Just read your post about Nyssa Rhu. My ghod, has it been 27 years?????? As I recall, the three of us had been strawberry picking in Cottage Grove (before it became overbuilt with townhomes and such), and we stopped at the Farmers Market in downtown St. Paul on the way back to Minneapolis. The rhubarb seller also had some kittens for sale, including Nyssa Rhu. I always rather suspected she hadn’t been socialized like most indoor cats, but spent a bit too much time as a barn kitten before we found each other.
If I get a scanner and find my missing photo albums, I’ll have to send you the set of photos I have of Nyssa on different people’s shoulders over the course of various events at Toad Hall. She was the only cat I’ve known who loved to socialize during music parties.
I’ll never forget how Nyssa would so patiently (or terrified) hold absolutely still throughout the vet’s examination, then slink over to me and climb up to my shoulder and cling. She knew her people.
In the end, while she went though a lot of trauma and more household moves than could be anticipated, she found a good home with Margo and Don (where all those moves prepared her to become top cat when they changed houses and their other cats were traumatized by the move—to Nyssa it was just another move and she got to keep the same people and furniture!). Of all the cats I’ve heard of who needed a home, Nyssa found the most homes and the most people who wanted her and loved her. She was a special cat. She’ll always be my only cat.
I can understand the temptation you feel when you see a photo of a cat that reminds you of Nyssa. Happens to me, too. Thank you for letting me be Nyssa’s half-mom. Without you I wouldn’t have known the joy and the concern and the love and everything that is part of belonging to a cat.
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Just read your post about Nyssa Rhu. My ghod, has it been 27 years?????? As I recall, the three of us had been strawberry picking in Cottage Grove (before it became overbuilt with townhomes and such), and we stopped at the Farmers Market in downtown St. Paul on the way back to Minneapolis. The rhubarb seller also had some kittens for sale, including Nyssa Rhu. I always rather suspected she hadn’t been socialized like most indoor cats, but spent a bit too much time as a barn kitten before we found each other.
If I get a scanner and find my missing photo albums, I’ll have to send you the set of photos I have of Nyssa on different people’s shoulders over the course of various events at Toad Hall. She was the only cat I’ve known who loved to socialize during music parties.
I’ll never forget how Nyssa would so patiently (or terrified) hold absolutely still throughout the vet’s examination, then slink over to me and climb up to my shoulder and cling. She knew her people.
In the end, while she went though a lot of trauma and more household moves than could be anticipated, she found a good home with Margo and Don (where all those moves prepared her to become top cat when they changed houses and their other cats were traumatized by the move—to Nyssa it was just another move and she got to keep the same people and furniture!). Of all the cats I’ve heard of who needed a home, Nyssa found the most homes and the most people who wanted her and loved her. She was a special cat. She’ll always be my only cat.
I can understand the temptation you feel when you see a photo of a cat that reminds you of Nyssa. Happens to me, too. Thank you for letting me be Nyssa’s half-mom. Without you I wouldn’t have known the joy and the concern and the love and everything that is part of belonging to a cat.