Dilys was the first, circa 1980.

Unwanted or abandoned, I can’t remember how she came our way but she left small dollops around the apartment until the vet sorted her intestinal issues.

This was on 96th and West End Avenue and, of course, when we moved to downtown Brooklyn she came too.

It wasn’t long before Mary Ellen alerted us to a cat she had rescued on Dean Street.

Dilys did a double take from her perch on the bed when she first set eyes on Elspeth.

It was the last time she was ever on top. Elspeth was an alpha – a natural autocrat – who ruled with an iron fist. Dilys was now definitely second cat.

There was always something hapless about Dilys. In Woodstock one summer she fell in an ornamental pond while fishing and then got stuck up a tree in a thunderstorm and had to be rescued.

That house came with an English sheepdog style mutt and a very athletic white cat – Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. Elspeth had no issues with Tashi – a friendly enough animal – but went head-to-head with the cat which entailed wild chases all over the house and grounds. 

Elspeth was sweet and affectionate but could be fierce and very possessive.

Jo-Anne called her an anti-semite on more than one occasion when she received a severe hissing for doing something that broke Elspeth’s rules for human conduct.

One summer she chased a horse and rider down Meeting House Lane in Amagansett.

In the garden in East Quogue, she marked her territory – the only one of the cats that took to territorial spraying.

She once notoriously backed up to Dierdre’s leg and gave her a full dose. No doubt she had overstepped one of Elspeth’s boundary rules and needed a lesson.

We installed a cat door that also gave free entry to our neighbor – Kitty-Cat – a large friendly well-cared-for grey with a very healthy appetite and a habit of dropping by.

One day a mockingbird swept down and pecked him on the rear end while he was strolling across the yard. 

There came the day that Dilys didn’t come home.

She was not one to wander far and we were not close to any roads with traffic. Of course, we scoured the neighborhood and plastered the light poles with signs. Marjorie drove over from Sag Harbor to help look for her. We never knew what happened to her.

Felicity

In Brooklyn, we saw a notice about cats needing homes. I visited what I think now must have been a cat hoarder –  multiple cats in a small apartment. I went home with a small stripey job. She was extremely timid and had already been returned once as not amenable. This was a rehabilitation challenge.

We put her in a small quiet room to help her adjust to the new life.  She hid at the back of the open-door carrier, emerging only when no one was around. We called her Felicity Squidget. I made the mistake of reaching for her and she bit my thumb requiring a visit to Bellevue Hospital where the magic words – “Dr. Delaney” – guaranteed royal treatment in the ER. (I am sure they treated everyone well – it’s just that Kathy’s name perked everyone up.)

Eventually, Felicity gained confidence and one day she came out into the living room and climbed on the couch. She had a habit of hiding her head in the cushions as if to say: “I can’t see you therefore you can’t see me.” This behavior was no threat to top cat and Elspeth took little notice.

Bridget

The same could not be said of Bridget

Just as we were about to leave the house to return to the city one Sunday, we heard a cat mewing up a tree just across from the front porch. It was beginning to get dark and it looked like Dilys had returned. With the help of a ladder, I brought her down. She looked a bit like Dilys – ginger and white but with tabby patches.  And that’s how we got Bridget.

Bridget was a fighter. And no, she was not going to back down to Elspeth even though she was always bested in any tussle. She didn’t have a conciliatory bone in her body and she and Elspeth were locked into perpetual competition. We tried to find where she had come from but no one in the neighborhood claimed any knowledge. We guess she was abandoned by someone who found her personality a little too abrasive.

So now we had three cats to transport back and forth each weekend.

Eventually, the ever-loyal, possessive Elspeth went the way of all cats, felled by kidney disease.

Felicity by now was as bold and outgoing as she would ever be. She had been litter trained on newspaper and to encourage her to use the outdoors I put the tray out on the back deck as a way station. Late one August night I was working at the kitchen table on the ever-exasperating school schedule when I heard a noise outside. I put on the outside light and there was a young possum – rolling and luxuriating in the cat-pee-soaked newspaper.  

Gentleman Caller and Nesreen

Another summer a young male cat with a very bushy tail came wandering by. He seemed very interested in the two females – Bridget and Felicity – but he kept a respectful distance.

His visits became more frequent. No one in the neighborhood claimed ownership and he became a permanent member of the household.  We called him Gentleman Caller, Mr. G. for short. Maxine called him The Gent.

When Bridget died we buried her in the wooded area at the back of the house.

In 1996 we moved from Brooklyn to Morningside Heights. Felicity had never been a very well cat – she always had breathing issues and congestion. She became sickly and a swelling on her head led us to take her to the animal hospital.  She was not to last much longer. When Felicity succumbed to her final illness we were left with just one cat – Mr. G.

“You need a back-up cat,” our neighbor Bunny said, drawing our attention to a building notice:  

And so, just before Thanksgiving 2005, Nesreen joined us. She took to Mr. G. as a parental figure and even tried to nurse. Genial, forbearing Mr.G. tolerated her attentions.

Nesreen and Mrs Dalloway

This was the first, last, and only cat that Nesreen could abide. The very sight of a cat through a window was enough to put her into full outrage mode. We didn’t refer to her as the Insurgent for nothing.

And from the start – what a talker!  She got herself into a scrap and a bite turned infectious so she had to be kept overnight at Riverhead Animal Hospital. They were so happy to see us pick her up the next morning. She had yowled at top volume throughout the night.

Nesreen was a cat of deep feelings and strong opinions. She was always ready to register them. 

When a new job took me to Poughkeepsie the cats came too but within a few months, Mr.G was felled by a fast-moving cancer.  After a while, we thought a second cat would be good company for Nesreen. We chose Mrs Dalloway from the Southhampton Animal Shelter because of her calm and placid ways. She had had kittens and had been used as a wet nurse for abandoned strays.

We thought she would be a good companion to the ever-frisky Nesreen.  Mistake. Nesreen never accepted the presence of Mrs Dalloway. With one brief and remarkable exception, it was an uneasy truce at best, and open warfare at worst. Mrs. D was adept at avoiding the worst of the trouble and she developed some canny workaround strategies. 

They did keep each other occupied and entertained with wild chases and noisy spats. Nesreen might well have appeared the victor in these power struggles, but Mrs D never missed getting to the food bowl.

When Nesreen inexplicably lost a front tooth, the cat-wise vet Dr. Nippert suggested we look in Mrs. Dalloway’s head.

There was one brief moment when Nesreen forgot that Mrs. D. was her mortal enemy and she climbed into the same roundy.

Perhaps we had not put the heating up high enough for the princess. But the detente did not last long. 

Any period of silence was eerie and usually signaled that some small mammal was in danger. This was a preoccupation they shared and the only time when they showed any hint of comradeship and collaboration.

Nesreen was a useless hunter, but patient and focused Mrs.D brought several chipmunks into the house. They promptly scurried to safety behind the baseboard heating system from where I captured and released them back outside.

The day came when I found Mrs Dalloway dead on the bathroom floor. Nesreen was now the one and only – the position she retained until last week when she made her last journey.

For the handful of Nesreen aficionados, here’s the 2005-2024 showreel. Watch it to see Nesreen the kitten, singer, political activist, wildlife observer, pickle maker, leafy greens lover, book reader, art critic, and much-loved one-of-a-kind animal companion.