Unfortunately, the life expectancy of a farm cat is woefully short; sometimes they stick around for a year or two, but often they come and go as regularly as the weather. Her poor heart just couldn't bear it, so we decided to get a kitten for the house that would be a constant companion.
We found Sophie in the winter of 2012, and gifted her to Carys at Christmas. Aaron brought her in the house in the bottom of a brown paper bag, and Carys burst into tears immediately. We put a crate in her room so the kitten would bond to her, and my little 6-year old became an instantly responsible caretaker. She feeds and waters her, changes her litter, and gives that cat the kind of love I wish I could give every cat that wanders our way.
In return, Sophie has become her companion in play and her protector at night. She sleeps curled up next to Carys, tucked into the space behind her knees. When I come upstairs to do one last check each evening, Sophie becomes downright protective. She meows loudly at my arrival and sits up and guards her sleeping ward. Sometimes if I try to smooth Carys' hair in the night, or put my hand on her, Sophie will actually bat my hand away and meow as if to scold me for interfering.
Occasionally, Sophie will hear me coming up the stairs and she will reach her paws through the railing above my head and swat at me as I come up the steps. In the morning when I call for Carys to wake up, Sophie will come immediately to the top of the stairs and stand glaring, her tail twitching, daring me to disturb the sleeping princess further. It's all bluff and bluster - as soon as I get close she scampers away, but it delights me anyway to see her puff up all fierce and loyal.
The other night, the bond between these two became even more glaringly apparent. Carys was in the shower getting ready for bed. Sophie was standing sentry outside the door. I was in the living room, picking up the remains of a pillow fort, when I heard a vague cry coming from another room. It was a truly distressing, high-pitched cry, but I paused, trying to determine where it was coming from - the TV or one of my children? I didn't have to wonder for long - Sophie came flying at me from the other room, growling low in her throat. I started for the bathroom, but Sophie beat me to it, clawing and biting the door, while Carys wailed from the other side.
She'd squeezed the shampoo bottle too hard, and some shampoo squirted into her eyes. She was crying like someone had lit her on fire, poor thing! I started to help her wash it out, but it was harder to do with Sophie tangled up in my feet, pacing in front of the shower curtain, still meowing. I alternated between saying comforting things like, "It's okay, Carys, Mommy is getting it out," and scolding the cat with "Sophie! Get out of here!"
Ten minutes later, I had Carys dressed and bundled up on my lap in the living room. Her eyes were still red and she was still sniffling, but she had calmed considerably. Sophie perched on the back of the sofa until we got comfortable, then she carefully made her way onto Carys' lap. I watched that cat gently sniff my girl's face all over, and then she actually licked the corner of her eye. Gently, so gently, that cat was trying to do what I had been trying to do in the bathroom. Carys met her forehead to forehead, and Sophie just purred and purred and loved on her until the tears were dry.
My phone was nearby - I tried to get a picture to commemorate the moment - it was almost unbelievable to me - but these shots are the best I could get. That cat is a keeper.
