Chan
Chan was a shy, diminutive, Balinese pussycat with incredibly long
whiskers that we adopted when she was approximately a year old. Her right
eye had been damaged, but rather than being off putting, it gave her a sly,
mysterious look. She was beautiful, and she had a genuinely sweet nature
that captivated everyone.
It took years for Chan to develop trust. It didn’t help that shortly after
we brought her home, she jumped off the kitchen counter smack into my
husband as he was coming into the room. She hit somewhere around his
beltline. I’m not sure who was more surprised, but the collision set the
relationship back years.
Chan never liked to be held and she was not a snuggler. Nevertheless, she
loved to have her cheeks and chin scratched and she liked to be brushed. As
she came to trust us, she became more vocal. She didn’t hesitate to demand
what she wanted including breakfast as early as 4:30 or 5:00 AM. She had an
amazingly loud voice given her petite size.
Sometimes Chan would sprint down the upstairs hallway just for the fun of
it. My husband and I would look up at the ceiling and shake our heads in
disbelief that such a small ball of fur could sound like a heard of bison in
a stampede.
We had Chan for most of her eighteen and a half years. During that time she
learned to live with a Siamese cat, and two dogs, probably not her ideal
choice of a home. The dogs wanted to play, but they were so much bigger and
bouncier than Chan that she wanted no part of them. Our Siamese was the
alpha cat, and he ruled her and the dogs. Relationships changed as the
menagerie aged. Chan became emboldened. She would meow at our beagle and
give him a head butt in the derrière when she wanted attention.
Chan is gone now. She was a tiny, little cat who carved out a very large
place in our hearts. We miss her terribly.
