Cassie

Cassie is a beautiful Himalayan. Cassie is not a feral cat. She is a pure breed, registered cat. Born 1996. Big blue eyes, sweet face. And mean as a snake. She was our daughter's 18th birthday present, two months after our sweet Yorkie died.

My daughter moved to Chicago over 15 years ago and Cassie is still with us. That should tell you something.

After just 8 weeks of being in this world and a few days of being in our house, she got very sick and lost half her weight. When I took her to the vet, they called the person who sold her to us and was told that one kitten from that litter had already died. So the vet says, "Take her home, watch her, and if she dies, put her in a plastic bag and put her in the freezer so we can test her and see what's wrong with that litter." Oh, my! We had already bonded. So we followed all directions except the freezer part because she didn't die. She lived and, 18 years later, is still with us.

My husband calls Cassie the Million Dollar Cat because he figures that's about how much we've paid in vet bills to save her little life several times. We should've known after the first time but what do you do? After her first illness, she started out like all kittens, sweet, cute, a bundle of fur and energy. Very playful and fun.

We're not sure when she became mean but it happened. Because she is a long-haired cat, I decided to have her shaved periodically. The first groomer I took her to called me after a couple of hours. "You've got to come get this cat," he told me. "We can't do anything with her." When I entered the building, the man at the front desk yelled back to someone in the back, "The lady is here for that cat from hell!" Well, I thought that was pretty rude but fairly accurate as time would tell. In order to have her shaved, Cassie had to be sedated.

We've been through four vets with her. They all think I'm kidding when I explain that she's "difficult." When I go back to get her, they acknowledge that "difficult" was an understatement. They put big red marks on her file saying things like, "Caution!" "Dangerous," "Use heavy gloves!" Not sure about that last one but they always tell me that her behavior has been notated, whatever that means. I do know she bites, scratches, and makes sounds like she's demon-possessed. Not very pleasant.

Why do we put up with her? Well, because she's family. She loves us in her own special way and definitely on her own terms. She's a cat, after all. Her terms are just much more intense than most cats!

She has almost died several times for a variety of reasons. Don has hinted that it would be much cheaper to just have her put to sleep, but he doesn't really mean that. I don't think.

Cassie has been and always will be queen of the house. She solidified that position one Christmas Eve when my entire family was here and we were all sitting in the living room. Cassie evidently thought they had stayed long enough. She jumped up on the arm of the sofa, climbed to the back, and began to walk very slowly behind the heads of my mother, sister, and niece while the rest of us stared in horror. Everyone froze. My family knows to absolutely stay as far away from Cassie as possible and whatever you do, you do not pet her or try to pick her up. And there she was, prowling and sniffing at their heads. They carefully eased off the sofa and left soon after. Cassie curled up on "her" sofa and went to sleep. "Thought they would never leave!"

For a very long time Cassie was the only pet we had. Life was good. One cat was enough. And then along came . . .

Silver.