Today’s post is about the kitten that I had to leave at the shelter so she could get spayed. And there is kind of a wonderful story to tell about her, aside from the fact that I got her.

A few days after ʻUkie died, when my grief was so fresh and tears were falling down my cheeks almost all day long, every day, I was getting ready for bed one night when suddenly I heard the name, “Kalakoa”, inside my head, which means calico; variegated in color, as of croton leaves. “Hmm….strange, I thought.” I mean, I’d just lost ʻUkie and was in no way ready for another cat.

Yet I knew that when I found a calico kitty, no matter how far down the road that might be, her name would be Kalakoa.

So when I saw the kitten at the shelter, and saw that black spot on her hind leg that was exactly like ʻUkie’s, I knew instantly what her name would be. Kalakoa.

This is what she looked like when I put her up in the windowsill at the shelter:

Ho da kewt, yeah? Well, I really hadn’t planned on getting a kitten. I didn’t want to go through all that rambunctiousness and terrorizing the household, yet I knew it was meant to be. It was really hard to leave her at the shelter… Tuesday seemed like a really long ways away.

And “Stash” still didn’t have a name!

Then, on Tuesday morning, I got a call from the shelter saying that Kalakoa (well, they still called her Cinnamon) did, in fact, have the feline respiratory disease and couldn’t be spayed yet. (It’s actually pretty common in shelter kitties.) Ack! They gave me the option of bringing her home and medicating her myself; they said she’d heal faster that way. Then I could bring her back to get spayed.

However, I’d just been through over a month of medicating, giving Sub-Q fluids, and being a nurse to ʻUkie…and I just wasn’t prepared to do it all over again. I just didn’t feel I could handle it. I felt bad, but I knew my limits. And I certainly didn’t want to take any chances that Stash would get it; he’d already been treated for it at the shelter but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get sick again. And setting up a kitty quarantine in the laundry room, bathing eyes several times a day and giving meds…. well, I just didn’t have it in me. So I told the nice lady at the shelter that I was going to let her get treated there. She told me I could call as often as I wanted to see how “Cinnamon” was doing.

Just about that time, I suddenly knew what Stash’s new name would be. For one thing, it had to be Hawaiian; all of our pets have Hawaiian names. But just like Kalakoa’s name coming to me, so did his.

The boy had a name!! And I thought it was just perfect for him. I was lying down with him, having some snuggle time. He was lying on my chest, and I was just letting my mind drift while petting him. Suddenly, the name was there.

It’s Keola.

Ever since ‘Ukulele died, the house had been so quiet, and I was focused on how much I missed her, how quiet the house was, that she’d died and I was lonely. And I just knew was BoyCat’s name should be.

It means Life, health, well-being, living, salvation; alive, living; spared, recovered; healed; to live; save, heal, grant life, survive, thrive.

Now how perfect was that!! He was spared. He brought new life into this house. He was healthy. He was saved and he would thrive.

May I present…. for the first time, sort of…Keola!!