Azul and Ali, Ali and Azul. Two girl-cat peas in a pod.
In November 2002 I adopted this beautiful burmese at the Humane Society in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She was scared, starved to the bone, and craving attention. The first time we saw each other Azul lept out of her cage into my arms and started rubbing her face all over mine. In that moment I knew that this cat was special. "I don't think I have a choice," I told the volunteer at the shelter. "I think this one will be coming home with me."
I nursed Azul back to health and we became great friends. We kept each other company on lonely nights, slept together huddled under blankets in my tall single bed, and spent hours sitting in my armchair, me knitting and Azul draped around the back of my neck purring.
Less than a year after I rescued her, Azul returned the favor and saved my life. I mean it. I don't know what would have happened that night in July 2003 had I not had the image of my sweet Azul to think of and get me through the toughest, most painful moment I've ever endured. This is a story for another day, but my girl-cat most certainly was what got me through to the next morning without doing anything stupid.
Now Azul lives in California with my mom and 2 big Australian Shepherds. She has grown, become a brave little thing, reigning supreme in a house previously dominated by canines. My mom's husband built an enclosed area on the deck of their house where Azul can go soak up the sunshine, chase birds, and keep my mom company as she does her morning reading and has a cup of tea.
I miss Azul more than I can stand sometimes, but it's comforting to know that she's in good hands. And I quite like the idea that she and my mom are together, the two girl-cats that I love so much, halfway around the world waiting for the day when I will come for a visit.
For more peas in a pod click here.