I have a much adored gray stripey cat right now named Lucy. We adopted her a few years ago:
When we adopted her, we had just lost Maggie, my previously adored stripey gray cat. I had no idea how to name her, so I literally let a stranger name her. When we were at the Farmer’s Market, I was holding her while Mike filled out the paperwork for adopting her. An old lady came up to me and fussed over the kitty and we talked.
Nice lady: Oh she’s so adorable are you adopting her?
Me: I am. We just lost our gray cat. She died…
Nice lady: My gray cat just died, too. I’m so sad. She was such a good cat.
Me: What was her name?
Nice lady: Lucy.
Me: Then that’s what we’ll name her. Lucy is a really good name.
I just realized that I have loved gray stripy cats my ENTIRE life. It started when I was just a baby. My mom even provided proof. Here is my father introducing me to the kitten.
This is 1969 in Norfolk, Virginia at Mrs. Cannon’s House. I have no memory of this event, but it’s obvious I was really interested in this kitty. As a kid, I would look at this picture as proof that the kitty liked me too, because she reached out her paw toward me.
I eventually cornered the kitty. I have no idea how this encounter ended, but I like to think that we were both happy.
Sometimes, when I’m half asleep and think weird thoughts, I like to tell myself that Maggie was ALWAYS there for me. She just kept coming back to me in the form of a gray stripy cat.