We went to the Edmonton Humane Society just to look. We decided we would eventually adopt an older cat. Josey, our cat of 18 years had recently died. Our apartment felt empty without a fur-baby. Truth be told, I wasn’t ready for another cat yet, but my partner, Bob, was.

First, we looked in the older cat adoption section. No black cats there. We seemed to gravitated towards black cats, Josey was all black and Chelsey before her, also 18 years old when she passed, was a tuxedo.

Then we thought, oh…let’s just look at the kitten section. We saw a black kitten. Emi was huddled with her five siblings; she was at the bottom of the pile. She was the smallest one. My heart melted when I saw Emi’s sweet little face, another tuxedo. She had white whiskers. We learned this litter of kittens were feral. We spend the next 3 hours at the shelter going through an educational component and the adoption process.

We brought Emi home that day, at the beginning of June, 8 years ago. To say she disliked being in that cardboard box they packed her up in would be an understatement. She was screaming and pawing at the opening trying to get out of her confinement. Her tiny white-sculpted paws poked out of the air holes of the box. She did get out of the box whilst in the car on the way home. We managed to scoop her up and put her back in. Upon entry into her new home she ran and hid for hours at a time. We bought a baby kitten harness for her and the straps were tightened further with elastics to fit her small-frame. She looked so fragile. She was only 8 weeks old. She could fit in the palm of your hand.

When she’d come out to check things out we’d hug her and pet her like we may never see her again. Given her disappearances it made sense. Yes, we smothered her. She seemed to lap it all up. What we didn’t know, at the time, is that we set the stage for how we’d relate in future. Not only is she quite attached to us, and we to her, she is also very affectionate. She sits on Bob’s lap whenever he sits down. He can’t sit anywhere, at any time, without her wanting to be on his lap. They watch football and hockey games together. Emi rarely sits on my lap. I’m her night-time mate. She sleeps in the crook of my arm all night. And she tries to wake us up at precisely 5 am. Every day.

Having said all that, Emi is also the most independent cat we’ve ever adopted. Of course, we tried harnessing her, walking her on a leash, tying her to a lead, the whole nine-yards, but she would have none of that. She fought us like it would be the death of her. I suppose, in some ways, it would. She is a free spirit. Owning a feral cat has it’s challenges. She loves dashing out the back door and taking off to go chase mice. She is an accomplished hunter of mice. When we take her out to Woodwinds, our place in the countryside, she hunts mice for hours and can easily catch 3-5 per day. Emi is indeed a huntress. She eats those poor little creatures. And so it is.

One day, a few years back, she took off, and disappeared for 5 days. Needless to say, we were pretty upset and spent oodles of time combing the neighbourhood. As we began mourning our great loss, she returned home, if she was a mirage. Emi was dehydrated and considerably thinner. We imagined perhaps a coyote chased her up a tree and hole up there for safety sake until the coast was clear. We’ll never know. We were beside ourselves with joy that she returned.

So can you tell we adore her? She is sweet and feisty. A home-body and wild. Silly and smart. Beautiful and ugly (when she’s chowing down on a mouse). While we’ve loved our previous cats deeply Emi has stolen our hearts and we feel quite fortunate to have her. She teaches us about patience and trust and love and affection.

In gratitude,

~Barbara