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Sammycat...
By the time I had started to read the third paragraph of your post I was in tears and am crying still as I'm writing this.
There is no doubt in my heart that your beloved boy sent those beautiful girls to you and DH so that you could rescue them,save their lives,and give them all of the TLC that they deserve to have....same as you did for him.
God Bless the both of you.
Sending Frankie and Fay Wray tons of kisses. Please deliver them for me.
And please don't ask for our forgivness...there is nothing to forgive....only to celebrate.
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All of my children have paws =^..^=
Monday report: Greetings, Schmoosters! It's a relief that you understand why we kept Frankie and Fay Wray a little to ourselves at first. The battle to try to treat their illnesses is consuming (still is), and we were very uncertain that we could truly save them (still are).
As with Schmoo, we celebrate tiny victories, and hope that by creating building blocks of these tiny victories, we can somehow give these girls a better quality of life.
About a month ago, Frankie found her voice and meowed for the first time. After 4 months, she's just started to purr. Fay Wray "squawks" because her nasal/lung problems are so severe. It doesn't matter how they talk -- we hear them loud and clear.
Another tiger with a tail trained us that way, you know. 
Sammycat ...
I couldn't resist posting this graphic when I read your heartfelt post. Frankie and Fay Wray have the best human parents in the world. 
On their behalf, THANK YOU for adopting them. I hope they thrive under your watchful eye and tender, loving care. We look forward to your stories regarding their progress. It's obvious The Schmoo is looking out for them.
Dear Sammycat and Mr. Sammycat
I am in total and complete awe of the compassion and love the two of you have. This very sad life story that you two have turned around is so very humbling, and precious. I can only imagine the feelings that Frankie and Fay Wray must be experiencing. Hearts of pure gold are living inside the both of you, and someone lives on in each beat. Mr. Schmoo.
Tuesday report: Thanks for your continued kindness about Fay Wray and Frankie. We're not doing anything that you all don't do every day -- from Newtoallthis taking care of her Porch Cafe visitors to Tissyanne keeping her Sugarbear together while taking care of a new crew in the back yard. (And Tissyanne, you're still my wingman writer -- when I read the last 2 sentences of your post today, I was so moved I burst into tears, something I seldom do).
It's been hard emotionally hard with them because -- and I know you'll know what I mean when I say this -- they're not Schmoo. I knew the first day I met him that he was a survivor with an attitude, incredibly special ... the cherry on top of the whipped cream on top of the fabulous sundae special. He was rare.
The girls are not that, and that's OK. A lot of people have stepped, literally and figuratively, on them, squelching the life out of two kitties who aren't fighters -- but at least we can fight for them and try to make it right. It's one way to honor the kitty who taught me so much about perseverance and life.
We're just starting to see inklings of personalities underneath their chronic fear and mistreatment. A good example: They were stuck with me today because I've developed some tendonitis in 2 places around the knee replacement -- so I stayed off the battlefield. Instead, I went to my desk and started working on Schmoo's book.
Well they must be channeling him somehow, because I felt like someone was staring at me. Maybe 2 someones. I looked down, and there they were at the base of my desk chair, disapproving, giving me the stink eye much as he would have, as if to say, "What are you doing home? Shouldn't you be out earning money? We've got expenses, you know." 
One thing I am seeing here, in reading between the lines of your writing Sammycat. Even though Frankie and Fay Wray are not Mr. Schmoo, through them your beautiful, sweet, and clever words have come back to life. ( Stink Eye) among others, so, this wonderful love story is coming back to life in a way none of us could have ever predicted. One heartbeat at a time.
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