My Cats
- Thread starter Jsimms435
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Dracula is beautiful
Whaaaaaaaat??!? No way. ;-)
So a feral cat decided to have her kittens in the back corner of my carport, next to my husband's connected garage. Now this momma cat will eat the cat food I put out for her and the many other ferals, but she won't come near anyone.
I had named her Bear because of her severely crossed eyes, and she is a beautiful cat and nearly blind. As soon as I had seen that there might be kittens, I quit using the carport and squeezed my car onto the patio, under the plum tree. But what a mother she has proved to be over the last eight weeks! We stop by the patio doors often -- both of us -- just to watch her and the kittens, and what a joy they are!
I haven't named the kittens yet. It takes me awhile to name any of the ferals, although most have names. For example, there's Muffin -- MY cat. The mother of Muffin is a sleek black and white cat, beautiful to behold, whom I named Tux. But Muffin? Muffin is nearly the least beautiful cat I've ever seen. Rough, ragged, badly-colored, and ill-cared-for, the first words out of my mouth upon first seeing it were "What a little rag-a-muffin!" But my heart went out to the poor little thing. "I'll call it 'Muffin,' I told my husband. "'Muffin' sounds nice, and that way, it will never know what I really think."
Muffin was obviously a male. He had a male attitude. And when Tux released him from her care, he realized he was my cat and would let me touch him -- barely. But he, like the others, ate my food. Eventually, I realized who his daddy was -- an even more raggedy old man cat who had started hanging around but would run when I came out the door, even when I bore cat food.
Muffin grew to be about 16 months old, then another somewhat raggedy cat started hanging around. One dark morning, as is my habit, I looked out the patio window and saw the newer raggedy cat doing the unthinkable to my poor Muffin. Muffin came running to where he saw me in the window, still in shock at what had been done. I could hear Muffin crying out, "What was that about! Why didn't you save me?"
And I told him, "It was way too late, by the time I saw. I'm sorry, Muffin. And I guess you aren't a male." It broke my heart.
A couple days later, they were at it again.
Then, the two of them lay down side-by-side on the patio,
sharing a glass of champagne and a cigarette. They had obviously married.
Since then, Muffin watches Bear and her kittens, as though she knows and is learning what is to be expected.
I had named her Bear because of her severely crossed eyes, and she is a beautiful cat and nearly blind. As soon as I had seen that there might be kittens, I quit using the carport and squeezed my car onto the patio, under the plum tree. But what a mother she has proved to be over the last eight weeks! We stop by the patio doors often -- both of us -- just to watch her and the kittens, and what a joy they are!
I haven't named the kittens yet. It takes me awhile to name any of the ferals, although most have names. For example, there's Muffin -- MY cat. The mother of Muffin is a sleek black and white cat, beautiful to behold, whom I named Tux. But Muffin? Muffin is nearly the least beautiful cat I've ever seen. Rough, ragged, badly-colored, and ill-cared-for, the first words out of my mouth upon first seeing it were "What a little rag-a-muffin!" But my heart went out to the poor little thing. "I'll call it 'Muffin,' I told my husband. "'Muffin' sounds nice, and that way, it will never know what I really think."
Muffin was obviously a male. He had a male attitude. And when Tux released him from her care, he realized he was my cat and would let me touch him -- barely. But he, like the others, ate my food. Eventually, I realized who his daddy was -- an even more raggedy old man cat who had started hanging around but would run when I came out the door, even when I bore cat food.
Muffin grew to be about 16 months old, then another somewhat raggedy cat started hanging around. One dark morning, as is my habit, I looked out the patio window and saw the newer raggedy cat doing the unthinkable to my poor Muffin. Muffin came running to where he saw me in the window, still in shock at what had been done. I could hear Muffin crying out, "What was that about! Why didn't you save me?"
And I told him, "It was way too late, by the time I saw. I'm sorry, Muffin. And I guess you aren't a male." It broke my heart.
A couple days later, they were at it again.
