Let’s make one thing very clear right off the bat: realistically, neither Polly nor Virginnia is adoptable. They have been with us since early March of 2019, and despite years of consistency, patience, and respect for their boundaries, we have made little to no progress with either of them—and that’s okay. The purpose of this biography is not adoption. Because Polly is GORGEOUS and Gin is essentially a bowling pin wrapped in fur—with the bitchiest RBF you’ve ever seen – we wanted to share some candid photo. More importantly, we believe every cat—regardless of temperament or status—deserves to have their history documented and their day-to-day lives acknowledged, even if only in small ways. Many of you may remember these two ladies as the final remaining members of a group we affectionately dubbed “The Timid Ten.” They were abandoned behind our shelter back when we were located in NE Grand Rapids, arriving in two separate dumps, in March of 2019. First came seven cats who were clearly related in some way, shape, or form. Fifteen days later, the remaining three were left behind. A note included with the first box offered a sob story we didn’t quite buy—the details didn’t add up, and the logistics didn’t make sense. But none of that mattered. We took all of them in, despite the enormous stress it caused for both humans and cats and did our best to make something livable out of an awful situation. Neglect, inbreeding (resulting in pregnancies in four of the five females), illness, and deep-seated fear plagued these forlorn felines. When cats are terrified, many respond with aggression—and honestly, who could blame them? I had recently watched a show called Claws, so the naming felt especially fitting, as the majority of them slapped, sliced, and wore their murder mittens with absolute pride. Thus, Brice, Dean, Desna, Dr. Ken, Jenn, Polly, Quiet Ann, Roller, Uncle Daddy, and Virginnia officially became Crash Cats—much to the dismay of many of them. Over time, we were able to confidently adopt out Dr. Ken, Jenn, Quiet Ann, and Uncle Daddy as they grew healthier, stronger, and—dare I say—braver. 😊 Sadly, deep-seated illnesses eventually claimed Brice, Dean, Desna, and Roller. While their losses were painful, I take comfort in knowing that while they were with us, they lacked for nothing. That leaves Polly and Virginnia. They have chosen not to repay our kindness with even the smallest hint of appreciation or affection—and that’s fine by us. Apparently, we’re gluttons for punishment. 😊 We estimate they were both born in late 2016, and it’s very possible they were mothers to some of the younger cats. There was a definite sister-wife vibe going on in that group. Polly will always be timid, but she is far more social than we ever expected her to be. While adoption is not on the table in the traditional sense, we would consider allowing her to leave the shelter under exactly one circumstance: if a trusted volunteer—someone who truly knows her quirks, habits, and behavior patterns—wanted to try her in their home. Virginnia — yikes. She will always rank among our most feral residents, second only to Rhys. She does not forgive, and she certainly does not forget—anyone who has ever medicated her is permanently on her list. This lady holds a grudge like a professional. Gin is a big girl with an even bigger attitude. She has made it abundantly clear that she would prefer to stay exactly where she is and continue being her ornery, unbothered self. After all, hating us has become her favorite pastime, and starting over somewhere new would require far too much effort—something she avoids whenever possible. 😊 Polly and Virginnia will remain exactly where they belong: safe, provided for, respected on their own terms, and very much part of the fabric of who we are. Not every cat’s story ends in a home. Some end in belonging.