She‘s a little bit Enya. He‘s a little bit U2. Put ’em together, and you had a sort of saucy limerick.

But what happens when you split them apart?

Her name to the contrary, Ophelia wants no part in a tragedy, Shakespearean or otherwise. She was determined to beat her best bud Hamlet Lucky in the race to adoption, and this little girl had her way. But, as of this St. Patty’s day, both of our little sprites are lucky – ahem, blessed – in love.

First, the sounds of the jig from Ophelia’s new castle. Quoth her mama, with a bit of help from ‘Pheelya’s new sister Lady:

“Thank you so much for the lovely letter you sent us. In return I am sending you a photo I took about 10 days ago of my two girls playing. They are becoming such good friends. Lady has even started to groom Ophelia though the little one enjoys my brushing her even more. She is so lovable and is always asking for hugs and petting. Lady is a very different kitty now, too because she is happy and relaxed now that she has a BFF – best furry friend.

“Thank you all so much for rescuing Ophelia and giving her the best medical care and the attention she needed to become such a people-lover. She is a real treasure.

“I still pinch myself that she is so lovable coming from a feral colony and undergoing 2 surgeries already. She is so happy to be loved and have her tummy rubbed. She has taken possession of my sofa. I am trying to get a picture of this tiny kitty sitting on a blanket-covered cushion in the middle of the sofa but every time I set up the photo she has to come over to me for a hug.”

Mamaphelia, we eagerly await that photo.

Meanwhile, in Luckyville, our boy was having a bowl of…well, whatever is the opposite of Lucky Charms (let’s go with a bowl of chopped-up cold, molded mustard sandwiches).

After Ophelia’s exit, Lucky wanted something to mark this new chapter in his life. He considered a tattoo. He pondered starting a band with Edward and calling themselves Ubi Ubi Sub Ubi (which sounds high-falutin just because it’s in Latin, but – in perfect Lucky style – actually means “oh where, oh where, is my underwear?”). He very seriously considered changing his name to either Hamlet: Prince of Denmark or Omelet: Prince of Breakfast.

But change found Lucky before he could choose change.

When we moved wobbly teens MJ and JJ into Suite B, we expected no problems. The good-timey guys had always gotten along like marshmallows and whole-grain oats, so we figured they’d dance right into Suite B.

Fie and begorrah! (I have no idea what that means, but it sounds Irish and alarming.) Little did we know that JJ was hell-bent on being Lord of the Dance.

JJ took one look at Lucky, and all of a sudden Suite B was Northern Ireland c. 1972. For reasons we’ll never know, wiry little JJ decided Lucky had to pay for something – and he had to pay with the ultimate price. Even Natalie‘s attempts to cool tempers by singing “Where the Streets Have No Name” went unheeded. Lucky – the very cat who came to Tabby’s Place with a bad-boy, cat-whupping rep – was getting clobbered.

As it turns out, JJ was just jealous. As usual, the cat knew long before the daft human beans that Something Big was afoot. Lucky was about to live up to his name.

Lucky has found his forever home.

Nana Lucky, as we’ll call his AwesomeAdopter, is rocking her 9th decade on Earth, and she has more love for Lucky than the East River will have green food coloring tomorrow. Nana Lucky and her family took their goofy grey boy home on the Ides of March, and every day will be St. Patrick’s Day for them now.

As for JJ, well, let’s just say he can’t quite live with or without Lucky. LaFawnduh‘s become his latest target. But, that’s palaver for another post.

For now, may you have a four-leaf-clovery, magically delicious, and so-much-more-than-lucky weekend, dear ones. May the road rise up to meet you, and may your blessings always make you laugh at the very idea of “luck.”

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