So I have a wonderful story about hope. A couple of years ago my cat that i had lived with for my entire life died. Although she was a mean and bitter old cat, i still missed her and longed for another cat. After about a month of having an empty house, and hours of begging, my mother took me to the humane society to buy a new little kitten.
I fell in love at first sight with an adorable white calico. She had black and tan spots and was the smallest kitten there. We took her home that day and spent time playing and petting her. She wasn't the most active of cats, and she spent most of her time sleeping and laying around. The cat still needed her shots, so a couple of days later i sent her away to the vet, expecting to get her back. Unfortunately that didn't quite work out. The vet called our house later that day telling us that we had a very sick little kitty. They said that they would keep her overnight and do everything they could to save her. That just wasnt enough. A day later we recieved another phone call saying that my new cat had died. I hadnt even had her for a week. I was furious at the humane society sold me a faulty cat, and that the vet had taken my cat away from me and killed it.
A couple of weeks later, I worked up enough courage to get another cat. Obviously I did not return to the humane society because I didnt want to bring home another half dead cat. Instead we went to Earl May to take a look at the kittens they had there. When we first got there i fell in love with a gray and white cat. Unfortunately i wanted a girl cat, and this one was a boy. I then changed my mind and took the only female calico. She wasnt too bad for a second choice. We took her home and introduced her to my family. Besides my dad and my dog, everyone loved her.
The next day my mother went out to run some "errands." Apparently her idea of running errands was getting another kitten from Earl May. When she came home she had an orange tabby cat in her arms. I was a little disappointed because if she was going to get another cat, i thought that she should have gotten the gray one. Since it technically wasnt my cat, i wasnt able to convince my mother to take him back and get the other.
The new dilemma was coming up with names for our new cats. I had been looking at names for ages and I knew exactly what i wanted to call mine. I went with the name Hope because of the incident with the Humane Society kitten. I was hoping that this cat wouldn't keel over on me.
Hope's name didnt really help her out. A couple weeks after we took her home, she began to have seizures and a fever. I was extremely uspet that we had to take her to the vet that had killed my first cat. For 2 weeks we had to monitor her and give her medication. One day after a seizure my mother told me that if this cat had one more, we would have to put her to sleep. Miraculously she began to get better from there on out.
Today we still have both cats and they are alive and well. We have reason to believe that Hope's brain was a little fried from her fevers because since then she has been terrible at keeping her balance like a normal cat. Although she may be a bit clumsy i am thankful that we have her today.
