Diamond used to be a nearly-feral cat who Dumpster dove for her dinner. She had had a number of litters of kittens, and no one could go near her. She had been roaming for a few years. Then in the summer of 2000 she kept coming right up to me when I was working outside, rubbing against me demanding pets. I noticed she was getting a bit…well…rotund. It was getting toward fall, so I coaxed her into my house and installed her in my spare bedroom where she soon presented me with four kittens! I got the kittens homes, keeping one; this is how I got into rescue. She has seen some 120 different cats come and go, some of whom I kept, most placed into loving forever homes.
She had a habit of standing by her kibble bowl if it was not filled to her satisfaction, meowing up a storm. She was the first one in the kitchen at feeding time. About a week ago she stopped doing this, and I knew something was amiss. Due to her extreme age and frailty (no longer eating or able to walk) we made the difficult decision to give her the last kindness.
I have often seen magnets saying “Who rescued who?” This was definitely the case with precious Diamond.
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