Today I want to tell you about my before sister Kirkby (the second K is silent e.g. Kerbee).
Kirkby was a feral kitten who was rescued from a building site in North London along with her mother and two sisters. At 12 weeks old she came to live with the humans who had to drive her all the way from North London to South London. Little Kirkby was so scared in the car she had a fit and the humans were really worried she would not survive the journey.
Because they thought she was a ruffy tuffy feral cat she should have a ruffy tuffy name, so they called her Kirkby after a rough suburb of Liverpool. She wasn't rough at all though, she turned out to be the world's most timid cat.
For the first six months she hid under the furniture and only came out to eat and use the litter tray when no one was around. She never grew bigger than a large kitten and was always very slim (the human's think this was down to her nervous temperament).
When she got a bit older, she would jump on the bed at night and snuggle up between the pillows but she wouldn't go near the humans unless they were lying down under the covers. If they wanted to take her to the V.E.T. they would have to get dressed, get under the covers and then pretend to be asleep in bed so they could catch her. When they put her in the basket she would start to shake violently and wet herself.
She never left the garden perimeter her whole life and it was only when she got to be an older cat (about ten) that she started sitting on the boy human's lap for a cuddle. This was a momentous day. Even then she would jump a mile high if anyone moved or made a noise.
Although I never met her, I know she was the sweetest little cat and I wish I had been there to protect her and look after her. She got ill when she was fifteen. At first they thought it was an over-active thyroid but it turned out to be cancer of the thyroid and the humans couldn't put her through regular trips to the vet, so they let her sleep.
RIP little princess.