She was born in my friend Tracey's apartment on the corner of Spring and King Streets in Hamilton, Ontario on May 23rd, 1986 at about 1 in the afternoon. I told my friends to call me once the deed was done; i have such a weak stomach. But i made it just as the kittens were being born. Tracey noticed one kitten had a "half diamond" on her forhead, and thus, she was named Diamond.
There was only one other kitten born, a shorthaired orange tabby that looked so much like his dad it was weird. Since my family had an orange tabby when i was a kid, i really wanted the other kitten. But Diamond had other ideas. She would follow me around and i would tell her to get back to Ocean, her mom... but i guess she adopted me. Scot, Tracey's roomate really liked Diamond and he had a bit of a hard time letting her go. I even offered for him to keep her, but they already had 2 cats (and i both of them were fixed shortly after these kittens were born!). Scot visited Diamond for a while, but we lost touch.
When Diamond was about a year, she began having digestive problems and i spent more money than i had for her surgery. I sacrificed the way any good mom is supposed to. I went hungry to pay her medical bills. And she made it through ok. With a fairly strict diet that thankfully wasn't expensive.
We moved around a lot... within Hamilton, and she moved in with my parents for a while when i was ill, and then when i was in England for 18 months, and from one coast of Canada (Hailifax) to another (Vancouver), and then back to Ontario. She even moved to the US of A with me when i married my sweet hubby.
Shortly after that, she adopted him, too.
She surprised him a few times... like when she made the most horrific noises at a cat at the glass door in our basement in Knoxville. She surprised me when she killed her first mouse, too... she seemed so mild mannered. She became a very poor mouser in her old age, however. We had to practically throw her on a field mouse that got in our house in Knoxville, and she still didn't manage to catch it.
Sometimes, she was very uncatlike. She made good friends with all the other animals i brought home including a rat, a mouse, turtles, fish and her bestest buddy, Oscar the rabbit. Named after Oscar Wilde, but he wasn't so wild himself. She would play with him, chase him around my apartment, and then, she would run from him chasing her. When he died, she wouldn't get out of his cage for a couple of days. I understood how she felt... i missed him, too.
When she got to be about 16, i noticed a bit of a change in her... i could see she was slowing down, even if i did not want to admit it. On my 35th birthday, when she was 17, we were supposed to be away on a holiday, and instead we spent the day fretting over her medical tests... more digestive problems. That never went away. She had a muscle problem that resultied in her not being able to poop out what was in her body.... she had to have enemas regularly and it was torture for her. Then, one day, she tried to jump up on our bed, and missed. She limped slightly on and off for a while, but this was worse, The vet thought she might have had a stroke, and the problem with her digestion could be part of it, since it was exellerating. I made the torturous decision that she should not be tortured any longer.
On October 25, 2004, she took her last breath. She never got the chance to live here with us in Buffalo. I wish she did. I miss her. I would tolerate her long white fur up my nose and on all of my black clothing right now if i could.
This is the last picture of her that was ever taken...
