Mystic Wednesday: Evolution of a Diva

A story this involved can only be told from both my and Mystic's points of view.

Mystic: What's up? I'm the diva-cat. But look at me: I so deserve it. From what I remember, I was living a pretty sweet kittenhood, when suddenly, I broke my hip. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in recovery at the Anti-Cruelty Society.

Marianne: The Targo and I had lived in our apartment about four months. I was at a fabulous Mexican restaurant downtown for my department's Christmas party when another crazy cat lady and I decided to stop in at Anti-Cruelty. We were walking through the kitty room when a mystery cat reached her little white paw out of her cage and grabbed my leg. I asked to hold her and fell quickly in love.

Mystic: All I did was bite and scratch her. She still wouldn't put me down. *Cuckoo. Cuckoo*

Marianne: That night, I talked to The Targo and gave him a laundry list of reasons we wanted, nay, needed a cat. He acquiesced and we went back to the ACS the next day. Sadly, the cute little black and white cat with the broken hip was nowhere to be found. So, we looked around for about twenty minutes and picked out this cute little grey tabby. And then, I looked in the window display - and THERE SHE WAS!

Mystic: I was trying to hide behind the cat tree, but the jig was up. She found me. But hey - who was that awesome guy with her? He looked pretty cool.

Marianne: So we took the cute little cat with the broken hip home. It took us a few days to name her, but Mystic worked. (It really works with my last name. Nothing works with The Targo's last name, for cry-eye-eye.)

Mystic: The new place was okay. They bought me cat toys, which I could have cared less about, but there was the papasan. It was Heaven in chair form. I did have to put up with that blonde chick following me around, but the sacrifices one makes to live with The Targo.

Marianne: I love Mystic.

Mystic: Life was pretty good for a while. I'd say three years. I was spoiled. They took me on car trips to see my grandmas and grandpas. I got to play with other cats and dogs. There were many hours of playing fetch and then lying in warm laundry.

Marianne: I love Mystic so much. OW! Stop biting me. Oh, okay. If you want to bite me you can.

Mystic: %(@#&)%#&, the bliss that I was living, my life with my Targo and that lady who sleeps in my bed, got turned upside down. Why? Why did they have to bring that other cat to my house?

Marianne: Last September, a former colleague of mine called and said she'd found a black and white kitten. She was allegedly cute and small and a girl. Well, "she" turned into my big-footed, incredibly noisy, boy cat, Magic. I love him too. And he loves me. But, he's not Mystic.

Mystic: HATE!

Marianne: Life is okie dokie with the four of us in our little molehole. The cats fight a little too much, but they're so damned cute.

Mystic: Yeah, this is my life. No more fetch. No more alone time. No more snuggling in the laundry. No more naps with my Targo. And that other cat. *sigh* It's hard to be me.