Then, the two of them lay down side-by-side on the patio,
sharing a glass of champagne and a cigarette. They had obviously married.
Since then, Muffin watches Bear and her kittens, as though she knows and is learning what is to be expected.
Here's a pic of my two black brothers! Pepper, in front we had to put down with kidney failure at the age of 16 last February 2013, and Puddin' the smaller of the two of course, is now 17, and his kidneys are just starting to show some wear. Pepper was a nice cat who slept with me, but Puddy is aloof, even now being the lone cat of the house, but my daughter gives him the old workout, always chasing him---I think he likes it---and picking him up and forcing him to accept it, which seems to begrudge, but secretly likes!
Wonderful, beautiful cats! I am sorry you lost the one and sorrier yet that the other isn't feeling well. I hope he has a longer, healthier life than expected.Here's a pic of my two black brothers! Pepper, in front we had to put down with kidney failure at the age of 16 last February 2013, and Puddin' the smaller of the two of course, is now 17, and his kidneys are just starting to show some wear. Pepper was a nice cat who slept with me, but Puddy is aloof, even now being the lone cat of the house, but my daughter gives him the old workout, always chasing him---I think he likes it---and picking him up and forcing him to accept it, which seems to begrudge, but secretly likes!
I've mixed feelings about ferals and do think the policy of neutring the males in the community round here was a good thing. There can be problems with interbreeding and diseases in those communities as well as (I believe) questions about their effects on wild life.
That said, every cat we have had since living here has come that way. I'll try to introduce you in order of arrival.
Oedipus. He found my parents when they first moved here, mid to late 90's. He's a cranky old thing but still with us.
Bella. She was considered to be Oedipus's brother as they arrived the same time as kittens. We lost her (some cancer thing on her face) 3-4 years ago.
Mewan. Found as a kitten stuck up a tree. She is still with us.
Delia. Found on the footpath across the road. She was looking pretty poorly when we rescued her. Nursed her to health but a dog killed her before she saw adulthood.
Worthy. Found us as an adult. He was a big cat. Lost him to cat aides which we think he must have had all the time we had him from the feral community.
There has been another cat wandering around here the past few days btw. My mother has started putting food out for him/her. I don't know if the feral community is starting up again or what and again have mixed feelings but again, I guess it's possible we might have a new resident before the year is out.
Oh, I understand. I have spent a LOT of money getting cats fixed, but as retirement approaches, I had to stop that. One thing that happened in our neighborhood was that one year, someone systematically got rid of all the strays. The whole neighborhood was completely overrun with mice and rats for over a year. It was really bad. So I get up and feed them all every morning, giving them all the love they will allow . . . which isn't much.
Pay no attention to that dog lover.
I love cats. I have a few myself. I think cats are God's messengers. They remind us that we're not as important as we think we are. That our ego's and attitudes that put "me" first can be set aside by something as simple as the twitch of a tail. And the slow strut that walks away from the incessant human vocal pleading afforded in: "Here kitty, kitty,kitty! Oh, come on precious. Come to mommy...."
While without a backward glance that four footed humbler continues toward that patch of sunlight shining on the hardwood below the window seat. Where a tiny dust bunny dots the floor in the shadows and reminds us just when we thought we knew what we were doing we missed something.
I love cats. Especially for reminding me what a blessing it is to be human because I don't have to clean my back cheeks with my own tongue. Big plus there. Big, big plus. Huuuuge, even.
The names are my mother's idea. With the exception of Oedipus, the ones that have stayed with us all have names connected to Norwich City Football (soccer) Club. Craig Bellamy and (m)Ewan Roberts were players. Worthy comes from Nigel Worthington, a former manager. Delia Smith is a member of the board. I'd hazard a guess that Mcavity (TS Elliot's mystery cat) will get renamed to fit this scheme if he stays.
I like the name Dracula for a cat. Or dog for that matter. I can imagine the looks on the neighbors faces as you go outside to call kitty home. "Draaacula! Come on baby! Draaaacula!"