Hosea’s wife was pregnant and the prophet knew he was not the father. (Now that’s awkward!) I wonder if he told Gomer he knew the truth.  One can only imagine what degree of domestic tranquility the following months brought! At any rate, when the baby was born Hosea said they should call him Lo-Ammi, which means, “not my people”. 

                               This story is found in the first chapter of Hosea, and it’s where we got the name for the kitten.  

                              Monica was about ten years old and she had found a little injured ball of fur in the street in front of our house. We couldn’t tell if it had been attacked by a dog or hit by a car, but it was pretty badly mauled. She cleaned it up and bandaged its mangled tail, and put it in a box with some food.  “Can we keep it? Please?”

                            We already had two cats and a dog, so I was pretty sure John would say we didn’t need another cat.  He’s not a big cat lover to begin with.

                           “We don’t need another cat.” As I had expected John was adamant. But he did agree that Monica could nurse the kitten back to health and try to find a home for her.

                            “We can call her LoAmmi,” I told Monica, “since she’s not our cat.” I was halfway joking, but the name stuck.

                              LoAmmi recovered and thrived.  We asked everyone we knew if they wanted a kitten; a very nice kitten, a very cute kitten… except for her crooked tail.  

More or less resounding refusals from every quarter!

                           I talked with my friends – Lori’s husband said maybe, but Lori said absolutely not! Colleen was somewhat interested but Tony was unequivocal in his refusal. Robyn and Chuck just laughed.

                             Monica called the humane society and was told that they could put the kitten to sleep, humanely…for a fee. 

                            “I don’t want them to kill her!” Monica wailed. We particularly didn’t want to pay to have her killed.

                              Time passed and LoAmmi was not living up to her name! She was, in fact, beginning to wiggle her way into all of our affections. But we didn’t need another cat.

                          As a last resort, Monica put the kitten in a tall cardboard box with a blanket, and set it outside our back gate with a sign that said “Free to a good home.”   LoAmmi managed to climb out of the box, over the gate and back into our yard.

                         That night Monica told John the story,  “Daddy it was so cute! She’s so little and she got out of that big box.  And that fence is so high and she climbed all the way over it and came walking right up to the back door.” 

                         John pondered this for a few moments. I think he also rolled his eyes, realizing he was in checkmate. “Well, if she’s going to stay here we’d better get her fixed.”

                           And so LoAmmi became our kitty in fact, if not in name. 

                          We had had three cats over the years before we got LoAmmi. They were all well-loved, and declawed, and actually allowed to live in the house. They were all handsome cats and good pets, but none of them loved us like this little stray with the crooked tail. 

                           LoAmmi never became a house cat, but every time the door is opened she’s there to rub herself against the leg and say hello, or to roll onto her back for a belly rub. We have never known a cat that liked people as much as she does.

                           LoAmmi (LoLo) has been with us for many years now, and even John remarks that the little cat is all about relationships.  He insists that she must be part dog.