Welcome to DeeBee Photography
Welcome to my blog sharing short stories about animals, a series I call “How I met my pet,” accounts of how people were adopted by their pets, and information on living in the San Francisco Bay Area with pets. To start with, the following story is how my pet met his pet.
Tale of 3 Cats - and then Milton
By Diana Brohard
December 4th, 4:15 a.m. 2007 was when Tiger’s heart stopped beating. My beautiful Maine Coon died in bed next to me.
The previous February Tiger was diagnosed with cardio myopathy. The news was devastating, but we made a pact. I had a bad back and he had a failing heart, so we agreed that I would give him my healthy heart and he could give me his healthy back. We put our foreheads together, did a Vulcan mind meld (reference Star Trek) and fell asleep. The next morning my back no longer hurt and the next time I took Tiger to the doctor his condition had stabilized. For 8 months he astounded the cat cardiologist who had originally given him a prognosis of 1 week. But the time came when his illness took him. Tiger was cat #1. He was the smartest, most loving cat ever. I was in distress and my orange cat (#2), Shamalama, didn’t understand where his brother had gone.
A month prior to Tiger’s departure to cat heaven I adopted Mama Mia (cat #3), a stunning calico to whom Tiger had been a perfect gentleman but Shamalama was a total jerk. After Tiger’s death the situation between Shamalama and Mama Mia worsened. I tried many times to introduce and reintroduce them but one day Shamalama bit her. I separated them and lamented to my neighbors who had cat sat for me that I needed to find her a new home. Luck struck and they said, “We’ll take her!” and she was happy.
But I was still distraught at Tiger’s passing and Shamalama’s behavior deteriorated. He yelled at me when I got home from work and bit my fingers when I tried to comfort him. He needed a brother.
We started looking online for another cat. With Shamalama on my lap, we stared at the computer, but none were right.
March 1, 2008, I woke up with a gut feeling. I jumped out of bed, made preparations, and arrived at the SFSPCA just as they opened. I was greeted by a volunteer and explained that I had an aggressive male orange tabby who needed a brother, preferably orange. The volunteer immediately took me to see Rover. “This is the one for you,” the volunteer had no doubt.
“But he’s not orange,” I thought. I entered Rover’s room and bent towards him. He lurched at me, wrapped his arms around my neck and rubbed his lips along my cheek. This was the cat. I filled out the adoption papers and drove home with Shamalama's new sibling.
His name changed to Milton in the ride home. I snuck Milton into our house and put him in a separate room. Shamalama looked up from his midday nap with minor curiosity. He raised his head, held an expression of “Who’s that?” for a second and then went back to sleep. Shamalama’s yelling and biting stopped and a calm descended throughout the household. Shamalama’s bad behavior was replaced with tepid curiosity for who was behind the door where I was keeping Milton.
Four days later they met face to face and have been purring together ever since. Milton saved us and now Milton and Shamalama are the most perfect brothers-from-another-feline-mother ever.
