My mom has a little tiger kitty named Leah. She came to my mother’s house as an extremely pregnant stray, and she just decided to stay. After her kittens were weaned, my mom took her to the vet and had her fixed. At that time, they guessed her to be between six and ten years old. That makes her between twelve and sixteen years old now.
This summer has been very hard on her as an outside cat, so when we were looking at our stretch of hundred degree days, I said she could come stay in my upstairs.
I think she likes it. (I just love her dark, dark eyes.)
She’s awfully sweet.
Leah has horrible allergies, and she sounded like Darth Vader when she came to my upstairs. She breathes much better now, but she’s still plagued by sneezing fits.
Poor kitty. Hopefully, as she’s inside longer, her allergies well settle down. I have the feeling she’s going to decide she really doesn’t want to go back to being an outdoor kitty but would prefer to stay an upstairs kitty.
I guess that’s fine with me. I don’t mind having an upstairs kitty.