Luna’s Story

Before she was queen of the house, Luna was an orphaned kitten whose only chance of survival was a human willing to bottle feed.

Like everything else in my life, my sister found out first. Two kittens needed urgent help. Their mom had been killed by a dog, and the owner knew they weren’t old enough to make it without milk. My sister didn’t really know the owner. In fact, I don’t think I ever learned exactly how Elaine learned about the kittens. But if there’s anything in life I know, it’s that Elaine knows things and is never wrong. I learned a long time ago not to question it.

Some background knowledge: at this point in my life, I had never bottle fed anything. Maybe a human? I don’t remember. The only things that qualified me for bottle feeding a kitten were spare time, a love for animals, and a willingness to learn.

If you’ve ever had to bottle feed a baby of any species, I hope you had an in-person demonstration before you were thrust into that responsibility. My sister and I had no such luxury. We had Google, love, and determination.

At first, we tried not to name the kittens. We were pretty certain they would die. More than that, we were also fairly certain that our dad would kill us if we kept them for much longer than it took to save their lives. At this time, both my sister and I still lived at home. Dad was not a fan of cats.

One of the kittens was much larger than the other. We thought that the larger one may have a chance at life. We hoped the runt wouldn’t suffer too much. We tried to keep them very comfortable and prayed a lot. Everything we read warned us that they would probably die. We hoped against hope that at least the larger one would beat the odds.

I think it was around day 3 that Elaine named the larger kitty. I held out for a long time, knowing that I would have rights to naming the runt if it lived (fair is fair–I don’t make the sibling rules, but all siblings know that if two things must be named, each sibling gets to name one. As always, youngest player goes first). One morning around one o’clock (did I mention that these things had to be fed every two hours, even at night?!?!), I was watching the runt eat through lots of tears (and a little blood–did I mention that bottle fed kittens tend to scratch the crap out of whoever holds the bottle?) when my sappy poetic side got the best of me. This jet black runt, the underdog of this story, was fighting for life with every sip of replacement milk. I named her after the moon because she was shining bright in the metaphorical (and literal) night.

For some reason, perhaps a miracle, both kittens lived past the bottle feeding stage. Luna’s brother disappeared before he was fully grown. I’d like to think that he’s living a great life somewhere.

Luna grew into an adorable, petite cat. She stayed short and skinny for a long time and we assumed that she would always look like a runt. She loved our pitbull, Duke. Duke adored and protected her. They looked stunning next to one another. Duke was many times her size, but they shared the same coloring. They seemed like siblings from different species.

Even though I hate the color pink, I can’t deny that bright pink looks awesome on jet black. My mini panther turned into such a diva that I couldn’t imagine her wearing anything other than a pink collar. I meticulously researched the best type of collar. It must be a breakaway collar in case she gets caught on something. A chihuahua collar simply won’t do. Because she turned into quite the huntress and cats tend to harm native bird populations, I made sure her collar had a bell to warn away potential prey.

When she was old enough, I had her spayed. She herself had been part of an unwanted litter, and as much as I love kittens, they are a lot of work. Luna much prefers the company of humans (and even dogs) over cats. While I sometimes pine for a new baby kitty, I know that our home is maxed out at one cat until the natural end of her life. Luna will not be contributing to the pet overpopulation problem.

Luna stayed loyal to me as I secured my first job. She moved into my new house with me. She approved (somewhat begrudgingly) the acquisition of a puppy soon after the move. After all, we would need a guard dog, and Duke had passed away by that time. Belle joined our family and joyfully filled the roles of watch dog and Luna’s annoying baby sister.

Luna enthusiastically approved of my new boyfriend and his giant floof. Eventually, the giant floof moved in, and Luna was often caught snuggling with him on chilly nights. My then-boyfriend was finishing up his degree 4 hours away, but the floof had to stay in town to go to the vet. He had been infected with heartworms. Luna nursed him back to health and seemed to bond with him much the same way she had bonded with Duke. Mason (the German Shepherd/Akita hybrid) had joined the family.

Luna “helped” with the wedding planning, mostly by knocking things off the table and reminding me to feed her and scoop her poop. She was quite pleased when another human joined the family. Humans are her favorite thing, and my husband, Clifford, is very good at feeding her and scooping her poop.

Throughout the years, Luna has grown. She has matured and filled out. At her last appointment, the vet assured us that 17 pounds is “within range.” Elaine, on the other hand, has dubbed her “fat cat.” Luna loves it when Elaine visits, and will come running when Elaine calls her by her nickname. If anyone else mentions her weight, she smacks them with a front paw in a way that seems to say, “I didn’t use claws this time. Don’t make me regret showing you mercy, human.”

Visitors to our home often point out that Luna acts like she’s royalty. My answer is that she absolutely is. Luna is the queen of the house, and must approve all visitors and activities. Her gaze or glare leave no doubt of her approval or disapproval, and if she is displeased, we know it. She gives warnings by knocking things down. If her warnings are ignored, the situation is escalated to “pee outside the litter box” status. I only missed that signal once. Never ignore strike two. The consequences are dire. The one time we made her really angry (it involved fostering a puppy that annoyed her), she pooped on the bed. She got her point across. We have not made the same mistake again. If Luna ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.

Of course, it’s not all strict rules about visitors, food, and poop. Luna also is incredibly affectionate on her own terms. Probably due to being bottle fed, she is very attached to humans. She loves meeting new people and sitting in their laps. Some people are made to love cats, and cats know who they are on sight. Luna may love me, but she knows I’m not a cat person. Cat people are special. My brother in law is a cat person. Luna adores him.

Luna has shown me that love can show up in the most unexpected ways. Watching her grow from tiny runt to queen of the house has been a joy. I am honored to be owned by a mini panther.

Presently, Luna has leaped onto the arm of the couch and is reminding me that it’s bedtime. She wants to snuggle under the heated blanket. I plan to oblige.