Describing Ivy in one word would be the hardest thing anyone could ever ask of me. I just don’t think I could possibly sum up this sweet girl so simply. Ivy was extremely special to me. She was one of the cats that preceded me at Animal Aide; one of the first I was to meet upon my arrival in March 2003. It won’t be the same there without her. Ivy was a petite Japanese Bobtail of the highest order. She was affectionate when it suited her and independent when it didn’t. Ivy had no problem letting you know what she wanted and when she wanted it but few cats could be so adorable while doing it. Just look at that tongue (as seen below)! Too cute!
In the end, I gave her two nicknames – Cater-to-Ivy and Gotta-Love-Ivy. Ivy led a good life and few cats could make you fall in love quicker. I tried so hard to come up with my favourite memory of Ivy, but I just can’t narrow it down to one. There are so many in my mind and all of them came flooding back when I heard that she had died on October 27, 2008. As Ivy got older and lost her hearing, she started to look more fragile than before but Ivy didn’t believe that. You would have had a hard time convincing her that she needed to take it easier. 
Ivy loved to climb up the side of the other cat’s cages and lay in a bed up there. Once she could no longer climb or jump back down, she would stand near the edge of the cage and silently stare until someone noticed her. Then she would wait patiently while you picked her up and set her down on the floor. For Ivy, that extra help was just expected from us, not demanded. She knew how much we all loved her and it just never crossed her mind that we would ignore her needs. Not one of us could walk by her standing there without helping her. You just took one look into those eyes and your heart would melt and you were instantly willing to give her whatever she needed or wanted.
Ivy was never one for being held or cuddled, but the last few months after I would lift her down, I was able to cuddle her for a few minutes. I would then set her down on the desk and she would sit right in front of me. I would wrap my arms around her and give her kisses on the top of her head and she would give me kisses on my hands or face or whatever she could reach. Ivy seldom spoke but always managed to find a way to make her needs and wants known and we became very good at reading her mind. There were many times Ivy worried us as she would sleep in a circular position and you could seldom tell that she was breathing (as seen here) – I was forever checking her as one would a newborn baby. For nearly 6 years, Ivy has held a part of my heart and I will never forget her, nor would I want to.
