Su-Su came into my life in the mid-1980's; she was already an adult, at least 3 years old. Her owner, a co-worker, was being transferred to Washington, D.C.; he said if I didn't take her, she'd end up at the Animal Shelter. So naturally, I welcomed her into the house. She'd never been away from her old house before, and she had never been inside a house before. Naturally, she was very frightened - she spent 3 days under the bed, and when the door was accidentally left open, she took off.
Five days later, I opened the back door, and she was waiting patiently to come in. Clearly, the decision of where to live was her choice, and no human was going to make up her mind. Su-Su has lived with me longer than any cat.
Su-Su had long fur and loved to be brushed. It was one of the few words she admits to understanding: "Brush, Su-sie?" would bring her running every time. Sometimes she'd slip up and let me know that she understood a lot more words: one other evening she had jumped up on the sofa with me; I petted her for a second then said, "I put my plate down on the floor over there." She immediately looked at the floor, then jumped off and went directly to the plate to clean up the tidbits!
She was a very delicate creature, despite her healthy size, and always appeared to be walking in high-heels or on tiptoe. She had very soft, silky fur, though it's tending to get a bit more coarse with age. She is getting grayer now that she's older.
Su-Su became increasingly affectionate during her last few months, choosing to spend a lot of time perched on the arm of my chair, or "helping" me by sitting on the wrist pad in front of the keyboard.
|July 29, 2000: At nearly 18 years old, Su-Su has simply faded away. The vet and I helped her across the Rainbow Bridge this morning. She kissed me and purred, then fell silent.|