While the other kittens got homes elsewhere, Pobricita stayed with us as she was slightly retarded from brain damage at birth and was the 'runt' of that litter. She slowly grew into a charming and talkative small cat with a lovely ticked black and white coat and a nubbin tail. Her personality made her lovable and entertaining, she was a wonderful percussion instrument (she'd 'mew' on cue when petted) and such a fabulous huntress that at times I called her 'Diana'.
A few years ago, she complained to a human friend of mine that she wasn't treated as well as the other cats were treated, so I took that to heart and began interacting with her more closely, listening to her more seriously, and calling her "Precious".
Two years ago, she had become such an efficient huntress that she literally had two birds 'in paw' at one time, caught within moments of each other. That afternoon she got a pretty blue breakaway collar with three bells attached. She couldn't move without jingling, and the birds had a better chance of escaping her quick claws.
On my forty-ninth birthday, I woke with all three cats (Coneja, Nikki and Precious) on the bed with me and teasingly asked them what they had 'gotten me for my birthday'. Precious sprang from the bed and left through the cat door. An hour later, I was lying on the table in the massage room when she came into the house through the cat door and I could tell by the sound of her gait she was carrying something.
When the masseuse looked in the kitchen, there was a large wood rat in the food bowl and Precious sitting close by, guarding her gift. She had eaten a portion of it by the time my massage was over, but she saved me the best parts - the head and tail. She always had lovely manners and spoke when spoken to, always said "Thank you" when a door was opened just for her or when she got canned cat food.
We all fell ill this winter and some of us have had a longer recovery than others. Precious never got her full strength back and was sick again recently.
About ten days ago, she didn't come in when called for breakfast. I suspected she was dead, but wasn't sure until Coneja went outside and came back in crying. Coneja wept and purred for two days and I visited neighbors asking them if they'd seen Precious or her carcass. The next morning I awoke knowing where Precious was. Today I donned long pants and sleeves, got a flashlight and a small box and crawled under the house to look for her.
She was lying on her side in the front corner in a dark protected spot, the beam illuminated her sweet little ear and she looked like she was sleeping. I put her the box and brought her out with me, took her to the back yard and laid her in the sunshine, went and got Coneja and Nikki and carried them back there. Neither of them was surprised, I guess I was the only one who hadn't seen her already (not being one to frequent the areas under the house as they do).
We all laid in the sunshine for about an hour. While in the shed to get a shovel, I got the very distinct message from Precious that I'd always promised her a prominent spot in my skull collection and she expected me to keep that promise. I wrapped her carcass in several layers of metal screen and wedged the whole package into the crotch of her favorite tree, just a few feet from the bird feeder. She was an affectionate little cat, a defender of our territory, a fabulous huntress, the forecat of "my greeting committee".
Coneja is feeling better.
It's raining now, very hard, and I'm glad I found her so I can sleep not worrying that she's out there somewhere alone.