Originally named Wendy, she often gets short shrift in many areas.  On a lease, I listed her brother cat as the documented pet and snuck her in as the undocumented one to save some money.  She is the sweeter, more loyal and loving of the two.

I renamed her Liancat after my orphan grandmother because of the similarities in life stories.  Her adoption documents chronicle her story.  She was dropped off at  

the shelter after she got pregnant at her prior owner’s place.  Frightened, crying, sick, she suffers a miscarriage.  

No one wanted to adopt her for months and she had to be placed in foster care.  When it was her turn to be adopted, she came at half the adoption fee and the shelter staff couldn’t wait to send her to a forever home.

Still a true survivor and riser.  Fought off her brother when he acted like an idiot.  Comforted him during a thunderstorm.  Affectionate, the daughter says she talks to her when she’s sad.  Usually gentle, she hissed at the turtle for no apparent reason because of NYC stress.  She and I used to solve mysteries at night together, I called her Detective Inspector Liancat per British policing ranks.

The trauma remains.  In her file, there is a photo of her sleeping peacefully on her prior owner.  She was no more than 3 at the time.  More than 12 years later, she has never done that again, no matter how hard anyone has tried to get her to trust.

Liancat passed this year at the age of 16.