Finding Love in NYC

Mimi ON Sep 19, 2012 AT 1:25 pm

by Chrissy Iley 

I first saw Love staring at me as I scrolled through Twitter. Love was on Death Row, Kill Listed. Love was in NYC and I was not. I look at cats on Death Row every day. I Retweet in the hope that some forlorn furriness will find happiness and provide happiness somewhere in the universe but there was something about Love’s face.  For a start she was black and white and black and white cats are what I know and love.  Her eyes were a sort of sage green.  They didn’t plead, they demanded: ‘save me I’m worth it. what’s going on?’

Love in NYC

I could see in her face that when she confronted disaster and her own demise she simply refused to believe it.  We called the centre and asked if she could be held until I could get to New York.  They said that wasn’t possible. They were overcrowded. We tried a rescue group and asked them if they would foster her.  They could only do it for days, not ten days which was the soonest I was going to be in New York on a job.

I rang, mailed and Tweeted everybody I knew in New York, including an ex boyfriend that I hadn’t spoken to for years and people I knew were allergic, but time was running out and killing starts at 6 am.  The rescue group demanded not only a name but to check out the person who would collect Love and be responsible for her until I got to New York.  As that wasn’t possible we had to assume Love didn’t make it.

Two days later we got an email from another rescue group who had stepped in that night and of the 53 cats and kittens to be slaughtered had selected Love.   They were K9 Castle and somehow they had been passed contact details and asked if we were still interested.  I cried because Love was safe even though I didn’t know her I felt connected, I felt she was meant to be in my life.

I went to New York to interview Dr Oz and while he told me cinnamon and sweet potatoes would help me live longer I felt that Love would keep me happy. Something in me needed to rescue her.  She was in Brooklyn at a pet home, held in a cage, waiting to be handed over.  She meowed loudly and in a Brooklyn accent as she was put into her American Airlines carry case. She miaowed until she got across the Brooklyn bridge.  Once in Manhattan she seemed to feel safe.  She was given extra protection from Father Paul, a Franciscan Fryer, Franciscans are known to love animals and he gave her a blessing with Holy water.  Once in my friend’s apartment she demanded food, she lounged around. She spent about ten seconds behind the couch and then must have thought better of it that she was wasting her time being a scaredy cat when she could be played with and petted and fussed over.  She’s a very confident cat.

She hissed at security at JFK but once stuffed back in her carry case she didn’t murmur.  She’s a very small cat.  The shelter had said she was 2 years old but with her big ears and paws I wonder if she’s more kitten like.  She squealed as her ears popped and we landed at LAX.  Once back in the House of Purr, West Hollywood she stretched out, explored and chirruped.  She came to bed and cuddled and demanded more cuddles and then licked with her tiny tongue that isn’t even very scratchy.

One of her pads has a heart shape on it and her markings make her look comical like a tiny cow.  She’s very loving and that’s why she was called Love, however she doesn’t answer to the name. She answers to Catniss. That’s more her personality. She is a hunter cat.  She growled from her depths when she first met Mr Love who is a cat around 4 times her size. He didn’t engage. When she saw Slut Cat (Mr Love’s mother) who is double her size she made a horrid gurgling noise.  Loves humans, hates other cats.

She’s very clever and can predict my every move.  She still miaows in a Brooklyn accent and she miaows a lot.  She complains if she’s left, she complains if she doesn’t have a selection of 15 mouse toys and she complains if she doesn’t have salmon Fancy Feast.

The first two days I looked into her sage green eyes and thought why would anyone ever dump you?  She’s a diva cat, probably the most high maintenance animals ever to come from Death Row but at least now I can look at those other cats and not feel futile. At least one life has been saved.

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