The Pet Life: A Tale of Two Kittens

Hello Darling,

In order to tell Casper’s story, we have to go back to 2011, when Casper’s name was Purdue, I lived at my parent’s house, and I hadn’t known Joe, yet.

I was in college at the time, which was only a few blocks from the local humane society. I found Purdue and Emory on their website. These two, big eyed, frazzled hair, tiny, calico kittens. They were the only two girls of a litter. The humane society didn’t have information about the mother, and their story sounded grim, as many rescue cases do.

After classes one day in October, I stopped by to see them in person. I inquired about them at the front desk where a young volunteer sat. She at first told me there weren’t any calicos for adoption, and she seemed very certain. I began to get my phone out to show her the photos on their site of the girls, and I said their names aloud. That was when suddenly the other volunteer at a separate desk came over.

I showed them both the photos from their website and the standing volunteer smirked. Purdue and Emory weren’t supposed to have been on the site for adoption, they were too young. Due to their age, they were supposed to be going to foster care once a foster was available. Despite this, she still took me to see them. She escorted me from the lobby through double doors. The harsh chemical smells mixed with animal was heavy in the second entry way. We took a sharp left towards a personnel only entry. As we walked quickly, she explained to me they had this ward of the building where they kept the too young to adopt pets waiting to go to foster care. It was well off of the main floor where the adoptable pets were, and it was much quieter in this room. The walls were lined with cages, all full of kittens. They had three kennels just for their litter. Purdue and Emory watched me as I approached them slowly, they were in their own kennel, separated from the boys. They appeared to be tired, though very curious of me. I stood there watching them for some time, chatting with the volunteer as she made a sweep around the room checking on the rest of them, pulling kittens out here and there to dote on.

As I got to know the volunteer, we talked about how the shelter was at maximum capacity and they were looking for a foster for the kittens with no luck – too many pets, not enough people. My family has an extensive pet record, although my own hands on experience with cats up until that moment had been my childhood cat, Toby, also a young rescue. I waited for my mom to come pick me up, so I could introduce her, and she instantly fell in love with them, too.

Initially, I had gone thinking I would pick one cat. We brought them both home on October 27, and I re-named Purdue, Casper.

The girls were young and required extra attentive care as they recovered from their spay surgeries. They stayed in my room, as I fussed over them, making sure they were eating, cleaning them daily, taking care of their healing stitches, box litter training them, and of course playing with them. Our cat Toby took to them quickly, though he had limited access to them for almost two months, always monitored, and never without the girls in their secure enclosure, a space that he couldn’t breach. He would lay there for about an hour a day, smelling them, their toys out on the floor, and watching them inside their massive kennel that sat on my bedroom floor.

They started out in there for their own safety, but as they got older (and bigger), they started sleeping on my bed and being allowed to explore more of my room, then the rest of the house. As they matured and needed less attention, during the day Casper learned how to crawl under the blankets to nap on my bed while Emory preferred sleeping next to pillows.

When I took them into the vet for their checkups, Emory would burrow her way into the sleeve of my jacket and hide, with Casper not far behind her. The two of them were inspirable, they did everything together.

The two of them were full of energy and mischief. One night when bringing groceries in, I heard a wisp of the bags in the kitchen and looked up to see Casper unsuccessfully running with a raw, uncooked piece of steak that was twice her size, in her mouth, with Emory quickly in tow, ready to devour it together. It was the most amazing, unexpected experience I’ve ever had.

-FAST FORWARD-

In 2015, Joe and I got our first apartment, and moved the girls in with us. Casper was more skeptical at first, but Emory was the fearless explorer. She ran around, checked every box and basket. Emory’s favorite moments were the mornings where she could snag a feather from the down blanket as we all got up. They both slept peacefully on our bed with us every night. They had the best of times in that apartment, even after we got Otis later that same year. It took them a few months to adjust to having a puppy in their home, but he eventually grew on them, and had many moments of his own cat-like behavior when trying to mimic them. But, we knew everything changed for the girls, and eventually it wouldn’t be the same for them. Casper could no longer sleep safely under the blankets on the bed without being trampled on by Otis, and Emory didn’t even share the bed with us most nights anymore – it was too crowded.

In 2016, we moved again to a bigger apartment with more space for all of us. We went from a one bedroom apartment to a two bedroom, with a loft. This time, Emory didn’t do as well in the transition. As months floated by, she became more territorial, but she wasn’t hostile towards us– she wanted to mark anything and everything. It was tough for all of us to deal with. Closer into 2017, she began losing weight, and fur. Every doctor I took her to insisted it was an allergy of some kind. We tried different foods, different detergents, anything and everything we could think of. 

In 2018 when we moved into our forever home, this would be Emory’s breaking point. They had a blissful two weeks (one of which I was gone for), then all hell broke loose. Emory started attacking Casper. It was nasty, and heartbreaking. They always ate together, and now they couldn’t even be on the same floor of the house as each other. Casper never attacked, she never hissed or made an aggressive stance towards Emory. She would try laying down, walking away, but Emory would attack each time. We had to keep them separated. As we tried to slowly re-introduce them in a neutral surrounding, it was to no luck. After a few months of trying, I knew it wasn’t going to get better. Emory was losing more fur, she was clearly in distress and it was selfish to continue putting them both through that. You would mention Emory’s name in front of Casper and she would perk up, looking around for her sister, she missed her. I was extremely fortunate that my parents offered to take Emory back home with them, to her first home, where she could live out her days with Toby. I think back often on how much I moved Emory, and how much I changed her life so quickly. It was too much for my fearless little fluff.

Today, they’re both healthy, happy kitties. Emory has tripled her weight (and now needs to go on a diet) and has grown back all of her hair. Casper has settled into the lifestyle of being the only cat in the house. She loves the extra cuddles and attention she’s able to sneak with us while the dogs aren’t looking. She takes over every dog bed for herself, and every comfortable spot on the couch. She waits until the dogs are asleep to join us most nights in bed, usually next to our heads, but she also takes advantage of her time alone to explore the house.

There are days I think that Casper misses having her sister around. I think she misses having someone on her level, her weight class to play with. Those are the days I hold her longer, play with her longer, and look for her more to see if she’s near. But more likely, it’s me who really misses having Emory around.

Until next time,

M.E.

Casper