Meet my bosses, Bodhi Jurado and Tasmania Williams. Never considered myself a cat lady, but here I am, stuck in the middle with these two. Bodhi (fat older man) weighs in at a hefty 25 pounds. Ten years ago, His mother was rescued by a co-worker from the Sun-Sentinel parking lot. A place that was a favorite dumping ground for abandoned cats. To her surprise, she took the mother cat home, not knowing the cat was pregnant! She ended up with three additional cats: two female calico cats and one male. She kept the girls and gave me the boy kitten when he was weaned from the mother.

Ruby and Slipper

At that time, I had two sisters (rescue cats). Ruby and Slipper. They were my first cats ever! The only other cats I ever played with were the feral cats hiding under my grandmother’s house in Long Island, NY; I never owned cats. But I wanted a pet; dogs were not allowed in the rental unit I had at the time. So, I told a friend I was considering getting a cat because they did allow cats. Not even an hour later, my friend knocked at my door with two kittens (sisters); how could I say no?

Ruby, slipper, and Bodhi.

Tasmania, the imposter, is not all black. She sprouted a white patch on her chest; I call it her skull necklace

When I got Bodhi from my co-worker, the sisters were 5 years old.  Slipper passed away 4 years later. ( the runt kitty). Bodhi attached himself to Ruby; they did everything together. Ruby passed away 2 years after Slipper; Bodhi was distraught and alone, meowing all through the house, calling for her. It was Cats, the musical. At this time, I owned my 55 and older condo, which did not allow cats, dogs, or pets. Here he was meowing loudly, loud enough for the next-door German neighbor with the prune face and bad attitude to hear. 

They are eating the cats!

Send in the Cats

I got Tasmania from the cat rescue place Cats Exclusive in Margate, Florida, a no-kill center that October. She was a feisty all-black (Halloween) kitten, a mini panther true to her nature. She became attached to my roommate’s sister, who was pet-sitting the cats for two weeks while my roommate and I traveled to Arizona for a Buddhist festival. That’s how she got her last name, Williams. 

I fought a tough battle with the condo police to be allowed to keep Bodhi, and in the end, I won. 

My roommate’s cats

The cats are really for my roommate, which I tell her. She is older than me, so I told her I get cats and plants to give her a hobby in retirement. She is not amused! But, she speaks cat, I don’t. I’ll feed them and clean the kitty litter box (old man Bodhi insists on using it; he refuses to use the $400 litter robot I purchased 3 months ago). That’s the extent of my interactions with them. My roommate loves those cats! I do as well, but I don’t speak cat like I said, and she is forever telling me what they said.

So, here I am, stuck in the middle with these two.