Sharra's Tale
Once upon a time, in a warm land far to the south of the Mountain, there was a tiny bungalow. The family was losing their home and so decided to go away taking what they could carry. with them.
In the morning, only a mother cat and her three kittens were left.
The neighbors thought that the people had only forgotten the cat and hoped that they would soon be back, but days passed and the mother cat hunted mice for her kits, but there was no one to shelter them and the small house was to be torn down.
The local Humane society sent out a truck to capture the cat family, but when she arrived, the mother and two of the kits had disappeared.
The tall, red-haired lady who lived next door and her friend, Jane who was visiting from an even warmer place, came over to see what was happening and a very small black kitten came bouncing out of weeds taller than she was. Cheryl, the redhead, picked up the kit and told the official person that she had a home for this kitten.
Cheryl and Jane brought the little one in to our house and put her down on the carpet. The two tabby cats, Cynthia and Arial glared at the newcomer. Cheryl looked at her house mate and shrugged her shoulders. "We practically saw her born. I couldn't let them take her."
"But Mitzie is going to kill her." I said, knowing that our 17 year old black queen wasn't fond of other cats at all.
The comments were suddenly irrelevant as a ten pound thunderstorm arrived at my feet, fur fluffed out and nasty noises in her throat.
Her Imperial Fuzziness, the Countess Shadow of Transylvania had scented an invader. The invader curled her front paws under her creating a small black bundle half under the chess table.
Madame Shadow glared at the kit, the two tabbies and me. Obviously this was my fault. Then she took a better, if slightly nearsighted, look at the kitten who made a very small noise. The tabbies came in for another of her patented, "fry you for lunch, reduce you to dust", glares. To her way of thinking they were peasants. beneath contempt.
She looked the kit over. "Don't remember having kittens recently. Black... can't be theirs. Properly submissive to my majesty... Eyes like mine... Hummm."
She took her time examining the quiet small black thing (that was the only time in her long life that Sharra was quiet!).. Finally, with one last ferocious glare at the tabbies, she glided over to the baby cat. One quick lick of an ear, and she began to wash it in earnest.
Satisfied that the kitten was properly tidy, she came over to me . I made a lap and she levitated into it. Mitzie settled then called to the small black thing. She scampered over and after a couple of tries, managed to climb up beside her new mother.
Madame la Condessa had always been very quiet other than the occasional discussion of the ancestry of the other felines in the family. The kitten was not quiet. She kept up a continuous commentary about her new world. Such a story teller! She acquired her name for that very trait, Scheharazade. The name was shortened to Sharra for everyday usage.
She followed her new mom all over the house. For the next 2 years they were never separated except for Sharra's necessary vet visits. Having the SBT running around the house screaming "Errror... errror..." was more than we could stand. One season was all it took to convince us that she needed to be spayed.
When she returned Mitzie washed all the scent of the vet's hospital from her and cuddled her on my pillows. This became a permanent situation and from that day on, Sharra had the primary pillow franchise. I wound up buying a couple of extra ones just so I had one to use.
Mitzie returned to the Goddess some years later and Sharra, the Small, Black and Beastly One bossed the house and any other cats in it until her time with us ended in August of 1999.
I still look up to the shelf over the computer monitor for her and every once in a while I think I can hear a ghostly, "Errrorrr."
Comments on Sharra's Tale and any of the stories are welcome.