Perla

Adopted 19 November 1993 – died 24 September 1997

Perla and Pandora

Pearl was her rescue name. She was one of many saved by Leslie Johnson, founder of Friends of Felines (FoF) and a friend of mine. One of FoF’s adoption venues was the Oil Capital Cat Show, Tulsa, OK. There, among breeders of pedigreed cats was the rescue organization’s booth with some of its foundlings. On 19 November 1993 I was enlisted to help and right away one cat caught my attention: A female (snow white, like my very first cat, La Precious), pressed against the far end of the cage, face wedged in a corner. She was either scared, not socialized, shy or, being a mature cat, tired of it all. If she ever learned to trust, she had lost the ability … Betrayal of trust being the essence of animal abandonment, neglect, and abuse.

Part of our job as volunteers was keeping the animals comfortable and engaged during the show. To that end, we petted her in the cage, and she didn’t look at us. We held her and she did not resist but was limp and disinterested. We showed her to a couple who talked of adopting her, taking her to live in the lap of luxury in Argentina, blah, blah … and “nada” in the end. Pearl would quietly return to the safety of the dark side of the cage, turning her rump to the world.

Who would want a cat, I wondered, whose degree of apathy was Zen-like. I did, perhaps because I can imagine the many paths that may have led to such condition.

Against all reasonable expectations, Perla, as I renamed her, joined with poise and ease the coeval Proubasta felines Calpurnia, Pandora, Mimosa, Pomponia, Mi Reina, and Petunia, and canines Jefe, Kissu, Maximus, and Estrella … It took her, however, two-and-a-half years in residence to join the general population for the breakfast brawl -- after which, the dainty lady vomited, understandably. Not once did she appear frightened by the hubbub or the pesky curiosity of her house mates. She balled up on a sofa, window sill, or somewhere preferably white and fluffy like her, and faced the new world with serenity, always observing, unafraid. She held her ground. She made no friendships but she could not hide her pleasure when Pandora, another FoF rescue and a vocal, in-your-face, extrovert, kept her company. Extreme opposites attract.

Perla was a mature cat when I adopted her and she lived only four more years. Kidney failure that claims so many cats’ lives was prolonged by futile treatment, making euthanasia a long, painful process that had a seasoned veterinarian in tears. My being selfish of her company was the final human mistake she suffered.

BobX, Leslie, and Bob Whitely came to the burial. Her box was filled with white roses.

Not forgotten, 14 years later.