This tiny darling girl is a Manx of sorts. It was one of those special weekends where cat rescue organizations show up at Petsmart with a lot of cats in cages and offer them to the public. I hadn't really been looking for any more cats, but it was love at first sight. She had recently had kittens, nursed them, was spayed and ready for a new home.
The name she had been given by the Animal Shelter Relief organization was Priscilla. Of course I had to change it. I'm fussy that way. I sometimes feel the kitty is not mine unless I bestow their name upon them myself. At first, because of her tiny tail, I considered her name might become, "Bunny". But two other cats with names starting with B, I thought better of it.
I brought her home on January 9, 2013. She didn't like the cat picture on the wall when I was carrying her into her new home. When she saw it she tensed up and hissed at it. I settled her into a room by herself, at first. She never meowed or complained for being alone. She's so cute! When she eats she wags her little tail like a puppy! I often wondered if she was some kind of dwarf cat. She was so tiny! Even at two years old she only weighed about 6 pounds.
In the beginning, I had a terrible time introducing her to the rest of my kitties. At first, behind the door, there were no problems. But as I attempted to get them acquainted with each other, she got extremely aggressive. So, I had to avoid having them in the same room at the same time. If she happened to see them through the crack in the door, she got very ferocious and attacked. She had accidentally gotten out twice and it was disastrous. A few scratched noses and hurt feelings.
Afterwards, Chica was brought out to me inside a little cardboard coffin with a flower taped to the top. I'd already been crying, but that took me over the top and I sobbed. I took her home and later that day, we buried her and planted a lime tree over her.