three times her size, Flaco would give her the "you've got to be kidding me" look while he calmly brushed her aside. Later, we noticed that Sophie began to copy Flaco's habits, the way he ate, the way he walked. Flaco became her hero but she continued to sleep with us in our bed, something the other two were reluctant to do. In fact, the bed became her favorite playground. We would be awakened each morning with Sophie attacking our feet through the covers.Whereas Mena possesses a rather dour personality and Flaco has the aloofness of a typical teenager, Sophie was all about "let's play." She was a happy kitty who loved us with all her heart as we grew to love her. She became a very special part of our lives.
We tended to her needs, got her inoculations when they came due and she prospered. The skinny legs began to fill out, she gained weight, developed the smoothest coat, and finally started to grow into her large ears. Every day was a joyous delight and we learned that whatever trials and tribulations we might encounter were easily offset by her antics. She seemed to know when we wanted to cuddle, when we wanted to play, when it was time to sleep.
She matured. We noticed signs a couple of weeks ago that she might be coming into heat so we made arrangements to have her spayed. A simple procedure done thousands of times every day, all around the globe.
But this time in this place, something went terribly wrong and we lost her. This loss has left us with a near unbearable empty place in our home, our bed and our hearts.
