I was thinking about Lydia today so I thought I'd post about her. She was never the friendliest cat in the world, even to me, and she liked me. For that matter, she had only one litter of kittens, and only one of them lived. Lydia's mother, Baby Girl, was nursing her last litter of kittens, which were about two weeks old by that time. Lydia brought her one kitten over to her mom and left her to nurse it. It might be that whatever it was that caused her other kittens to be born dead made her unfit to nurse, and she realized that. But from that day, she paid no more attention to her one kitten than she did the other kittens her mom was nursing. However, Lydia was a perfect daughter to her mother, Baby Girl. For her whole long life, they would groom one another, and she often cuddled with her mom, while it was rare for her to be in the same cat bed (however large) with her sister, Cutie, for more than a few minutes without a fight. At the age of 23 or 24, Baby Girl got cancer in her mouth. It wasn't treatable, but she lived another year. Although she got to where she couldn't eat kibble anymore, I fed her the soft food, adding water to it when I needed to. Eventually, she got to where she couldn't clean herself anymore, and I hated having to bathe her because she absolutely hated it. Then Lydia took over, and kept her clean and groomed for the rest of her life. A few days after her death, it may have been coincidental, but I found Lydia lying on the rock that I had placed on her mother's grave.