It is a struggle to come to terms with how quickly the lives of both Mika and Sammy ended. As much as one can comprehend a viral or parasitic infection, that it can have such a devastating effect in such a short period is heart-wrenching. It is to Paul and Kat that we owe the greatest debt of gratitude as they made such great efforts to care for the cats but, in the end, were the one's who had to endured the blunt end of this tragedy.
Mika was a little spitfire. Born as an orphan she made it through the first weeks growing into this tiny little furball that was determined to survive. I first saw here in a cage at a pet food store 
only weeks after she had been born and, at 5 weeks, was given permission to take her home. Placed in a box, she bounced and jostled along as I peddled my bike as speedily as I could to my 
flat. Once there, the small bundle of fluff had to endure the wrath of Sammy's distaste towards territorial intrusion.
It only took a few days of hissing, spitting and a few good swats by Sammy before she decided that Mika was not a threat and could stay. Within the week they had become siblings. From tearing around after to curling up with, they were inseparable.
With such similar coloring but a distinct difference in size, many thought they were mother-daughter. Whatever the connection, it is clear that one could not live without the other.
Mika will be remember as the most loveably independent little orphan and the mysterious bump-under-the-blanket.
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