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Notice: Cats Only (Well….ok..maybe Bob..)
Our favorite pooch, Bob, graced another post by @kentforrester, that shameless author that throws in pictures of him, hoping for more “Likes”. He challenged me to write a cat story since he seems to think we cat lovers have been staying in the shadows. Well, that’s where cats prefer to be. But I should begin at the beginning…. and say that I had always been a dog person – no cats. That was until we moved to the North Georgia mountains.
Fresh from Boston, we took up residence in my husband’s grandmother’s four-room, tin-roof house. We wanted to head back South, but not the bustle of Atlanta. His grandma’s house was unoccupied and needed attention. We rolled up our sleeves and turned it into a sweet dwelling with some paint, flowers, and lots of Lysol. It had a red smokehouse, and the only job I could find was with a log home company. I had to answer the phone with a cheerful, “It’s a great day at Fireside!”. The owner had his own sawmill and used expressions like “great balls of fire!”. The local plumber gave my husband a mason jar of white lightning to clear his sinuses. It worked…
One day, while hauling our trash to the dump (no pickup), we heard yelping. We found two pups thrown into the dumpster! My husband crawled in and got them out. I couldn’t believe it! I found homes for both after writing a story to the local paper in their words – a dog’s perspective. The local kennel received tons of calls. Then another dump run was where we found Pootsie.
This one-year-old calico sidled up to my husband who quickly picked her up and shoved her in the car. I said wait a minute, I don’t want a cat! What are you doing? He said, “Give it a chance; look how unusual her coloring is!” Once we were home, she started ‘pawing’ his knees and purring. I said what is she doing? He said she’s just happy. Soon she took control, and we fell in love with her. Isn’t that how it happens? Then she got pregnant! I thought she was eating too much, and took her to the vet. Aside from that, something else was clearly wrong. The country vet, who just got back from rescuing a baby bear whose mother was hit by a car, identified it as feline leukemia. He said it would be touch and go, and stayed with her all night, administering antibiotics. I picked her up and took over the treatment. Banana flavored meds (that went over well) administered via a vial to a delirious cat who tried to eat her litter. I was determined to save her. I delivered water via the vial, and egg yolk to give her strength. She was with us for 18 years.
Our current kitty was adopted from a local pound. She prefers her name not be revealed, as she likes to be mysterious. My selection of her came about during a search for TC, after he went missing. I knew I wouldn’t have TC, also adopted, for long. He was a boy and dumb as a doornail, but so lovable. I would find him swinging from the top of a palm tree. One day he came back from wandering with a crab claw stuck to his lip. He would sail off the second-floor staircase chasing his toys. The worst was when he came home half coated in motor oil. I had to get him in the tub with Dawn, like the ducks in the oil spill commercial. When he went missing, the neighbors said he was fearless. He sauntered past the neighborhood dogs like they weren’t even there. This was news to me! I didn’t know he wandered beyond the property! Despite a search, I never found him, but our current kitty was a look-alike, only female…..much more sensible and obedient.
She has a story to tell too…..and that is for another day. For now, here is a couple of photos, and me in my last Halloween quick costume suggestion, from her of course. So that’s the short version of how I came to love cats. I’d love to hear your story or see your pictures! We could all use a little cheer.
I don’t know who’s cuter–you or the kitty!
He is shameless isn’t he? Fun post FSC. Oh, and you can put me down as a cat person.
Double post. Not sure what happened but every time I tried to post I was told that the post couldn’t be completed.
See above.
See above.
See above.
Wonderful piece of writing, Mrs. Cat. I was just kidding about cats. I love them. Until Bob the dog, Marie and I always had cats. We had Fluffy and Frisky and Bounce and Blackie and Pussycat and. . . . Six or seven others.
I wrote a post about the death of our last cat, Ebbie, awhile back. I think I called it “The Death of a Cat.” Ebbie is buried in our front yard.
Back to your post. It’s really good, full of evocative details. I just plain enjoyed reading it.
A wonderful post. I took @kentforresters words to heart also. Working on it.
I was never a cat person, but the late Mr. Cynthonian was. We got married and moved to WA shortly thereafter, into a house we bought from his mother, who was also a cat person. She had given her cat to the neighbors when she moved to Hawaii. The cat was a handsome short-haired tuxedo with clear topaz eyes. Periodically the cat would stroll over from the neighbors’ house and scratch at the back door. Cat Mojo DH would let it in and it would patrol the house, occasionally letting out a loud meow. We figured he was demanding to know what we’d done with MiL. Eventually he would return to the back door and scratch to be let out.
After a year or so of this, one day the cat entered as usual, performed his patrol, then plopped down in the den. Clearly, he had decided to stay. My DH was happy to have him with us, and immediately opened a can of tuna, set down a pan of water, and improvised a litter box. He contacted the neighbors; turned out they’d gotten a dog, and the two did not get along. They were fine with us taking in MiL’s cat. He had a name (“Ivan”) but we rarely used it. It didn’t suit him. DH dubbed him “Boy-Boy” and it stuck. Imaginative, eh?
Meanwhile, I protested that I didn’t want a cat. It would scratch my furniture and pee on my carpets. My rule was that my DH and my stepdaughter, who lived with us at the time, had to do the cat care, if it was going to stay. The cat must have heard me. We had a futon in our den at the time. The cat would cuddle up next to me while I was watching TV. Pretty soon I caught myself petting it, talking to it, etc. Stepdaughter was supposed to do the feeding, but she was a late sleeper and the poor cat would go hours with no proper breakfast. I started feeding it.
Yep….I got attached.
