This is my rescue kitty, Tudi. She’s at least part Blue Russian, they said. At the shelter, there is a long, rectangular, glassed-in room where cats who are ready to be adopted live. When I walked in through the door at the end, Tudi was sitting on a high platform in the back of the room. She said, “Meow,” and came down into my arms when I approached her.
I tried out other cats for a few minutes, but Tudi had picked me so I took her home. A few hours later, she came out of hiding and began demanding food and attention. I call her Tudi, because that’s her name. Here is where her name came from: When my little brother, David, (now deceased) who was thirteen months younger than me [and who I used to call the little interloper] was a toddler and couldn’t say Susan, he would call me Tudi. Once we were grown, no one ever mentioned that until several years ago when he asked me if I remembered. Of course, I did, and was so pleased that he did, too. Both of us smiled in recognition. After all, we hadn’t been tiny people for over sixty years.
David died from brain cancer a little over two years ago. I miss him every day. And every day when I see my kitty, and I call my kitty, Tudi makes me remember my dear brother.