When the boys were small, we lived two years in Thailand. My husband's work required that he travel quite a bit, and my oldest son started 1st grade. We acquired a very sweet and beautiful Calico which we renamed Molly. But I was still a little lonely. Often, after the younger boys and I finished grocery shopping at Carrefore, we would stop in the small pet shop on the bottom floor of the building. One little black kitten there, in particular, tugged at our heartstrings. Whenever we approached, she would come up to the side of the cage, stand up, and touch her paw to my fingertip. So one day, while my forbearing husband was away, we brought her home with us. It took our mature, senior cat, Molly, and Katie (our new kitten) a while to adjust to each other. Much to Molly's chagrin, Katie was quite playful and took great joy in pouncing on and generally irritating her. In the course of asserting her supremacy, Molly gave Katie a severe gash which necessitated a trip to the vet and stitches. From this incident on, our two pets were as mother and daughter.
Both cats were dear to us, but Molly sort of drifted away (staying out for days at a time) as Katie grew up and had kittens of her own (twice). I'm not sure if Katie is typical of all Thai cats or not. She had sleek black fur and golden eyes. Her mew was incredibly loud like the sound of a crying toddler and she talked all the time. She had a warm, affectionate heart. Her "love language" must have been physical touch, and she was extremely perceptive and thoughtful. She birthed her first litter of kittens in the boys' sock tray and proved to be a very conscientious mother, grabbing her children by the scruff of their necks and attempting to drag them back upstairs when they had become big and frisky enough for us to take out to play.
The first litter.
When we moved back to China, Katie and Moses (her only kitten we had not given away) had to stay behind. They went to roam and explore the new smells and wild life at a friend's rural Thai farm.