Suzie-Q is a lovely, sweet little calico. She came to live with us in August 2000, supposedly on a temporary basis, but honestly, she had us at “mrow-row”.
I was headed to south Georgia on a business trip, and stopped for the night at the Comfort Inn in Perry. I went to the local Arby’s to collect some dinner, with a sheaf of coupons in hand, including one for three Beef and Cheddar sandwiches. I decided to use that one, figuring one sandwich for dinner, and one in the room fridge for breakfast (hey, this magnificent physique doesn’t come naturally, ya gotta work at it). Had no idea what I was going to do with the third one though, and I recall asking myself why I was doing this apparently senseless thing.
Arriving back at the motel, I saw a young, skin-and-bones calico under the car in front of my room. I put the extra sandwich down on the sidewalk for her, and it was rapidly and gratefully dispatched. Then I sat outside my room for an hour and a half while she purred, trilled and loved up on me. The motel manager said she’d been hanging around for a couple of months now; she was obviously a very special cat, and I hated the idea of leaving her there, but I was on a several-day trip with the government van.
Back home after my trip, I couldn’t get her off my mind. Every day I wondered how she was doing, and worried about the interstate and busy four-lane surface street next to the motel. Finally, two weeks later, Kevin agreed that we bring her back here and take care of her until we could find her a home. So I drove back down to Perry, bribed her with another Beef and Cheddar, and managed to get her into the carrier for the ride home. Her dainty little voice became operatic as she expressed her misgivings about this apparent catnapping, but I promised her that her life had just taken a major turn for the better.
We set up her headquarters out on our deck. Taz found this rather unsettling, and she took full advantage—the little flirt would pounce at the low-silled window he was sitting in, then turn and sashay off, tail at 12 noon, leaving Taz pacing and muttering. At this point we were just calling her Squidge, a nickname that has stuck—a combination of “squirt” and “midget”.
Her introduction to the indoors came as a result of a couple of hard September rains, including the remnants of a landfalling tropical system. I had stretched a tarp over a corner of the deck, but it was still pitiful to see her crouched miserably in the small dry space that remained. Finally I couldn’t stand it, and moved her into the garage. As a resident of the garage, she sometimes ventured into the house, and Taz and Furry were amazingly accepting of this—a month of getting used to her through the windows had really paid off. Before long she was in the house full-time, and it was around then that we decided to make it official and give her a proper name.
Suzie’s presence altered the feline dynamics in a very positive way, giving Taz someone else to chase and pester besides Furry, who did not care for his attentions At All. In her last several years Furry was able to remain serenely above the fray while the other two ran around playing cat tag.
Suzie is extremely affectionate on her own terms, but she’s still very skittish about being approached for petting or cuddling. An x-ray showed three shotgun pellets lodged in her abdomen, so she has reason to be afraid—and who knows what other mistreatment she might have suffered. I would truly like to get my hands, and preferably the wheels of my truck, on whoever did that. Hopefully there’s a special place in Hell awaiting them.
But thankfully, Suzie’s now enjoying her well-deserved happily-ever-after. OK, maybe with a little too much hassling by a certain small gray kitten…
