Number Two: Emily

This is Emily.



Emily is Anne's sister, and my sweetest baby. She is smaller than her sisters--they are both longer, especially their necks, while Emily is a rather compact little thing. She is also oddly colored, as you can see. My father refers to her as having "calico ends" in the fur on her head, tail and paws, but nowhere else.

At first, she got into everything. I think she believed her name was "No!" when she was little. However, she had such a way about her that under almost any circumstances, she was able to "make friends" (this discounts Phoebe). She did this first with my roommate's cat--a huge Maine Coon named Geronimo who had the brain of a rugby player. As soon as she saw him, she nuzzled right into the bib of long fur under his chin, and he was hooked.

Her favorite friend, however, is Harriet. Harriet, who is notoriously difficult to get along with, has taken to Emily, and tolerates her company in ways she does with no one else, feline or otherwise. Harriet suffered from a glucose crash a few years ago, and she couldn't see or move for about a week while she recovered. We kept her in a laundry basket, lying on a blanket, and always put that basket where there was plenty of human and cat company. One night, Harriet was sitting there, sprawled out, at least partially blind, and Emily, perked up with a tiny mew, jumped right into the basket and sat with her. This action met with mutual purrs from both of them.

Emily expresses joy by rolling all over the floor when you pass by her. She'll purr whenever she meets up with anyone who may offer her some attention, and she was the only of my cats to like my last boyfriend, Matt.

Perhaps her sisters could take a lesson from her kindness....

Perhaps we all could.