This makes me so mad.
This is Daisy. She's currently just about a year and a half old. The picture on the right was taken this afternoon, while the one on the left was when she first came to live with us in mid-December.
Daisy's story goes as such: she was a 12th birthday present to my step daughter, D, from her birth mother. A matter of weeks later her mother passed away suddenly of mesothelioma. Daisy was the last thing her mother gave her.
D then came to live with us. She couldn't bring any of her belongings with her - not her clothes, her toys, and especially not Daisy. Evil Other Step Mother made sure of that.
EOSM's new wife (you read that right. She got remarried about six months after D's mother died) somehow trades us Daisy for karma points. I go to make the exchange at a neutral location with the eldest child in tow. Daisy screams the whole way home. She's tiny. Skinny. Long legs and a thin neck. She keeps expecting Taco to beat her up.
Two moths later and she is a completely different cat. She's filling out, her colour is better, and she has healthy muscular collar. She and Taco aren't quite the best of friends yet, but they play and tolerate each other. They eat beside each other and guard the house at night.
Daisy doesn't have to scrounge for scraps here. She doesn't get forgotten about, or chased by dogs.
That first picture makes me so mad because all she wanted was love. And love was all she needed to thrive. If you'll excuse me, I need to go snuggle her now.