When I was 33, I really wanted a black cat. I searched the shelters and found a little boy, but he was sick and I was told I had to wait to adopt him. He died not long after that, so I never got to bring him home. About a month later, a friend asked if I was still searching for a black cat and told me about a litter of kittens that had been dumped in her Mom’s garden, one of which was black. I said absolutely yes, bring the kitten to me.
I went to the pet store and bought kitten food, a feeding bowl, toys, a small litter tray and special kitten treats. The following day, my friend came to my apartment with a black kitten so tiny, she fit into the palm of my hand. He eyes were still blue and every few steps she took, she would stumble. She was 2 weeks old and had been taken away from her mother far too soon.
I quickly realised that all of the kitten things I had bought, including the food, would not suit her. I took her to the veterinary clinic right away; I didn’t know how to care for a kitten that young. The vet gave me formula and a bottle, but even the bottle was too big, so I fed her from a medication dropper. She was so gentle and quiet and so beautiful. I remember sitting with her, feeding her, looking at her delicate face, and her name came to me so clearly. Daisy.
That day at the clinic, the vet told me that she was so young and had been taken from her mother so early, it was likely she wouldn’t survive. Today, Daisy turns 20 years old, still as gentle and beautiful as the day she came home. Happy Birthday to my miracle baby!