Luna was living on the streets of San Francisco, in the Tender Nob (i.e., the swath between Nob (Nabob) Hill and the Tenderloin) with her nearly starved mother and sister when she and her sister were rescued. Her mother died on the spot. Did seeing her kittens being cared for free her to leave this saha world?
Luna (already so named when we adopted her from Harold Brown – aka “H”, her rescuer) is a brilliant little thing with some kind of lung damage. Dr. Doe pointed out that it’s impossible to tell what kind of nasty stuff she was exposed to as an extremely wild little kitten living on the streets downtown.
As I said, she’s brilliant. But don’t let her tell you that she’s mastered the Nimzo-Indian Defence. She blunders frequently when playing that defence, and if you ask her to write down the first 15 moves of a fairly common variation, she refuses – but not because she just can’t be bothered. The real reason is that she can never remember the best response beyond about 12 moves.
Well, that was in her headier, more intellectual days in San Francisco. These days, in Willits, she prefers to curl up in the laundry after it comes out of the dryer.