I had other plans for tonight’s post, but as I got settled and began writing I saw Ivy with her tiny little face covered by her tiny little paws, snug in a ball and laid with her face illuminated and warmed by Matt’s iPad. My heart melted and now all I can think about is how cute and fluffy she is. So, tonight’s post is a nostalgic throwback to my beautiful tabby cat who we found in a little bush outside our flat, who was so small she fit in my hands and whose personality is so human I sometimes think I’m an amnesiac witch and she’s my familiar.
If you only recently started following my blog, you probably don’t know Ivy’s story: She was a very small stray kitten, who cried nightly for attention and food but was far too timid to let us bring her home. We’d sit with the windows of our flat open constantly, hoping to hear her cry so we could try and catch her again – it rained the entire ordeal, which lasted about 2 weeks. If we heard her cry we’d run down into the car park in whatever we were wearing (typically slippers and dressing gowns), and end up kneeling or laying on the wet, puddled concrete trying to coax her out with food and treats. The neighbours must have thought we were insane…
Eventually, we realised she was climbing up into people’s cars from the underneath and she was particularly keen on our downstairs neighbours car. I was so worried they’d start the engine and drive off without realising she was in there, that I introduced myself to the neighbours and asked them to open up their bonnet for us to have another go at catching her. She ran off, but it sparked something in our neighbours and a couple of days later we spotted a note on the building next to ours. “We have your kitty :-).”
Everything about meeting Ivy was so ‘almost’. The note was on the wrong building, so if my curiosity hadn’t gotten the better of me, we would never have checked the note. On the first night we heard Ivy crying, I was warm and wanted to open the window, but the rain was torrential. If we didn’t open it, we never would have heard her. When we called the RSPCA for help catching her, the lady with the net couldn’t find her. If she did, she wouldn’t be ours today. Without Ivy, we never would have adopted Harley as a sisterly companion, and my nightly sloppy, cuddles wouldn’t exist. My heart aches thinking of the ‘what-if’ scenarios.
They are my world. A moment doesn’t go by in the day when I’m not cooing or worrying or thinking about them.
Ivy’s first few months:
Thanks for taking a trip down memory lane with me!
Is there anything you get super nostalgic about?