Nanaia first started showing up at my stray feeder in early 1999. At first, I figured she was a pet who lived somewhere in the neighborhood and was only dropping by occasionally to mooch; I didn't see her very often, and she looked well-kept and was very friendly.

However, as time went on she showed up more and more often, and began to look more like a stray than a pet. She came in one day when I hadn't seen her for awhile, and when I picked her up I realized the poor thing had been trying to nurse kittens -- and she didn't weigh more than about five pounds herself. The kittens apparently didn't live long, as she never brought them to the feeder.

Finally, she quit going away at all and simply moved into my garage. She was just too nice a cat to live as a stray, so I took her in. She was a tiny little thing, who looked like a half-grown kitten, but she was a year or two old when I adopted her. She integrated well into the household, and liked to play and snuggle with Scaramouche, whom I adopted at about the same time. He grew up to be much larger than Nanaia, but he still liked to curl up with her. Nanaia was lively and playful; her favorite toy was the "Cat Track", a hollow plastic circular track with a ping-pong ball inside and slots cut in the track so she could bat the ball around.

Nanaia was a cheerful, affectionate cat who loved to be petted and talked to. Despite her tiny size, she was a force to be reckoned with among the other cats, and no one imposed on her, even cats who were three times larger. She had a growl that sounded like a garbage disposal when her calico temper flared up at someone.

Nanaia lived a long and happy life, finally succumbing to kidney failure at age 17 (or possibly 18, since her age when I adopted her was not certain.) She was a wonderful little girl right up to the end, and I will miss her.