I told my veterinarian that story later, and she smiled and said, “Cats know who they have to win over.”
P.S. He did scratch my furniture occasionally. I threw blankets over the upholstered furniture and forgave him.
P.P.S. The two were practically inseparable for the rest of my DH’s life. He was a smart, affectionate, people-oriented cat. Good mouser, too! I lost my DH in 2014 and our sweet Boy-Boy in 2016. I went about two months with no cat, and I couldn’t stand it. Current kitty was adopted from a shelter. She is also a short-haired tuxedo, this time with beautiful green eyes. I didn’t like her original name, so I renamed her “Gigi.” Much more fitting.
Like cats but left the Mom cat and her offspring who had adopted us in Utah when we left last year. The Mom cat looked almost like yours in the picture. But the North Georgia mountains always gets my attention. My grandmother was born and grew up in Hiawassee, Ga. You didn’t actually mention your neighborhood. Near Hiawassee or Brasstown Bald?
One of my favorite cats of all time was Pookie. I discovered him in a field, where his mother must have birthed him, and then wandered off. He was a pathetic mess who couldn’t have been more than a few hours old, and he’d got his umbilical cord wrapped around a blade of grass. For such a tiny thing, he was putting out quite a racket.
I put him in a shoebox with some sheep fleece and a ticking alarm clock, and gave him a tiny bit of whiskey in a syringe to warm him up because he was shivering. Then I headed for the pet store to find milk replacer.
He’s the only kitten I’ve successfully raised from such a very young age (I’ve bottle fed lots of cats in the years since, but the ones who’ve survived have all been older when I started.) He was a very determined little guy, though. Ugly as sin to start out with, eyes closed, gray, looked like he had bits of fur stuck on here and there, but otherwise quite bald.
He grew into a beautiful, Persian-looking cat with an inner ear disorder and a balance problem (just like me)! One day he escaped the house, and I was distraught for days because I couldn’t find him. Eventually, after a tremendous thunderstorm the night before, I found him about 40′ up a tree, about 1/4 mile down the road, hanging on for dear life.
I knew he’d never get down, between his ear troubles and his balance problem. So I called one of two local fire departments. They get cats out of trees, right? Wrong. They laughed at me. So I called the other local fire department, who sent their ladder truck out on its October “drill” exercise. A wonderful young man called Dave (a cat-lover) took the ladder as far as it would go, and then climbed the rest of the way up the tree, grabbed Pookie by the scruff of his neck, clasped him to his chest, and came back down. Pookie was beside himself, and I thought Dave was going to have to wear him there for the rest of the day, but we eventually detached him, and the nice firemen went on their way.
Pookie lived to the grand old age of 19. I don’t think he ever went outside again.
Here’s a cat story that is on my mind because it’s ongoing.
We always had cats,then kids, then dogs, more cats as well as rats, hamsters and tropical fish. Currently down to one old fat cat and one young energetic dog.
Cat came home from a rescue in 2004. Mrs. Chef was in her Trekkie period and insisted on a Star Trek reference cat name. So I named the little fuzzy ball of fluff Crusher and it stuck. Tee-hee.
A week ago today poor Crusher went down. Crawled under the desk in my study and curled up, no food, no water. “Oh-oh”, thinks I. This is the end. We put her favorite basket and my electric radiator right nearby with a water bowl and waited for the inevitable. Lo and behold after four days of roasting like a little catsausage she emerged crying for breakfast. Her right eye was completely obscured by what looked like blood. No iris was visible. I supposed a stroke or aneurysm of some type had occurred.
Now over the ensuing days the blood has receded, rolling down the eyeball like a shade opening from the top. Today most of the iris is visible with a quarter of the eye still obscured. She is getting around ok but not eating like she did before.
So who knows? Maybe old fat cat will live to be 20 year old skinny cat.
Cats? what kind of cats are we talking about here?
But we do have a few that seems to get into, or on, things….
These two are sisters, we got them at about 4 weeks of age from a stray that had a litter of 6 and was not doing too well hanging them.
My family seems to be suckers for strays.
Mrs. She, I’m looking forward to it. And I’m not just blowing smoke. I’m looking forward to it.
Medicinal purposes. Highly recommended.
It’s a good cobra repellent too.
But there aren’t any cobras for thousands of miles, you say.
Exactly.
Thanks. Try to think of it as “Revenge of the Crazy Cat Women, Part Deux.”
Never knew you were so prayerful
Ok Already!
It was East Ellijay – we left there a long time ago.
Pookie and Pootsie – sounds like they would have been friends. So that’s the trick, start them off with a wee bit of whiskey?
Wow! good thing Crusher still has a few of the nine lives left!
I think it may be. Worked for me, after all! (My mother used to rub it on my gums when I was teething.)
We had something similar happen to one of our cats, Morgan. Found him hiding in a closet and noticed one of his eyes had changed colors. Took him to the vet and found out he had high blood pressure, and probably had had a retinal bleed. He had to go on medication. He was already in chronic renal failure and was on fluids and some medication for that, but we kept him going for 3.5 years after discovering the renal failure, then the hypertension on top of that. The eye did eventually clear up, but we don’t think he ever saw very well out of it. He was a great cat, but very complicated to take care of at the end, which for him was at about age 16.
Fierce Guard Cat. When Kikyo is not on my lap, she sits facing out, protecting me from ?
Ray actually put her up there.
Plus, there are other applications:
I hope you got permission to post photos of my cousins. That stuff won’t keep the copperheads away.
Your cousins? Are we related?
I think that would work! Multi- purpose!
I have too many photos to even count, let alone sort through and select from. So I’ll settle for these.
Modern kitten adoption: