We have a winner.......

THE WINNER IS .... SMUDGE!!!!

Congratyulayshuns to Smudge's guy for riting such a tuching tale of devoshun. And thanks to all the partisipants. This is a fenominul body of werk, and yer all so lukkey to have peepul hoo love yoo as much as they do!

Quick links to all the entries:

• Luxor
• Samoa, Violet, and Calvin
• Latte
• Kaze
• Smudge
• Libby Marie Riley
• Boogers
• Mu shue Pooh
• Lilly
• Dazey and Jesse
• Pippin
• Jeter Harris
• Merlin
• Atlas
• Upsie
• Jake & Bathsheba
• Eclair
• Fat Eric
• Abby
• Andre & N'bikay
• Boni Maroni
• Princess Ziporah (Zippy)
• OC
• Kismet!
• Conner Cloud
• Cheeto
• Rosie
• DaisyMae Maus
• Angela
• Mao
• Skeezix
• Rocky the Gutter Cat

NOTE: If you have entered and want to link directly to your "Tale," right click on the link above and view its properties.

My Tail of Devotion to Angela

Angela Angela my little girl. It was through love you were adopted and through love you shall live.

Angela was adopted by myself from Petland because i love labs. I had a lab i had had since childhood die and wanted another lab to take her place. Angela was the shyest girl at petland but i loved her anyways and adopted her. I hope i never have to part with her.

Sincerely,
Becca

BFF: DaisyMae Maus and Me

Link to my blog: DaisyMae Maus and the Feline Americans

My students often ask where I’ve gotten my pets and my usual response is that they’ve just “shown up” and I’ve taken them in because no one else seemed interested in doing the right thing. I’ve loved and cared for each of these cats without favoring one over the others ... Until I met DaisyMae Maus. There are special animals, and then there’s DaisyMae. People anthropomorphize their pets and claim that they are their furry “kids.” DaisyMae is different. She’s not my furry child; she’s my friend. I value her friendship even more so than that of my human friends. We communicate on a very deep level; me with my voice and tummy rubs; she with her eyes, body language, and innate ability to sense when something is lacking. She’s been this way from the first moment that I met her. We bonded immediately as if we’d been together in a former life and had known each other forever.

DaisyMae Maus’s mother belonged to a woman living up the street who was futilely trying to raise eight children (and who was barely keeping her head above water) so she had little time for herself, let alone a pet. The mother cat, Patches, gave birth to three very cute kittens and died soon after due to poisoning. The kittens were left to fend for themselves against eight children who were alternately neglectful and cruel. They ate what they could find which was usually pizza crust or cheap dog food (Why not catfood? I have no idea.). Fortunately, the middle child who had some empathy for the kittens, knew that I had cats of my own, so he brought his kittens down to meet me so that he could ask for advice. His kittens found that they liked my attention and calmness, and would come running as soon as I arrived home from work each day. The boy had named them “Frisky,” “Fuzzball,” and “Spot.” “Frisky” became DaisyMae (DaisyMae told me that her name was “Maus,” so that became tacked on and is used as a nickname); “Fuzzball,” her brother, became Huckleberry Finn; and the other girl became Priscilla.

Nearly a year passed with daily visits. The kittens grew into well-adjusted cats who were spending more and more time at my house. I would sneak them into my house to bathe them, remove their fleas, and put ointment on Finny’s sunburned ears. I smuggled them to the mobile pet vet for shots and to have them altered. For all intents and purposes, I was caring for the neighbor’s pets as if they were my own ... and each evening, the middle child would come to collect his cats and usher them home. Little did he know that they were climbing out the window and coming back to sleep on my patio.

DaisyMae Maus was becoming the most attached and the most fiercely committed to me. I taught her to come to me by making a “kiss-kiss” sound. Where ever she was, she’d immediately stop what she was doing and come running to my side. She’d climb up the chainlink fence each night so that she could sleep on top of the metal storage shed outside my bedroom window. Hers was the last face I saw before I went to bed and the first face I saw each morning. She’d scooch herself up against the window screen so that I could pet her fur through the screen and she’d purr the most delicious, throaty purr I’d ever heard ... But as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring her and her siblings in to live with me because they didn’t belong to me.


The neighbors began making preparations to move to Oregon and I was devastated. They were going to take the cats away where they’d most certainly meet violent ends. As the moving van got packed, I waited for the middle child to come and collect his pets. Darkness fell, yet the cats stayed on my patio. The tension was palpable and I silently prayed that they would abandon at least Huckleberry Finn and DaisyMae Maus as I knew that Priscilla belonged to the mother. And I was right. The moving van drove away without my two patio dwellers. They’d been abandoned.

After the red tail lights disappeared around the corner, I scooped up both cats and brought them inside ... to stay. I’d never seen two cats more grateful to be indoors and loved. That first night, DaisyMae Maus slept at the head of my bed right next to my pillow and purred non-stop.

Both lived happily in my household with the other Feline Americans until Huckleberry Finn’s death in May of 2005. Since they were birthmates and amazingly close, I was worried that DaisyMae might mourn her brother and become depressed as some closely bonded cats will do. I needn’t have worried. DaisyMae cuddled with me and we grieved together.

As you’ve likely learned from the contents of her blog, DaisyMae Maus is opinionated and bossy, but she truly does care about her housemates, the Feline Americans. She’s still my “Beautiful Baby Girl” and she still spends each night sleeping beside my pillow purring her deep, comforting purr.

I’m certain that I’ll know many more cats in my lifetime, but none will affect me as completely as DaisyMae Maus. She is like no other. She is my best friend.

Devotedly,
Jessica

Rosie – Frum A Lost Stray At Comp USA to an Easily Eggsited, Lovuble Furry Monstur

A Tale Of Devoshun From My Lady

Five years ago, sumone left me at a Comp USA entrance. A stuudant at my ladys college tuk me is. She was nice but didn’t reely know how to take care of me. That evening, my lady came by to visit the stuudent, she met me and asked whare my littur box was. The student didn’t know I needed one!! Thats my lady said she wuld take me in...I was relieved (both liturally and figuratively).

My lady renamed me Rosie...after hur grandma, my grate-grandma. The stuudent origunallie named me "Phil" because I was so many culurs she said I luked "Phil"-thy. Sad but true. I like Rosie SOOOO much bettur.

Now the tuff part. Yoo see my lady already had a kittie (Cheeto) and didn’t know we wuld get along. Cheeto was a BIG one-year-old and I was a super tiny two month old. When Cheeto and I met he got wide eyed, vary skinny and was posturing. Of corse I wasn’t vary gud at that so I just tried to luk cute but I was super scared!!! Soon enuff, cheeto took me under his wing and we became brother and sistur. He’s the boss of the apartment, but thares no doubt that I am the beeeutiful princess of the place!

My lady luvs me so much. Because I didn’t spend much time with my mom I am vary emoshunally high matenance and my lady is happily up fur the challenge. I talk a lot and she responds….usually it’s something along the lines of “What did you say, Timmy’s in a well and needs to be rescued?”…whatever that means?!?! I also like my booty petted and make a BIG deal out of everything which makes my lady laff a lot.

Link to my blog: Rosie Blog

Cheeto – Frum Ghetto Furry Street Monstur to a Refined Distingwished Luvabul Cat

A Tale Of Devoshun From My Lady

My lady was dating this guy in my nayburhood hur junyoor year of college. When she wuld come over to see him I wuld follow hur frum the car to his apartment…nevur can be to0 safe! We became gud friends and she often let me eat yummy cheetos (hence my name).

In decembur someone tried to take me into thare home and I culdnt get owt to roam my nayburhood. My lady was so worried because she culdn’t find me. Aftur a week, that purson let me owt to roam the streets again. When my lady saw me again, she was so happie I thawt I’d half to call a plummbur cause she was leeking frum hur eyes with joy!!! That day, she scooped me up in her blu mooveabul machine and we drove to hur on campus apartment.

She nevur had a cat and I wasn’t “allowed” in her “on-campus” apartment. The evil “on-campus” gustapo told my lady I had to go. She laffed and a week latur the two of us moved into owr own apartment away frum the “on-campus” gustapo with financhul help from owr grandma and grandpa.

Ovur the next cupple of weeks I feel in luv with my lady. She got rid of my cheese-balls (NOT CUL), took me to the V-E-T to get me a shot so I culd poop out the wurms that were eating my heart, and she played with me constantlie. We wure a match made in heavun!

Fur six years, I’ve been thare fur hur when she was leeking frum hur eyes cause she was sad, leeking frum hur eyes cause she was happie, and of corse I helped hur pass hur junyoor and senyor year bysitting on hur books to help hur study.

Link to my blog: Cheeto's Blog

Devoted to Conner Cloud

My Conner Cloud started out life much the same way as our dear friend Skeezix. He was the runt of his litter and was/is quite stinky.

Cloud came to our house a little over 4 years ago. My husband (the Man in Green) had a friend from work who was looking for a cheap place to live. Since our home has 5 bedrooms and it was just the two of us (plus Jesse and Dazey), he let his buddy move in. He moved in and brought Conner along. Conner was maybe 4-5 months at the time. Rob hadn't had him very long before they joined us. He was tiny. His head seemed wayyy to big for his little body. He smelled horribly. We joked that his mother must have been a skunk, he was that smelly!

Eventually, Rob decided to move out into an apartment so he had more room to do what he liked. He was just going to take Conner out in the country and dump him off. By this time, Cloudie had been declawed, so would be in no way able to defend himself, if this happened. Against my husband's wishes, I told him in no uncertain terms that Conner was staying here with us. I didn't care that Jesse didn't (and still doesn't) like him. I didn't care that he smelled. I just knew that I could not allow him to get dumped! This was really the only home he had ever known.

Conner is now 4, almost 5 years old. He's really come out of his shell the last few months. I'm not sure what brought about the change, maybe the new baby in the house. He seems to like my 4 month old son A LOT. He comes up to Ike to be petted and gives Ike nudges on the hand to get more attention. He was never that way before. It used to be that if Conner wanted attention, he would let you know. And then only on his terms: nothing on the belly, not the tail, and only sometimes on the head. He would rather knead you instead of getting loves.

Watching him interact with my baby reinforces my thinking that Conner was meant to stay here with us. He goes into my baby's room when I am getting him ready for bed and just watches us. He likes to sit near the crib and watch the baby. When we are playing on the floor, Conner is right there next to us, waiting for a turn to be petted or to nudge me or my son. He's enjoys being petted more so than when he was tiny.

I think once my son is a little older, he and Conner Cloud will be great friends!

PS--->We didn't name him. He came to us already named, after a character in a movie, Conner Mcleod. We just call him Cloud for short!

Visit Conner on Catster: www.catster.com/?397686

KISMET!

I wanted to write a serious story about Kismet, but I kept trying and it just sounded...forced. Don't get me wrong, I ADORE my big man cat. I am very obsessed with him. I miss him the second I leave for work in the morning and I get antsy on the train home waiting to see him. I talk about him so much that friends of mine who have never met him send him presents and follow his blog obsessively. Whenever I get tipsy at happy hours, my first wish is that Kismet had a cell phone so I could let him know how great he is. I'm sort of incapable of leaving him alone -- for example, he'll be zonked out on the cable box and I'll wake him up to kiss his paw pads and make sure he knows he's a big guy and that I love him. But I mean, he's Kismet. A loving, touching story about him would probably just embarrass him and make him roll his eyes (if he could). So instead, I wrote a rap. I think it's actually more of a poem, but I'm passing it off as a rap because I really think Kismet will like it better that way. In case the poem leaves you scratching your head, a more straightforward arrival story can be found on Kismet's catster page. :) Now, here is my big man cat rap!

I walked into PetSmart one fine day
Not knowing what would come my way
I was there to look, I was missing my cats
But knew I couldn't get a new one yet - rats!

There were cages full of nice kittens
With little white paws just like mittens
There were orange and black ones
Big and small,
But I felt no tug from them at all

I was about to leave with just a sigh
When a corner cage caught my eye
I bent down, reached out my hand
And that's when I first saw the big man

Leaning against the side of the bars
Big feets crossed, such long whiskers
He looked at me like, "Who might you be?
Do you see that I'm big? Do you kinda like me?
Isn't this dumb? I barely fit here!
But don't feel too sad, don't shed a tear
I'm mostly just mad, not really hurt
Because they're making me sit here without a shirt."

I wanted him then! I said "Give me him!"
But they said "No way, be a volunteer instead!"
So for a few months I cleaned out the litter
But I never saw Kismet, I got kind of bitter
And then, months later, I got this email
It said "Remember Kismet? He's got a long tail!
He's just really big! He was being fostered!
But he's better now and we want him adopted!"

I replied and said, "Uh, hello, I want him!"
And they said, "Okay, but first, some questions!
Do you have any thoughts about big man cats?"
I said, "I love them! I understand they're not fat!"
They said, "Very good, you pass the first test!
Now do you think cat shirts are really the best?"
I said, "I sensed Kismet had good fashion sense,
Even though he was naked, and somewhat incensed."
They said, "You sound perfect! Just one question more -
How do you feel about cat pee on your floor?"
I said, "Not the floor, it's hardwood, and new,
But if he peed on the couch, I'd say, good for you!"
They said, "Come get him! We'll break out champagne!"
So I took him to Brooklyn on the F train

It's been just a year but seems longer in span
As I can't picture my life without this big man

He sleeps on my TV,
He pees on my couch,
He likes to wear shirts that show off his man pouch

He eats too much food,
And then throws it back up,
And then eats it again with this face that's like "...What?"

When I sing in the shower,
He attempts harmony,
When I get into bed,
He tries to hump me

I've bought him more shirts
Than I own for myself
I've had to move my belongings
To a much higher shelf

But I love him so much, I don't notice all this.
What I notice instead, is his sandpaper kiss;
His super big feets and his big whisker humps,
How he makes me smile when I'm down in the dumps.

When my alarm doesn't work, he will wake me up,
Just a paw on my mouth and a face like, "get up!"
I spoon him at night and we have such deep chats,
He is my most favorite of all Brooklyn's cats

I miss him as soon as I close the door,
He brings me such joy, I couldn't ask for more
I love him so much and he is my best friend
And I have to stop writing
I MUST SMOOCH HIS HEAD!

Link to my blog: Kismet Man Cat

The Story of Us

OC found his way to our home in the middle of the woods in July, 2003. He was a little thing, a kitten still. We already had 3 cats so my husband wouldn't even entertain bringing another one into the fold. I couldn't let the little fella starve, so of course, I'd put food out for him which he happily ate. We noticed that he had a funny way of eating, but I chalked that up to him being out on his own with no momma to teach him the right way to do things. Our kids were visiting us then so the girls would go out and give him attention and he loved it. At night, he'd sleep in the flower bed next to our patio door and go do cat things during the day. My husband was dead set against giving him a name, because you know where that would lead. I decided we needed to call him something when referring to this cat that we weren't taking in but who didn't leave, so we agreed to call him OC, for "Outside Cat". So we went on, us "not owning" him but feeding him food we bought especially for him, and him not leaving. I put a blanket out in the flowerbed, assuring my husband that it didn't mean OC was ours....::looks up and whistles::.

Then in September I had to have major back surgery which caused me to be pretty incapacitated for a while. Two weeks after I returned from the hospital, one of my cats, Petey who I had since she was a baby and I was 19 (I was 35 at the time), went into hiding and I knew something was wrong. She had a mass and I had to let her go. I was so sad, wracked with guilt that the last couple weeks of her life, I couldn't bend over to pick her up or wasn't up and about enough to notice she wasn't herself. So, I was dealing with the grief, poorly then I'd see little OC out on the deck looking at me through the patio door, hopeful for just a little cuddle or a pet. I'd go sit out there with him for hours. Him loving on me, helping me through my sadness and comforting me as I cried.

Time passes and winter comes, poor little OC is determined that we're his. Husband is still determined that we're not (heartless isn't he?). Winter in Illinois is cold, and I was sick with worry over this little fella and to appease me, husband says we can make a little bed for OC in the garage, and he'll put a lamp over it to generate heat so OC can sleep in there at night.

Then I notice OC sneezing but it's not just a sneeze. It's clear to me that he's got some kind of cold. So I call hubby, and turn on the waterworks, this kitty is sick and needs help. So he lets me take this cat, who doesn't have a real name and isn't ours to the vet. The vet determines that this poor soul has feline stomatitis, which in short is an inflammation of the entire mouth caused by a compromised immune system. No wonder he ate so funny. If we take him to the shelter, as I had considered doing since hubby wouldn't let us take him in, he would likely be euthanized. If I decided to try and combat this disease, there's no guarantee it will work and it would require a committment to an intensive medicine schedule and costly multiple vet visits. The medicine alone would cost us a few hundred dollars per month for a while. This was all, to save a cat who may or may not even live for 2 years after all these measures. My heart was broken.

I call my husband in tears, holding little OC, and explain the situation. In my heart, I could not say goodbye to this little fella who saved me from my grief so soon after losing Petey. My husband said we could try to save him (maybe he DOES have a heart after all, huh?) but he couldn't live inside with us until we were sure he wouldn't spray. I got to bring OC inside to sit with me on the couch, as long as he stayed on my lap. Oh, the purrs and the loving. So, we had him neutered and he got to come inside to live with us.

It's been almost 3 years now, and OC is thriving. He is the most loving animal and I know it's because he's grateful. We had to have his teeth removed because the medicines alone didn't cut it but you'd never know it. He loves people food especially if Papa feeds it to him. I am forever grateful to Dr. Dena Nelson and her staff at All Cat Clinic in Springfield, IL. It was through a partnership between her and our family that we were able to have the great results we've had with OC. We had to move away to Myrtle Beach, SC this fall and I'm sad we had to leave Dr. Nelson and her staff behind.

OC enjoys days filled with sleeping in laps, riding on backs and hanging out (upside down).













I believe with all my heart that he was sent to me to save me from my sadness. Oh, and the heartless hubby...is wrapped firmly around OC's paw.





~Ammy aka tiggerprr, frend of OC

Visit me at: tiggerprr's scratching post

Why Zippy is "Princess Ziporah"

You can see part of my "missing toes" paws in this pic

No one knows how she really ended up where she was found. Some say the people moved out and left her there and some say she was born nearby and was left behind by her kitty mom while the people were on vacation. Doesn't matter, what matters is that she's mine now. I got a call from my friend, Alli, that there was a kitten under the neighbors porch and some boys were apparently poking at her with some sticks, if she got it would I take it. Yes, of course I'd take it. Alli went over and found out that the boys were actually trying to get the kitten out from under the porch. They had seen that she was hurt and took Alli to show her bloody paw prints from the sidewalk, across the porch and in the grass leading to where the poor thing was hiding. With a carrier and a can of tuna they got her to come out and immediately Alli brought her to me. It was apparent from the first that she had either been attacked and dragged by a car or some animal (I'm including the two legged animal in this) and had severe damage to her front paws. It was July 4th and there were no vet's available exept the emergency kind. I looked at my hubby and he said "let's go". When we got to the ER they triaged her, while I held her shivering body to me and tried to comfort her. She was missing toes and parts of toes on her front paws and they were infected. They suggested we put her out of her misery. She was feral and probably diseased (which would be why mom abandoned her). Hubby and I exchanged one look and he said "no, test her and if she's not diseased do what you can. That first visit was over $900.00 they cleaned the wounds and injected some antibiotics. She tested negative for everything exept worms and fleas, which were rapidly dispatched. She would need surgery on her paws to repair the damage. During all of this I had to hold her, she would screem if I set her down or anyone else tried to take her. On the drive home we discussed the fact that we had 1)not enough money to do all of this and 2)the other options were unthinkable. We'd come to far now to turn back, I sold my second car (the winter beater as it was called) to pay for her care. The next day we took her to see our regular vet who said that yes, they could save her paws but it would require a couple of surgeries and a lot of home care. We also found out that she was about 8 weeks old and not 4 weeks like we originally thought. After every surgery we had to carry her everywhere for the first few days, clean and redress her wounds and give her pills. As you can imagine this forms a bond, a strong emotional, physical and, yes, psychic bond. Within a month our baby was running around like a maniac. Our vet couldn't believe how well her paws healed and despite not having claws and missing a couple of pads she walked and ran normally. We had not named her until we were sure she would survive all the surgeries and then we needed to see her personality come out. Yup, runs like the wind, flies through the air, she's a Zippy one. She's a princess because that's her personality too, she's used to getting her own way. She dislikes to much atention. Probably because of all the attention she got when she was hurt. One day her daddy was calling to her and he started saying "Zip, zip hoorah" and it turned into Princess Ziporah.
www.catster.com/?375530

I love Boni Maroni

*sung* I've got a girl named Boni Maroni
She's as skinny as a stick of macaroni...
*whispered* But one day she'll be as fat and glossy as her sister Sanjee

A full-grown but very skinny black and white tuxedo cat showed up on the back deck one spring day, skinny as the famed stick of macaroni in the song for sure. My mother, now knowns as "Grandma Cat", saw her there, and took her some of our cat Sanjee's food because that poor kitty looked so skinny and pitiful. The skinny tuxie cat was in kitty heaven. But even from the kitty heaven of being given food, she took time to give my mother headbumpies and purr and purr. Grandma Cat was in love, and she brought me out to see the sweet little skinny kitty. I couldn't help but adore her too. Grandma Cat said she reminded her of the old song "Boni Maroni" and started singing it as we petted the sweet little girl.

From then on, the skinny little cat was called Boni Maroni. Day after day, Boni came to visit on the back, and we fed her. She was starting to get a little less skinny, and was always purring and asking for pets by putting one paw up on our leg and meowing. Never a scratch from her, she just patted a leg as if to say, "Can I please have a pet? Please?" Boni patiently patted and meowed her way into our hearts.

Little by little, we started doing more things for sweet Boni. We had no intention of adopting another cat, though. After all, Sanjee was Queen of the House, and she'd never said anything about wanting a sister. But we couldn't just let Boni wander off without looking after her some. We fed her in the mornings and the evenings. We rationalized it to ourselves by saying that we would be mean to let that sweet little cat starve. Her food would get wet when it rained, so we made her a funny little house with a porch out of an old cooler. We rationalized that by telling ourselves that it would be bad to waste good kitty food by letting it get wet and soggy. We spent time with her on the deck petting her and singing the Boni Maroni song. We rationalized that by telling ourselves that all creatures need love and after all, she'd turned up on our deck so it must be right to take care of her. Boni continued purring and being as sweet can can be, and the next thing we knew we'd gotten her food bowls of her own. Then a collar. We gave in and admitted that we'd adopted Boni, but we said she had to be an outside cat. And things continued a while longer like that.

It was getting hot here in Central Virginia by then, and it was just too warm to sit out on the deck with Boni as much as we wanted. So we started discussing the possibility of Boni becoming an inside cat, a sister for Sanjee. After all, Boni and Sanjee had visited through the sunroom door and seemed ok with each other. So we decided we would take Boni to our wonderful vet and see what he thought. Oh, and yes, we'd get her shots too, since even as an outside cat she needed her vaccinations.

Boni was not thrilled with being stuffed in the carrier, but even so, she was good. She meowed once or twice, but didn't make a big fuss. She settled down quickly and rode quietly to see Dr. Z. He said that we should rename her because around us she wouldn't be "boney" for long around us. We laughed and said it was too late, she was Boni Maroni already. Dr. Z declared Boni was healthy and FeLV/FIV-free, so home we took her and introduced her to Sanjee inside.

Boni wouldn't be moved by Sanjee's fussing and hissing from the start. Boni would just sit and watch Sanjee's shenanigans with her head tilted thoughtfully to one side. Sanjee gave up and stopped hissing. Boni liked snuggling from the first. She would snuggle into Grandma Cat's lap. She would snuggle into my lap. And when neither lap was available, she would invite herself and go snuggle with Sanjee in Sanjee's basket. It didn't take long for Sanjee to become as attached to Boni as we were.

Boni became very protective of her little sister Sanjee, and turned out to be a peacemaker. If Sanjee got in trouble, Boni would come running and get between us and Sanjee as if to say, "Leave my sister alone!" When Mini moved in too, and she and Sanjee would get into hissing and swatting fits, Boni would jump between them with all her fur puffed up and tell them to stop it. If anyone in the house cries out in pain or sorrow, Boni's always there to comfort them. Boni keeps track of all her loved ones, stopping in regularly to make sure everyone is ok. Little by little, Boni's peace has reigned.


Mom: Boni, you're such a sweet kitty.

Boni: Oh Mom, I'm just a regular cat. Don't make such a fuss.

Mom: But Boni, you're a peacemaker. You jump between Mini and Sanjee when they get into spats.

Boni: I can't let my sisters fight! I love them both!

Mom: And Boni, of all our cats, you're the one who comes to sit with me when I cry.

Boni: I don't want you to be unhappy, Mom.

Mom: And you snuggle with any of us, cat or human.

Boni: Yall are good to snuggle with, Mom.

Mom: And you never claw when you pat my leg to ask for pets.

Boni: I just want pets. I don't want to claw you.

Mom: See, you're a sweet kitty, Boni.

Boni: Oh Mom, don't make such a fuss.

Mom:

*sings* I've got a girl named Boni Maroni

She used to be as skinny as a stick of macaroni

*whispers* But now she's all fat and glossy.

Boni: I love you, Mom.

Mom: I love you, Boni.

Link to my blog: House of the (Mostly) Black Cats

Tale of Devotion for Andre & N'bikay

Dear Andre & N'bikay,

Mommy loves you both. I am so happy everyday that you guys are in mylife --even when you're being bad. When the two of you came to live with me and daddy I was so excited. We knew for a couple weeks that you were coming and everytime I walked past the bed that we bought for you--I imagined what it would be like when you guys were finally here and snuggling and sleeping in it. Well, I never really could have imagined because your presence in my life has meant so much to me and brought me so much joy. I love that the two of you still sleep in that bed together even though you barely fit--it is so cute. I am amazed everyday at all the cute stuff you guys do.

N'bikay--you were adorable that first night-- you were so scared that you peed on the bed and also fell asleep sitting up. I felt so bad and I tried to communicate to you that you were safe and that you could relax. Eventually of course you did relax and I am so glad that you trust me and daddy and you never run away from us--you even let me hold you when I know you don't want to be held (sorry). You have grown into quite the feline specimen and I am proud of you and admire all of your skills. You maybe a killer but you'll always be a kitten to me and even though you are a bad boy sometimes-- like when you chewed through the wire of my computer monitor -- I would never trade you for the world.

Andre--I knew from the start that you were my destiny--when I picked you up at your cat mommy's house and you crawled into my sweater it was a done deal--you crawled into my heart as well. You have grown into such a handsome and lovable boy. I love when you come up for snuggles at 5am even though I don't always act like it. You are such a sweet boy and I love that you let me hold you like a baby. You're also really funny like when you laid in the bathtub with the cleanser in it--a little scary for me but still funny because of the innocent look on your face.

The two of you are my children and I have hopes and fears just like any other parent. Sometimes when you guys look so peaceful when you're sleeping I put my hand on your bellies to make sure you're still breathing. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with how lucky I am to share my life with two wonderful creatures (ok three if you count daddy). You guys are my world and I can't imagine life without you.

Love,
Mommy


>> Andre's Catster Page

>> N'bikay's Catster Page

My Tail of Abby

Dear Abby

My husband and I had no pets, and then all of a sudden in August of 2004 three homeless cats arrived literally at our doorstep and we were suddenly 'new parents'. Not knowing much about cats I had quite an education in store for me. After some months had past I came to understand that the three cats that adopted us were not going to all of a sudden change into lap cats; something I longed for. After reality struck I began my search for this purrfect lap kitty. I had an ideal in mind, I wanted to have another tuxedo girl to be with my Baby Boo, who is our dainty little tuxedo girl kitty. I wanted this ideal kitty to be small, because Boo was, and to have a majestic tail, because alas Boo did not. Those were my four requirements; a small tuxedo girl kitty with a big fluffy tail. I began working with one of the rescue organizations in my local area. Every weekend I would go to PetsMart and visit all the kitties that they brought out for adoption. Each time I would go away without the 4 little paws that my heart longed to have and to hold. The ladies got to know me pretty well, and during our conversations they came to understand what I was looking for. They also told me to visit their website and see if there was a special cat listed that I wanted that was being fostered. BOOM there she was, her name was Gracie and from the small picture on Petsfinder she looked purrfect. I was so excited! So I emailed the rescue group and they agreed to bring Gracie in to PetsMart that following weekend. So my husband and I drive over to PetsMart to see what I hoped was our new baby. When we got there, Gracie was waiting. I felt so bad because Gracie really wasn't ready to show yet. She was so scared, it was her first time at PetsMart. But Gracie was twice the size of Boo. She just wasn't right. I felt so bad that I had subjected her to being put on display when she really wasn't ready . I felt really dejected too. Because I had been looking for months and months and I really wanted to adopt a homeless kitty and I kept wondering if I was being too focused on those four specific things. The following week, I got an email from Beth, the lady who worked with Lucky Cat Adoptions. She said I think I have found the perfect fit for you. The kitty was only 5 1/2 pounds and a tuxedo girl, but she was 1 month shy of her 6th birthday, did I mind adopting an older cat. Sixth, swixth, I didn't care one whit about her age. I had to wait nearly week until we could go to PetsMart to see her. I saw her almost immediately from across the room; Abby was sitting in her little kitty igloo at full alert. Do you believe in love at first sight, because literally it was for me? I thought I was actually looking at Boo the similiarites were so strong between the two of them. Before they even opened the cage Abby was in I knew she was going home with me. When they took her out and gave her to me she climbed right up to the top of my shoulder and hugged me. She stayed there the entire time we were in Petsmart. At that moment I thought she felt about me that way I felt about her. As we were doing all the paperwork, some of Abby's story emerged. She wasn't really a homeless kitty and never had been. But, her "family" wanted to give her up because she was too "affectionate". Beth also told me that the Father had taken her aside and told her if I didn't want Abby to just drop her off behind PetsMart, because he did not want her and but not to bring her back. When I heard that I knew he would never see my little baby again. There was more to that story, but it made me realize that Abby did not need to be in that home, and that the Father did not like her very much. So we took little Abby home. She made not a peep during the trip home, and because she was coming to a house with 3 cats we knew we had to introduce them slowly. Once we got home and tried to settle Abby in she became angry and enraged. Her true feelings were coming to the surface. She was angry about being rehomed, and who could blame her? I found out that we were her third home in her 5 short years. She hated me, she hated being in a new house, she hated not being with the family she knew in the home where she had lived the last three years of her life. I didn't know anything about Abby at that point, and didn't understand her reaction. But, I tried so hard to be friends and to let her know that I would love her and care for her. I remember sitting there on the bathroom floor near her with the tear flowing; what have I done now? She was not going to have anything to do with me, not that night. I was heartbroken, and began to wonder if I had done the right thing at all. I left Abby in the bathroom that night where she must have been so sad. We had set up a nice new bed, new toys, food and water and a litterbox. She must have wondered where am I, and why am I here, and where is my little girl? Yes, that Father had made his 10 year old daughter give up her only cat. I checked on Abby periodically but she did not want me to come near her. My work really began the next day and it continued for many many many months. Slowly Abby began to trust me. She would let me hold her for longer and longer periods of time as the weeks went by. It took more than 2 weeks to get her to come out of the bathroom and into the adjacent bedroom. It took 8 weeks before we could introduce her to the other cats. She actually hated them worse than she hated me in the beginning. It took another month before she would come out of the bedroom on her own, and it was nearly 6 months before I could comfortably leave them all together unsupervised. It is still a work in progress for her and the other cats and she has been with us for nearly 18 months. Abby is now totally devoted to me. She is extremely loyal and loving. She is that virtual lap cat I so longed for. She is small, and petitie, sassy and high spirited. To top it all off she has NO tail. In my eyes and in my heart she is absolutely purrfect. I would not change one thing that has happened along the way, nor would I change a thing about her. I am grateful that the family before me chose to relinquish her, and that she came to me. I was the right fit for her. I sometimes wonder do cats remember, and behavorialist seem to lean towards cats being only in the now. Well, I for one think she does remember, and I believe if she could chose her home,that she would never leave me. I know she is happy and she is well cared for and totally loved and she gives that back to me 1000 times over.

Link to my blog: ManxMnews

Tail of Devotion for Fat Eric

Every morning, about ten minutes before the alarms go off, I am woken by the sound of a loud “mew” out on the landing. Then there is the thudding of heavy feet entering the bedroom, a scrabbling sound, and the bed shakes with a thump as Fat Eric lands on it. If I am lying on my back, he walks straight up my body, settles on my chest (compressing my lungs with his substantial weight!) and begins to purr deafeningly. If I’m lying on my side, he wedges himself into the space between me and my husband and begins to purr ditto. I pet him for a few minutes and get my hand licked. As soon as the alarm clocks go off, he heaves himself up and spreads himself across my husband’s pillow, and then starts licking John’s hair ruthlessly. Eric likes to lick all human hair, but for some reason John’s hair is the most delicious hair in the world, we are not sure why! The hair-licking continues until one of us gets up and goes to dish up Eric’s breakfast.

On days when John and I are both at work, Fat Eric likes to spend his days mainly sleeping, snacking on any breakfast leftovers, playing with his Giant Scratchy Mouse and watching the birds, foxes and Evil Intruder Cats in the back garden through the patio windows. At the sound of my key in the door when I get home, he stations himself inside the door and greets me with loud miaows and attempting to climb up my legs until I pick him up, when he licks my hair in greeting and leaves smudgy nose-prints on my glasses. Then he rushes to the food bowls, as the serving of dinner is a high priority. When I’ve fed him, changed and made myself a cup of tea, I get miaowed at again until I sit down. As soon as I do, he climbs up and spreads his 21 lb floofy body over my legs and I am pinned down for at least twenty minutes, while he purrs, drools happily on my shirt, and eventually snores. When John gets home, though, Fat Eric needs to lick his delicious hair again in greeting, and then spends most of the rest of the evening upside down on the carpet with his paws in the air, snoring loudly enough to drown out the television. What a life.

Three years ago I dragged a reluctant John to our local cat sanctuary. I’d grown up surrounded by animals but John had never had a pet and wasn’t comfortable around animals. Finally he agreed to a cat – or two – provided they were “laid-back cats and not hyperactive kittens.” When we mentioned this request to the staff at the sanctuary, we were led straight to a shelf where two large balls of orange fluff were snoring – it was Fat Eric and his sister, Hattie, both aged 8. A week later, they strolled into our house as though they had always owned it, and set about turning John into a cat-lover.

Although they were both cuddly, purry cats, Eric was the primary cuddler of the pair – the one who always wanted to be on a lap, licking someone, getting petted or drooling on someone. He was also the comedian, getting lots of laughs for his favourite “flat on back, paws sticking out at ridiculous angles” sleeping positions. Sadly, five months after we got the cats, Hattie died of cancer, and I worried that Eric would be lonely. They hadn’t been inseparable but he’d spent a lot of time licking her. It quickly became clear, however, that Fat Eric was planning to make the most of being a Spoilt Only Cat.

I have never known such an easy-going cat. He loves being groomed, and will continue purring even if I am pulling out tangles with the comb. When visiting the vet, he lies on the vet’s table purring, completely unstressed. The only times he isn’t laid-back is when he is resisting being put in the Evil Cat Carrier, chasing Evil Intruder Kitties out of his garden, and if there is a dog around.

As for my animal-hating husband, when I watch him letting Eric lick his hair and sneakily feeding Eric cat treats, I think Fat Eric did a good job turning him into a cat-lover! We love Eric – he is our big, floofy, purry, cuddly boy!

Kate

My little bundle of happiness and love

I am Eclair's mom, Deb. To start, this past year has been a very difficult one for me. Without going into detail it involves the demise of my marriage to someone I considered my soulmate and bestfriend. We were quite blissful together and we both swore we would be together forever...but sometimes forever doesn't last. So in my grieving many of my friends helped me in various ways. A woman I work with suggested getting a pet, a dog or cat, so I wouldn't feel so alone.
Since I live in an apartment with no fenced yard I dismissed the dog idea because I know how much time having a dog can take, especially daily walks, etc. I also didn't think I'd want a cat because, having had cats before, I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with kitty litter and hairballs again (a former cat threw up a hairball into one of my shoes and guess how I found it? LOL).


Then one day I was web surfing and reading news. I came across an article about a cat here in CT that had a legal injunction placed on it because its neighbors accused him of attacking them. In this article there were comments of support by various people and one of the links was to Skeezix's weblog. Being adventurous I clicked and was so entertained by Skeezix's writing! I then followed another link to Petfinder.com and casually began looking at cats up for adoption here in CT. When I came upon Eclair's picture and her description I felt something tug at my heart. I thought about it a couple days and then sent the shelter (Amanda Connection in Newtown, CT) an email inquiring about adopting Eclair. After some missed connections the lady who runs the shelter brought Eclair to meet me and I simple fell instantly in love with this sweet little black kitty. She purred in my arms and rubbed against me. She wasn't timid or skittish at all, she curiously explored my home. I knew I wanted her never to leave so I signed all the papers and she was mine.

I have never regretted for one second the decision to adopt Eclair. She has brought me happiness during a time of great pain. She gives me unconditional love and its helped me so much just knowing that when I come home from work she is waiting for me. She is very devoted to me as I am to her, she wants to be near me all the time. She sleeps in my lap when I am at the computer or watching TV. She happily eats anything I give her (she was a little skinny when I got her but she is sleek and filled out now). She follows me around the house, and its as if she has radar when I go into the bathroom, she appears out of nowhere, jumps up on the edge of the bathtub and meows for pets. She headbutts my hand for more.
She is playful and funny and very vocal. I don't mind it at all even when we roughhouse a bit and she grabs my arm and gently bites me, its never with visciousness, she has never done anything "mean", not ever hissed or spit. She likes to pat my face with her paw too.



I love the fact that when I go to bed at night she climbs up and puts her face close to mine, gives me a sweet little kiss while purring quite loudly and then flops down, sometimes right on my head/face, and puts her little soft paws in my hand. She curls up and drifts off to sleep next to me and never leaves all night long. In the morning she can be quite insistant about getting up and getting her breakfast but its a routine that brings me much happiness. I know she loves me, I don't feel she simply tolerates me because I feed her. Its nice to be able to bring her home new toys and treats. She is very very special to me.

I couldn't imagine my life without her happy presence now and I know she will never leave me. Its a promise we will both keep.
And all because of Eclair I now have a lot of other wonderful kitty friends and the humans that love them too. I owe it all to Skeezix, the nicest cat in the world...second only to my sweet Eclair!!

Deb, Eclair's devoted mom

Make an online slideshow at onetruemedia.com

Jake and Bathsheba

I love my babies, my two furry kids, my dear Jake and Bathsheba. I cannot imagine life without them because Mark Twain was right when he said that a house is not a home without cats. They are SO difference, yet both so special to me. Jake is easygoing and easy to love, while Bathsheba is feisty and high strung.

Jake is soft and silky and oh, so cuddly. He has a wonderful purr motor and doesn’t hesitate to turn it on. He doesn’t mind being picked up and cuddled, but beware. If he is stroked when he is in my bare arms, he forgets that they are naked flesh when he “makes biscuits” on my arms – oww. He just gets a little over-exuberant.


I fostered Jake’s mother for a week or two—before we even knew she was pregnant with Jake and his three siblings—and I decided that I would take one of the kittens to add to my two-girl-kitty home. Jake got along great with my senior kitty Precious, but Bathsheba never accepted the little interloper.

I lived alone with my kitty kids until Jake was five months old. Jake’s dad-to-be was NOT a cat person, and professed to have cat allergies. Well, he would just have to live with them if he wanted to live with me. But little Jake stole his heart. Jake’s athleticism was awe-inspiring as he would leap off the stairs for his string toys. His lovely expressive pale green eyes can melt the hardest heart. Jake worked on his dad-to-be and showed him much devotion and love. His dad thinks that he and his “little man” have a symbiotic relationship. I’m a little jealous of the love that Jake has for his dad, but he does love me and is asleep at my feet as a write this. I do think that Jake is very clever. He knew that his mission was to win over his dad and make him love cats to complete our little family. Mission accomplished!

Bathsheba nearly broke my heart TWICE when she ran away from home two different summers. She was gone for a couple of weeks both times. I was beside myself with worry. I checked with the animal control people, put up signs in the neighborhood, and searched as best I could. My worst fear was that I might find her in a gutter somewhere, but she rarely went into the street. Bathsheba much preferred the little woods out back, thank goodness. I never really lost faith in knowing that she would return, and one day I walked to the bottom of the yard, softly called her name (mostly in my mind), then I heard faint baby-voiced mewing. She was calling out to me as she was coming out of the woods. We were and continue to be connected. She was home! Oh, rejoice! She looked a little thin, but she always lost weight in the summertime. She never told me where she went, and she did it to me again the next year. I guess she either needed some space and took a sabbatical by choice, or she somehow got locked in someone’s shed or something. We have a special bond, but she does need her space. She doesn’t like to be picked up and cuddled, but tolerates it occasionally because it means a lot to me. She is very temperamental and sensitive and insists that our relationship be on her terms, but our love for each other is undeniable. When Bathsheba greets me at the front door when I arrive home from work, I know that all is okay with our world after all. I feel very privileged and honored that she loves me.

My two kids complement each other and make my life complete. I love them dearly.

~J&B's Mom

Link to my blog: http://jakeandbathsheba.blogspot.com

My Sister's Gift To Me: Upsie

Link to my blog: What Did You Eat?


Seven years ago, my sister Antonia came to live with me. She was recovering from a terrible car accident that she was lucky to survive. She also had to contend with her worsening bipolar disorder and alcoholism. After some time, she felt ready to have her own place to live and wound up renting an apartment in a town near me. One day, she noticed a very frightened cat hiding in the bushes near her patio door. It was terrified when she tried to talk to it, so she put out food, and over a period of days managed to lure the cat inside. At first Antonia thought the cat lived upstairs, hence the name Upsie. But, she soon found out that Upsie was homeless. We also learned that Upsie was sick, with many different ailments, including mastitis, an infection of the milk ducts in her breasts. She had given birth and her kittens died. Over time, Antonia and Upsie formed a very close bond. Upsie was the only living creature that provided my sister true comfort and unconditional acceptance. Both Antonia and Upsie had experienced some very bad moments in their life and were leery of other people. Upsie couldn't tolerate any other human, including me. Then, a very bad thing happened. My sister died, from an overdose of her medication. She left a note asking that Upsie be given the best of care, which I have tried to do.

I would love Upsie, no matter what her history. But, each time I'm with her, I feel the presence of Antonia. I look into those big kitty eyes and I know that she remembers my sister, just as I do. I thank God that Upsie gave my sister love and comfort during the dark days, as her emotional health was deteriorating. Upsie was always understanding and never became irritated or worn out by my sister's behavior. Upsie and I are now very close and she gives me the same love that she bestowed on Antonia. Her presence helped me so many times during my moments of grief after my sister's death--moments I still experience. She is my gift, but I realize that she is only on loan to me. Someday, she and Antonia will be back together again.

The Cutest Cat in the World!

Catster Page for Atlas: Atlas

I came home from a business trip to find that my roommate had adopted a kitten from the pound. Apparently this kitten caught his eye because he was running around his cage and doing somersaults and flips. I had a loft bed in my room which was too high for little Atlas to get into so for the first couple months I took to sleeping on the floor so that he wouldn't be lonely at night (or maybe it was so I wouldn't be lonely!) We made a forever bond those first few nights together, one that has lasted 11 years so far!

Atlas is such a love bug and the friendliest cat around. Atlas follows me around and insists on sitting in my lap whenever possible. He also sleeps at the head of the bed on his very own pillow, too cute! He has quite the personality and is fond of conversation. I enjoy our little 'chats' but I imagine he's just telling me to be quiet and to pet or feed him!

Although Atlas is the King of Kings and I cater to all of his whims his life hasn't been all roses. At one time he fell out of a window, 3 stories to the ground below and broke his leg. He had to wear a splint for 8 weeks but manged to hobble around quite well. For the last two years he's had a skin condition that makes him scratch open ugly sores. He's been on more meds and shots than I can count and is on a special diet as well. (he sure misses Fancy Feast!) He still is a trooper and manages to get the purring motor revved up even after I give him his medication.

Atlas truly is a joy and my best friend. I love him so very much and tell him so each and every day!

My Magical Merlin

Link to my blog: Merlin's Meows

Two weeks ago, I sat in my office, looking at my boss. He was telling me that I would no longer have a job there. One of the first thoughts I had (and this is the truth) was that I would get to stay home with Merlin. And when I got home, he lay on the floor at my feet with his paw resting on my foot. We have had lots of fun during my time at home. We have spent lots of time together and I really would rather stay home with him than find a new job. I only wish that was an option!

The Gotcha Story:
My twelve-year-old kitty Reba crossed the Rainbow Bridge in 2005, and I was heartbroken. Then one day I was at the gym and the girl working behind the desk was holding a very cute, super tiny kitten. She said she was one of four kittens found in the street. She was keeping that kitten and had taken the others to her vet. All but one had already been adopted. He had been the oldest of the four kitties (he was 8 weeks old, the others were 5 or 6 weeks). They had not been littermates, nobody knows how they ended up together, but apparently this oldest one had been taking care of the others and he was very protective. That very day we went to the vet and they had the one kitten in his own cage, next to a cage with two small cute fluffy kittens. The two were very playful and cute and sweet, but the loner was just lying in the middle of his cage, being very still. So here was this little guy, 8 weeks old, sitting in the cage, just checking me out. He didn't move at all when I approached him. I opened the cage and took him out, and he immediately started purring and nuzzling against me. He was not scared at all! I knew he had to come with me. He had paws, ears, and a tail that gave away the fact that he would grow to be a big hefty kitty, though he only weighed 1.5 pounds that day. After coming to live with us, he gained an average of a pound a week for a while. He now weighs 15 pounds. His daddy gave him the name Merlin because of the "M" on his forehead and because he is magical! Purple is his favorite color, because purple is the color magicians and wizards....

Things I love about Merlin:
Merlin waits for me every morning outside the bedroom door. Merlin never minds when I pick him up to hold him, and no matter what he was doing, he’ll stay and usually have a little nap on my chest. He purrs really loud and it rattles my chest. He rubs against my ankles whenever I’m brushing my teeth or doing something in the kitchen. He plays so happily with his Fishie and his other toys. He talks to the birdies outside his window, making that little cackling noise. He comes when I call him. He loves his woofie brother and sister. He doesn’t talk a lot, only when he has something important to say. I especially love the way he follows me around from room to room, and when I talk to him, he looks at me, and will even give a little "mew" in response, just to let me know he's listening...

He’s just a good cat and a good friend, and I am a lucky bean indeed.

mi mom'z tale uv devoshun fer me ... jh

http://www.blogger.com/profile/32934460 "frum jeter harris"


Jeet... When your dad brought you home I said "No more cats!" That lasted about a second. You were so tiny... and so very cute. You spent that first week in the bathroom, hiding from the BIG cats in the house. Slowly you came out to investigate. Your first four-legged friend was Dilly, the guinea pig, who was just about your size. As you grew bigger you found out that Mickey was fun to play with ... but you should stay away from Kallie and Whitey (where is Whitey?)
Your best two-legged friend is me. Everyone loves you, but you know the hand that feeds you ... and the one who listens to you ... and the one who thinks you're hilarious ... and the ONLY one who follows your escapades on Catster!
I can't believe I ever considered not having you in our family. I am totally devoted to you Jeter Harris.

to mi mom--yup...yer mi bes frend. u taught me to be funnee ... u introdooced me to da best frendz i hav on da catster an da blogger ... u giv me da "pounce" an da udder treets ... i alwayz know ware to go if i need sum extra lovin. i am veree devoted to u ... an i alwayz will be.

life iz good!

ps--wutz "escapades"?

My precious Pippin

Pippin's Catster Page



It was a little orange-and-white baby, far too small for its age. Neglected and alone, he was just property to the man holding the box he was in. The only reason he was even at the veterinarian’s was because of guilt-because it was the man’s fault the kitten was hurt. I felt the loneliness emanating from the box he was in. But the moment Pippin and I locked eyes, I knew he was my soul mate.
It was later that day, and we had given the man an estimate to see what was wrong with Pippin. He said that was fine, but he had to go get some more money. In the meantime, we took some x-rays and gave Pippin a pain injection. Pippin had a fractured pelvis and a dislocated hip. He couldn’t walk at all.
The man still wasn’t back some hours later. Or the next day. I waited patiently, knowing it was destined that Pippin come home with me. Telling everyone that worked there that he was NOT to go to the shelter or to anyone else, because he was coming home with me. Period. In the meantime, I continually put him on the ground and held him up while he tried so hard to walk, to move his back end.
A few days later, he was taking a few wobbly steps! I was so proud. At the end of the tenth day, he was walking almost normally, and after a test confirmed that he was leukemia-free, I left the clinic that day…with Pippin in my arms.
Over the last two years, Pippin has been my friend, my ‘handsome boy.’ He’s seen me through the loss of Pudding, Pippin’s great friend and the cat that loved and lived with me when Pippin came home. He has comforted me when my family has been sick and in the hospital, and when I decided that I’d had the last straw at my veterinary clinic job.
Pippin is both a Mommy’s boy and a Grandma’s boy. He loves to eat (anything!) and hates to exercise almost as much (though he does love fake mice). A huge contrast from his tiny body when I first met him, Pippin is a grand 15-or-so pounds now! He is the king of the house (though he does share the reins with his brother, Turtle) and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
I know Pippin loves me unconditionally, whether it’s because I took him away from the horrible life he had before, or just because I’m me. Whatever his reason is, I love him tenfold because he’s Pippin.

For Dazey and Jesse

A Tale of Devotion
To Dazey & Jesse

I never knew how much an animal (or animals!) could come to mean to a person. Growing up, we didn't have cats or dogs. We had a hamster for a couple years, but you certainly can't cuddle a hamster. I got my girls, Dazey and Jesse 5 1/2 years ago. From the beginning, they brought me such joy and put a lot of fun into my life, from falling into the bathtub while I was taking a bath to watching my poor hamster bounce down the stairs in his exercise ball. Fast forward 7 months. I had broken up with my fiancee and was living on my own for the first time in my life. The comfort, companionship and friendship they brought me was immeasurableable. They helped to keep me balanced.

5 years later, I am married and a new mommy. 7 months ago, my husband's National Guard unit was called to serve for Operation Iraqi Freedom. I was 6 months pregnant at the time. After he (the man in Green) left 14 April, I wasn't alone. I had 3 kitties (Conner's story to come) here to keep me strong and give me something to keep me occupied those long weeks where all I did was work and look forward to hearing from my husband and the birth of our son. Dazey and Jesse were my companions-I talked to them like always and it seemed that they really understood and felt the changes that were going on in our lives. I think I cuddled my kitties more in the 3 months before the birth of my son than I had in quite some time. I really depended on them to keep me sane!

4 months after the birth of my son, they are still my constant companions. As we face the next year without my husband, they sleep with me at night, cuddle with me while I try to cuddle my son and always remind me that they need food by either knocking their food dish over or pushing the cat food container onto the floor at 4 AM. They are walking this long journey with me.

My life wouldn't be the same without my girls!

Dazey's Catster page: www.catster.com/?397658
Jesse's Catster page: www.catster.com/?397660
(We have a blog but mom can't figure out how to insert the link)

Lilly

LILLY I LOVE YOU

Lilly you are my pretty girl
I needed you as much as you needed me
I knew the frist time I saw you
You where ment to be with me
You filled a hole in my heart.
You taught me so much.

Even though you never been a cuddly cat
You have always been a true friend.
You show your love in cautious ways
By never getting too close
But yet never staying too far away.

Your green golden eyes are as big as your sole
You let me know how to love you.
You become cat I loved getting to know.

Lilly your more than just a Cat
Your my gift from heaven
I am proud to call you more than just a feline
I do poudly call you my fovever fur friend.

I love you Lilly Lu!!

Writen for Lilly Lu her By mamma Laura

Mu shue Pooh I love you

We come come along.way

since I promiced to take care of you

I never would have guess

You become my best freind.


You know when I am sad

You licked away tears

You cuddled me when I am sick.

You provied hours of laughter

You given me thounsands of smile


You sleep by my head

You warmed my feet.

Your purr has become music to my ears.

You given me millons of sandpapper kisses

Your cry has made me cry.

You alway great me by the door when i get home

You are the frist thing i see when i get up

You are the last thing I see when I go to sleep


You given me so much

Your my more than fur and wiskers

Your my speical boy

Your my king of the house

Your more than just my cat

Your my best freind

I Love you Mu shue Pooh



I love you Mu shue Pooh

Tail of Devotion for Boogers

My Boogie, where do I begin...Even though your dad keeps reminding me that we "over looked" you when you reached out of your crate at "Fancy Cats" and gave me a startle, I'm thankful that you are apart of our family. I can't imagine life with out you!!! When we brought you home, within the first week you got really ill. After seeing 3 vets, NO one could figure out what was wrong or what medicine to treat your sneezing/sinus/booger problem. No one could. It was heart breaking =( But no matter the $ amount to nurse you well, we did what needed to be done. I know you feel bad because I could have had 3 Louis Vuitton bags if I were to add up your medical bills, but I'd do it over again if I had to, you are the BEST cat ever and I am SO THANKFUL that you're in our lives!!!

Here are the top 10 things that I love about you:

1) I love how when I wake up, walk into a room or return from work you greet me with open paws and start up a conversation to see how I'm doing.

2) I love how you chase your sister Snooper when she does her "Crazy Dog" routine. How cute is THAT!

3) I love how you're spunky and when are bored, you'll attack your brother Hondo. Like you said, you want to live a long life so you need to keep your endurance and energy up!

4) Even though it took me a year to convince you that a collar and I.D. tag is a "must", it was worth it, and you're a champ for giving in.

5) You turned me into a cat fan! Sure, I loved Hondo, who was my first cat, but after we adopted you, I can't believe I once "disliked" cats! I love you guys!!!

6) I love how you'll sleep between me and your dad at night, even though you take up my pillow.

7) I still laugh at how you tried to eat Snooper's dog food when you ran out of your beloved Meow Mix! (Sorry!!)

8) You are the coolest cat. How many cats can say they chase their tail and give people hugs and "High 5" daily?

9) Did I mention you're cute as a button?

10) No matter what, you will always be my Boogies, and I love you to bits!

Love Mom and Dad xoxoxo

~! Libby Marie Riley's Tail of Devotion !~

Without Libby Marie Riley, the ten year old calico who rules my life, I wouldn’t be able to survive. How you might ask? Read on to find out. Libby was found on a slow street by the local “Lake Alma.” My father picked her up for my sister Jamie, because her kitten Garcia had just passed away. We had no idea of the lasting impression Libby would leave on all of our lives forever. For about five years Libby wasn’t just Jamie’s cat, she was all of our cat. We moved to a bigger house, and Libby was in paradise. At night she played the piano while we tried to sleep, and was known to devour a treat in a fast second. She even got lost in the house once and was found a week later on the porch by me. We think she may have gotten into the vents, but she’s not talking. Then, we moved to a new house, a little smaller but more comfortable. It took a while, but soon Libby got adjusted to the move. A few years later, Jamie moved out. Ashley soon adopted Libby, and we all three slept together in the bed every night. When ever we had visitors they would see Ashley holding Libby wrapped in a blanket. They would ask, “Who’s baby is that?” and Libby’s Meme would quickly respond, “It’s the cat.” They would laugh, but they we all knew that that meant she was our baby. One day Libby went to her room she shared with Ashley as usual and all her stuff was gone. Ashley had moved it all into the spare bedroom, deciding she didn’t want Libby anymore. Within an hour, every thing was moved into my room, and a permanent home was made for my baby. That is the story of how I got my precious, but it doesn’t end there. Every morning, Libby is my wake up call. She walks on my stomach and face until I wake up, and if that doesn’t work she has been known to slap me in the face or scratch my covers off. She brings joy to my life and reminds me daily to take time for little things, like getting a treat or chasing a feather wand. Recently, Libby had a little run in with the flu. I thought she was going to die and immediately became depressed. I cryed myself to sleep many nights until I realized, my precious angel wasn’t going anywhere. Libby is my baby, my girl, my angel, my reason for living. I don’t know who I’d be or what I’d do with out her. I could write all day about my love for her, but I have to go now. Libby is rolling in her basket on the computer desk begging to be petted.
My Angel

By: Abby Riley

Sometimes i question God,

Why me God? Why This?

Will you send an angel to watch over me?

Am i even on the waiting list?

He answers me every day:

Abby your angel has come

Watch for her shining as bright as the morning sun

She is your guide and your way

I look around and wonder where?

An angel God has sent to me?

But then a quick dash and i can see!

My Angel's name is Libby

Smudge’s Two Paws

GRAND PRIZE WINNER!!!!!!!!!

It is said that when you have a multi-pet household you need to be extra careful not to show favoritism to one animal over another. Just like humans, cats and dogs can suffer from feelings of jealousy and abandonment. With that said, I love all of my cats equally in their own special way. But my cats, free of human feelings of equality and justice, have no such limitations on who they love more. My oldest cat, Magoo, definitely loves my wife more than he loves me. Bella is pretty much equally indifferent to both of us, although she does enjoy her morning makeup sessions with my wife. Dolce leans more towards me, but in her own fiercely independent way. The last member of our household, Smudge, loves my wife and his grandma, but there is no mistaking who he holds in highest regard. Smudge is my cat and I want to tell you about Smudge’s two paws.

Although he has four paws, Smudge’s two front paws speak for him. His left paw says “I really do” and his right paw says “I love you.” It has taken me more than eight years to figure this out, and it required nearly losing him to kidney failure to finally grasp what he was trying to say.

Smudge first tried to tell me this as a kitten when he would fall asleep on my chest as we lay on the couch and watched the television on lazy Sunday afternoons. He would curl up in a warm comfortable ball for several minutes and then suddenly stretch out his paws. First the right paw, “I love you.”; then the left paw, “I really do.” Without understanding what he was saying, I responded instinctively with a loving massage on the back of his neck. To him, this was cat for “I do/am too.” Smudge and I have repeated this conversation more than three hundred times without realizing it.

As he grew up, Smudge has tried to teach me his two paw communication in other ways. At night, once everyone is settled in bed and the television is off and then only sound is the other cats and my wife snoring, Smudge will stretch out beside me. Shortly thereafter I will feel a little cat paw on my face. It is usually his right paw that pulls the blankets from around my face and then softly lands on my cheek. When the world is silent and dark, Smudge quietly says, “I love you.” Regularly he even adds, “I really do.”

Sometimes Smudge does not wait until everything is quiet to say those beloved three words to me. He has interrupted my reading of a book by rubbing his cheek forcefully against my hand. I think that means “I want you to talk to me.” If I ignore him, he uses his left paw to pull the book away. “I really do.” He says.

There are times when Smudge just needs to tell me how much he cares. He will hop up onto my lap and start kneading, first his right paw, then his left paw. I love you; I really do. He must think that I am a little slow, for he will continue to tell me that over and over again. I always give him the human equivalent and tell him that I love him too, but I don’t think he cares until I massage the back of his neck. Then and only then does he accept that “I do too.”

It was during one of our “I love you”, “I really do”, “I do too” sessions that I noticed how skinny he had become. Where there once was strong muscular shoulders, I now felt the bony ridges of his shoulder blades and spine. Luckily, his annual vet appointment was coming up quickly on the calendar. We would find out why he was losing weight and we would get him fixed up good as new. But Smudge was fated to never be good as new; he was diagnosed with chronic kidney failure. It was a condition we can only manage, never cure or fix.

We left him at the vet for treatment, but made a point of visiting him the next day. He looked terrified and small with the IV hanging from his left arm. His eyes said to me “I’m scared.” I lovingly massaged the back of his neck and told him “I am too.” As he lay in his cage and I tried to reassure him that everything was going to be alright, Smudge placed his right paw on top of my left hand. “I love you.” Once again I told him, “I do too.”

It was then that I realized what he had been trying to tell me all those years. After all those Sunday afternoons; after all those middle of the night reminders; after all that kneading on my lap; I finally understood. It took seeing him in cage at a vet’s office with an IV stuck in his arm and feeling his soft paw being placed on top of my hand to open my eyes to what he had been saying. When he was at the scariest moment of his life and he was all alone, he made the effort to tell me “I love you.”

When faced with his kind, gentle spirit; I know that I am not as noble of a creature as he is, but he doesn’t seem to care. Each night since he has been home, Smudge has said goodnight with his two paws. “I love you.” “I really do.” Somehow my response “I do too”, which appears to mean the world to him, does not match or even come close to depth of emotion Smudge shares.


C.D. Smith http://fourfurrycats.blogspot.com

To My Darling Kaze

What would my life be without the spark of you? You are my little firecracker, my shinning little star, and my little pile of purr.

Princess, I have to say I never planned on you. I wanted a beautiful exotic Bengal to be our third cat, a number I never thought I would get the Tall Man to agree to. Suddenly your breeder sent me a PM giving me some sage advice. Being an Oriental breeder with lots of experience with Siamese I trusted every word she said. I thought for a moment and then quickly asked her about her kittens.

I had always though you frootbats were very odd looking, not something I ever understood. As I watched your relatives find their forever homes with other SICC board members I began to secretly like them. Gremlins eh…they’re pretty cute and have TONS of personality! Those big ears, the pointy faces, the skinny little bodies…. suddenly I had to have one!

Your breeder told me to check out her web page as she had 2 kittens who were supposed to go together but due to some tragic circumstances; they were unable to go to their planned home. I checked the page, looked at your mother in her silly photos and saw you next to the flowers. “What a gorgeous little frootbat!” I exclaimed. I had to know more about you and I knew I had to have you.

I waited a few days not to seem over zealous but I was screaming inside “Frootbat!!! Frootbat!!! Gremlin Frootbat!!!!!” I waited all weekend for some more pictures of you and painstakingly opened them on my Blackberry while standing in Circuit City. “She’s mine” I thought to myself and told the Tall Man I needed you.

On your 6-month birthday we drove down to Washington, D.C. We met your family and your lovely brother. We wanted to take you both home but we knew we couldn’t have 4 kitties. You screamed the whole way home. The entire traffic filled 6 hours. I think even I was a little tired of the meowing.

You HATED me when you first were allowed out into your isolation room. You wanted nothing to do with me, and certainly not to be touched. I cried so hard that you didn’t love me. I didn’t understand why you had such disdain for me. Finally one day the Tall Man put you in my lap and you purred. From then on we were bonded. I am your person and I know how jealous you get if I pay attention to another cat or even the Tall Man.

You went to your vet check and we found out you had Giardia. No surprise, you were leaking poo from your behind all over the carpet and it STUNK. Later we found out you have feline herpes and I have done all I can to keep the virus from bothering you. Yet every time you cough my heart breaks for you as I know it is painful for you.

I know what every one of your little meow’s means. I know that often you are just telling me you love me when you meow at me and then purr across the room. You sleep in my arms every night like a teddy bear. You are always in the mood to purr and certainly always up for a quick hug. I start every morning with a hug from you and end every night with you in my arms.

I never knew I could be so adored by an animal. Your unconditional intense love has taught me that there is such a thing as pure love that defies all boundaries. You wilt when I’m away and punish me for hours when I get home. You are Latte’s best play friend and his favorite pillow. I have never seen you unhappy even when you’ve felt sick. Even at the vet you purr so loud that everyone laughs. You’re my gorgeous elegant loving clown. You’re my girl Kaze and I’m amazed every time I look into your eyes and see only never ending love and adoration. I’m completely devoted to you!

My Devotion to Latte

Blue Daffodil

A sweet little bud of a flower
Poked its head above the frosty ground
One sunny crisp winter morning.

A golden bud wrapped in a
Protective embrace of fresh leaves
And a sturdy stem.

Stay close to the ground little flower.
Keep nestled in the toasty
leaves of last fall,
Let the Spring come to you.

Wait little flower!
Do not unfurl your petals
Into the biting cold and frosty air,
It is not yet time for your glory!

You must wait a while yet,
Let the crocuses and tulips
Make their first appearances,
Stay protected in your warm embraces.

A tiny little bunny hopes along
And comes upon your restful bed.
Hungry little bunny takes a nibble
Of your sweet young leaves leaving
You injured and in pain.

I will fix you little flower for I know
You are special.
Here I am with steaks and burlap,
I shall save you from hungry little bunnies,
and the cruel winter frosts.

I will check on you every hour,
I will water you every day,
I will prop up your glorious head
Until you are ready to unfurl your glory.

I will do this everyday forever.
I will tend to your needs,
I will grow you some friends,
I will keep you sheltered and happy.

One day I awoke to a beautiful
Spring morning with birds chirping
And a gentle warm breeze.
Racing outside to tend to you I
Found you in a special state of joy.

Instead of my sickly little bud
A glorious flower stood in its place.
With blue petals to match the brilliant sky
And a white center the color of
The happy clouds
You stood there beaming at me.

Thank you little flower.
Thank you for giving me the gift
Of unconditional love.

Thank you little flower.
Thank you for teaching me
To never give up hope and to
Persevere when others falter.

You and I will always
Have our early spring.
When you wake up again next year
You’ll know to wait until the ground is soft.
You’ll know that when you do return, I will tend to you for all the springs to come.

Tail of Devotion for Samoa, Violet, and Calvin

I always had cats in my life when I lived with my parents. When I was in college, and later married, I developed severe allergies to cats from not being around them anymore. I knew that I would never own a cat. My famous last words!

Enter living in the country . . . . . stray cat . . . I’ll just feed her on the porch . . . . .winter arrives . . . . . she can stay in the garage . . . . . it’s so cold out in the garage . . . .start the weekly allergy shots.

Enter Samoa. She is the quiet, sensitive cat with the little sounds, soft purrs, and tiptoe movements. Not until I got involved with Catster and started photographing my pets did I realize that Samoa is such a diva. She loves the attention, the boas, and the posing! It is our special time together. I love that she tries to act tough and intimidating around Calvin and Violet when she is really scared of them. She is the princess and everyone knows it. She has the most beautiful markings, and the softest, down-like fur. She is a princess, and I love her so much!

Enter Violet. Boy with a girl’s name. A neighbor who didn’t care about their cat owned Violet. However, because of the attention and food, he hung around our house, and eventually never went back to his other place. Violet is the loud talker, noisy walker, cabinet climber, furniture scratcher. But that is what I love about him – he is so smart and knows how to get what he wants. I love the way Violet sleeps at the foot of the bed every night, and like clockwork, massages each of my shoulders! He is very affectionate and loves when you talk to him and stroke his face. I love photographing Violet outdoors. He is a beautiful cat with such expression!

Enter Calvin. My heart. I have never loved an animal the way I love Calvin. He belonged to my Mom’s twin sister. He was a stray when he came into her life. She died of cancer four years ago, and the day after the funeral, her husband took Calvin and his three siblings to the humane society. I adopted all of them, found homes for the other three, and kept Calvin. He spent a week under the bed. I think it was his way of saying he didn’t want to leave. He is the most affectionate cat – always on a lap, a big cuddle bug that has to sleep right next to you. He purrs like a motorboat, and loves to kiss Violet. He rules the house – sleeps wherever he wants, tells you when he wants to eat, and occasionally chases Samoa through the house! I thank God every day that I rescued him, and I know my aunt is smiling knowing that he is bringing joy to our lives.

>> WATCH THE VIDEO TAIL OF DEVOTION

Laura, the Mawmee

My Tale of Devotion for The Whitest of Boys

Lately I've been musing a lot about Luxor, our white, green-eyed Oriental Shorthair. I've been remembering things from when he was a baby, like how fragile his neck seemed, so tiny and vulnerable, like that of a bird. He was so crazy! He'd run straight at a wall and go up it partway, or he'd leap off the cat tree from high up - things like that - and my heart would catch in my throat as I thought, "Oh, that little neck ..."

I'm making it sound as if he's ancient now; he's not. He'll be three years old this coming January. But in a lot of ways he's still like he was as a kitten. Everything excited him. It was as if he woke up thinking, "What new and wonderful thing am I going to experience today?" My bright-eyed boy! He loved/loves to eat. And he would eat anything; he was always interested in some new culinary experience. He'd eat lettuce, or I'd hand him a piece of onion and it was history. He once stole a fried egg off my husband's sandwich when my husband went back into the kitchen for just a minute.

He's an indoor cat (not by choice, certainly), but sometimes we'll take him for a ride in the car because he wants to get out of the house so much. And he peers out the windows with those intense eyes of his, taking everything in, missing nothing.

I just love him. It's hard to describe exactly why. One could say it's because he's funny and entertaining. One could say it's because he's beautiful to look at. But love is more than these superficial things; it goes deeper than that. It's the excitement I feel coming home and seeing him waiting in the window. It's lying down to read a book and feeling him lean against my leg as it it were a pillow. It's of the heart, and hearts, as anyone knows, have minds of their very own.


~ By Elaine, Luxor's Mom

My Tale of Devotion to Mao Nichols

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NOT ELIGIBLE FOR VOTING
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I’ve had Siamese cats my entire life. My first, Freda, grew up with me. Freda was blind, and slept on my chest every night from the time I left the crib to the day she died in my arms at the age of fourteen. In countless childhood photos, I’m depicted hauling Freda around like one of my dolls, putting her atop owr ponies for rides, stuffing her in a doll's baby carriage. She was an amazing cat, and we were inextricably bound to one another.

When I had my first opportunity to have cats as an adult, I adopted a stray (Perl) from the pound, and Mao’s uncle, a Siamese. The first couple of days were difficult. Uncle Mao would not come out from under the bed, and I was convinced he detested me. But once he came out, we bonded and he slept every night thereafter in my left armpit. When he passed away, I got Mao, the nephew of my original (“Uncle”) Mao. In my family, male Siamese were always named Mao, so the name was a foregone conclusion. (It’s from a Kliban cartoon in which two cats are wearing Mao jackets. One cat is saying “Mao”, and the second, contemplating a mouse hole is saying, “Mousie Dung”.) Mao was the kitten from his litter that nobody wanted: seriously crosseyed and buck-toothed, he wasn’t going to win any beauty pageants. He came home with me, yowling for dear life, and he hasn’t quieted down since. He helped heal the incalcuable loss I felt over Uncle Mao's death in a way that only a new kitten can do.

By then, Mr Tasty Face was in my life, and was working from home, so as a kitten, Mao spent cold mornings buttoned inside Mr TF’s shirt while he worked on the computer. I was also lucky enough to be able to take Mao the kitten to work with me, and he made best friends with Oski --- a teeny tiny tabby --- a kitten belonging to a co-worker. Mao perfected his Siamese bellow early, and would yowl ceaselessly in the office until Oski arrived at work… and then the play began nonstop. Because his bellowing was disruptive, I often had to shut him inside an empty file cabinet in my office where I kept his bed so that he wouldn’t be evicted. Mao and Oski were the very best of friends.

Like most Siamese, Mao is a two-person cat. He is unquestionably MY cat, but he’s also very close to Mr Tasty Face. And we’re the only two people on Earth he will interact with. Once, I went to Montana for a photography workshop, and Mr TF was scheduled to meet me there toward the end of the week for a brief vacation. Even with Mr TF at home, Mao ran away (presumably, looking for me). I endured a miserable few days until Mr TF found Mao, a short distance from our home. He disappears when catsitters stay with them. He’ll disappear when we’re gone for only a day. This has presented a problem in attempting to plan vacations. Once, when I was gone for a weekend, he went into the kitchen cupboards and found a bag of flour and distributed the contents across the entire kitchen floor. (I don’t know how he did it – it was as if there had been a flour explosion.) But even as infuriating as he can be, he is hopelessly endearing and unquestionably devoted to us.

He also detests any changes in his routine. He insists on sleeping in my right armpit (Uncle Mao favored the left), and if he comes to bed and finds me sleeping on my stomach so that he can’t make a bed in my armpit, he’ll sit on my back and poke me with his paw until I roll over and present the correct armpit to him. He will pee on things if he doesn’t get his way. He’s territorial -- more so than even a junkyard dog. Mao waits every single night in the yard for me to arrive home from work. The routine never varies. He walks up to the car, yowls, stretches, then rolls onto his back on the sidewalk, inviting me to scratch his tummy. On evenings when we watch TV, he has to sit on my lap, never Mr TF’s. When I’m at the computer, he sits atop my mouse hand, and I rub his belly with the topside of my hand.

Mao has an extensive vocabulary of discrete vocalizations. He is extremely expressive, and honestly, you can tell exactly what he is saying. He is often cranky, but endearingly so. He has a broad repetoire of tricks that he has effortlessly mastered. He can sit, fetch, shake, high-five, and get in the box. I can dress him in absolutely anything and he will pose for photographs for hours on end. When I start setting up for a shoot, he will jump up and get in position without being asked. It’s not that he likes doing it – one look at the expression on his face betrays his disdain – but he does want to make me happy and spend quality time with me. And get some Pit’r Pats in the bargain.

He’s also a masterful dumpster diver. He used to “fetch” bagels for us from the trash behind a café a half-block from our house. I was completely befuddled by finding old bagels in the middle of the kitchen floor, or on the porch or deck… until I caught him red-pawed, bagel-in-mouth, hauling a sesame bagel home. I’m sure in his own way he was trying to bring us gifts. He also hauls his favorite toy (a rainbow wand) around the house in his mouth, yowling an unnerving gutteral yowl at maximum volume. He prefers to do this in the hours between 2 and 4 am. For the uninitiated, it sounds as if he's being tortured. We have to hide his toy every night if we want to enjoy uninterrupted sleep.

When Mr TF and I first started dating, Mr TF thought I was a little on the crazy cat lady side to talk to my cats. Even crazier that the cats talked back. It didn’t take long before he realized that we were truly communicating, and the interactions were just as rich as those you might have with humans. And of course, before long, he was talking to the cats, too. And giving me advice on how they wanted to be petted, or inventing new cats toys, or catering to their whims, or teaching them new tricks. Mao was his introduction to cats as interactive companions, not just furballs you feed and water and clean up after. As such, Mao is the cornerstone of our "family" --- a family that includes parental units and three cat kids. The inter-species relationships are as real (if not more so) as any other familial relationships, and we are blessed to have Mao, Skeezix and Rocky in our life.

So in broad strokes, I’m trying to paint a picture of my devotion to Mao. We are mates. He’s typical Siamese. He’s not a low-maintenance cat – he demands attention and interaction as insistently as any two-year old. But he rewards me with ceaseless devotion and amusement and companionship. As he gets older, he gets increasingly vocal and cranky and short-tempered, but I wouldn’t want him any other way.

--- The Food Lady


Mao's blog: Mao's Mews

My Tail of Devotion to Skeezix

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NOT ELIGIBLE FOR VOTING

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Skeezix, where do I begin?

You didn't know it, but you had a huge void to fill when you entered our lives. In December 2004, our beloved Balinese, Junior, passed away unexpectedly. We were unprepared and utterly devasted. Junior was Jeff's cat --- heart and soul --- and Jeff was inconsolable. He sat on the back deck in the cold dark night rocking back and forth, holding Junior's cold, shrouded body, sobbing and shuddering with grief. I had to deal not only with my grief, but with Jeff's, to try to get him -- and us -- through it. Junior was the first cat who was Jeff's alone, and this man who was not a "cat person" when I met him was far more devastated with grief than he had been over the loss of any human. To this day, if I mention Junior's name or Jeff sees a photo of him, Jeff will tear up spontaneously. It was months before he stopped crying himself to sleep.

In those dark days just before Christmas, our despair was palpable. Both Mao and Rocky were also deeply affected by Junior's death. Rocky refused to come in the house, and Mao was at loose ends. Jeff was in tears every single night at bedtime, and often throughout the day. I couldn't face Christmas without Junior, and I knew from personal experience that, although Junior could not be replaced, that a new kitten would divert our focus from mourning 24 hours a day and help us heal.

We had to get a kitten because Mao is an unapologetic alpha cat who would never let another adult cat in the house. He and Rocky do not socialize or interact, but since Rocky has seniority, Mao begrudgingly leaves him alone. (This changed when they teamed up to invent Mao & Rocky's Vishus Deer Repelunt.) Finding a kitten in the dead of winter is a challenge. I kept my plans a secret from Jeff because I knew he'd say no if I asked him. I frantically searched the entire Bay Area, starting at Siamese Rescue and every shelter, then every classified ad, Mao's breeder, and anyone else I could think of. I searched the Sacramento area, and expanded my search to include everywhere I could drive to and from within a single day. I googled and googled and googled. No luck.

Since Junior had been Balinese, I was looking for a Balinese -- although any Siamese type of cat would do. Junior had every Balinese characteristic nailed --- he knew he was beautiful, he had these amazing pantaloons, he carried his tale like a flame, and he was a clown. He was vocal, but less so and at a lower volume than Mao (thank goodness). He loved every cat, and every cat loved Junior. He was an excellent counterpoint to Mao, and I was seeking similar characteristics in a new cat. I didn't want a Junior clone, but I wanted a little clown who would agreeably allow Mao to maintain his alpha status while still being outgoing, and provide Mao with companionship (Mao is one of those cats who needs a companion.)

Despairing of finding a kitten before Christmas, I was resigning myself to the darkest most depressing Christmas ever when a woman in Berkeley responded to an email I had sent to her. She had some chocolate lynx point Balinese -- two females. I preferred a male cat, but didn't feel that strongly about it, so I stopped by on my way home from work. The kittens had the biggest ears I'd ever seen, but were beautiful. One was very shy, so I gravitated toward the more outgoing one. I was conflicted. I didn't really "connect" with either kitten, but I didn't know whether to trust my judgement. I was telling the woman that I typically preferred male kittens, and she said she had the brother of the two I was looking at, but that he was a runt with poor coloring and his coat was thin, and his eyes were a little crossed, and oh yeah, he had a crook in his tail -- he'd never show. Before I laid eyes on him, I sensed he was the one. She asked me if I wanted to see him, and of course, I did. He was the tiniest thing (more than three months old, but he looked about half that age), but had this incredible sense of self assurance and curiosity. I held him, and he crawled up on my shoulder and purred as loud as his little body would allow (just as Junior had when I picked him out years before). There was no question. He was the one.


When I brought him home, Jeff was understandably upset. I promised to return him if Jeff wanted me to. I removed him from the carrier, and he was just SO SMALL! Mao came to investigate the mewing, and immediately curled up with him, grooming him. He hissed when Skeezix started nursing on him, but for the most part was completely accepting of our new addition.

Skeezix knew instinctively that he had to win Jeff over if he was going to be able to stay. So with a single-minded sense of purpose, he began by licking Jeff's face as often as he could get away with it. Jeff zipped him up inside whatever sweater or jacket he was wearing where he would purr until his purrer gave out. Needless to say, they bonded. Like superglue. He never licked my face, but every single morning he bolts into my bed when Jeff gets up, and lays on top of my neck, purring as loud as he can, until Jeff is done in the bathroom and heads toward the cat feeding station to dish up breakfast. With his satellite dish ears, Skeezix can hear Jeff's hand on the doorknob in the bathroom, and bolts off the bed the minute he hears it. Skeezix never lets our quality time together get in the way of his breakfast.

About a week after we got him he got sick with a respiratory infection and then had a serious constipation problem requiring trips to the emergency vet. We've had to deal with his chronic problem with the squirts, including his penchant for stepping in his squishy poop then tracking it all over us and the house. He is one messy, stinky. ugly cat. But we adore him. And he's one of the most popular patients at Boulevard Pet Hospital.

I turned over the naming of him to Jeff, since it was going to be his cat. We spent days tossing around every name imaginable, including Hoover and Oreck (based on how he vacuumed up every morsel of food put in front of him). When Jeff came up with Skeezix, it struck us both as perfect. It fit his outgoing goofy personality. It was a nod to Jeff's dad, who used it as a nickname for Jeff and his brothers when the boys were small. The original Skeezix was a Gasoline Alley comic strip character. This Skeezix belongs in his own comic strip.

I began to dress him in sweaters because he had a very thin coat, and would often not come out of his heated cat cup when it was cold. We knew he could never go outside, so we taught him to walk on a leash, and later, bought a stroller for him so that he could safely make his way around the neighborhood. We realized early on that he was going to remain a homely cat, a feeling reinforced by everyone's first reaction to him: "That is the ugliest cat I've ever seen!" You know what? It doesn't phase him (or us) a bit. He seems to know he can't get by on looks, so he has to make up for it with a great personality. And he really has a great personality.

There are times when I see the spirit of Junior channeled through him. Skeezix is exactly like Junior in that he goes up to any new cat, introduces himself, then starts to wrassle. No cat is a threat, just a new playbuddy. Junior did that, too. The first time he did it with Rocky, Rocky was flumoxed. No cat had ever tried to play with him before. Junior changed all that. And after Rocky eased out of the mourning period over the loss of Junior, Skeezix stepped in and engaged Rocky in play ... and every evening they play long and hard for an hour or more.

In an interesting parallel, although Junior was registered as a Siamese, as his coat came in and his personality manifested itself, it was obvious that he was Balinese. Although Skeezix was registered as Balinese, it became obvious as he matured that he was not Balinese, and a little research on the part of Skeezix's friends Shabby and Kalin revealed that he was really an oriental shorthair... which introduced us to the world of frootbats... and Luxor and Kaze.

Skeezix and Junior were physically dissimilar - Junior was a gorgeous, rotund, very fluffy cat. But like Junior, Skeezix is a clown, self-assured, affectionate, a shoulder cat, friendly, and a sweet companion to Mao. Like the last puzzle piece, he slipped into the family dynamic and made us whole again.

Skeezix, you helped us through the darkest days of our life. You continue to make us laugh uncontrollably at your antics, and we miss you desperately when we're apart. We hope to spend the next twenty years with you.

-- The Food Lady

>> Skeezix's Blog

My Tail of Devotion to Rocky the Gutter Cat

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NOT ELIGIBLE FOR VOTING
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I am not the original caretaker of Rocky the Gutter Cat. Rocky was a street kitten who ended up (thank goodness) at the San Francisco SPCA, a no-kill shelter. They regularly had a mobile adoption unit set up outside of our offices in downtown San Francisco. One day, a co-worker --- Bill --- and I were coming back from lunch, and of course, stopped to interact with all the cats seeking adoption. Bill was suffering from AIDS and had recently lost a cherished cat to old age. When he walked by Rocky’s cage, Rocky reached out to us with his paw --- maybe like Rocky Balboa striking a punch. We were captivated. He was outgoing, had gorgeous tuxedo markings and did everything in his power to convince us to adopt him. (I still remember a set of three other timid tuxies in the cage next to Rocky: their names were John, Paul and George.) I already had my quota of cats, but Bill had a hole in his heart waiting to be filled. Rocky was ready to fill it.

We went up to our office, but couldn’t stop talking about Rocky. Bill really wanted a cat, but was concerned about what might happen to the cat if something happened to him. I promised Bill that if anything happened to him, that I would take Rocky. With that, we charged the elevator and prayed that no one had adopted Rocky in the meantime. Fortunately, no one had, and about 20 minutes later, we were headed back up the elevator with Rocky in an SFSPCA cat carrier. We deposited him in an empty conference room until the end of the day. He seemed impossibly tiny, but was amazingly adept at ejecting powerful stink particles into the air. By the end of the day the office reeked, bringing grown men to tears. Fortunately, his intestinal problems worked themselves out.

Rocky filled Bill’s life with joy and a renewed sense of purpose. Every morning, Bill would come in full of “Rocky stories.” The antics of this small kitten took Bill’s mind off the dizzying array of medicinal cocktails and disease ravaging his body. It was as if he’d received a new injection of hope.

Unfortunately, Bill had to leave work on permanent medical disability a few months later. When I would visit, Rocky was always at his side, quietly purring. Bill obviously worshipped him, and the feeling was mutual. On a dark, dank December day, Bill passed away after an abrupt and unexpected turn for the worst. As promised, I took Rocky into my home, although it was extremely painful at first. I ached for this poor cat who couldn’t understand what was going on, and I was in mourning for the loss of a dear friend. But Rocky helped keep Bill’s spirit alive for me, and he was a sweet pet.

Rocky never made a play for alpha cat status. He was just a mellow fellow, probably a little confused by the changes in his life. Although he can be jumpy or skittish, he can also relax like no other cat I’ve ever seen --- when I hoist him over my shoulder in a “baby burping” position, he becomes completely limp and purrs as loud as he possibly can. Unfortunately, and somewhat unbeknownst to me, my territorial tortie terror, Perl, often ran him out of the house or off the porch when he approached the house. At first, I just thought he preferred outdoor living, but later it became apparent what was happening.

When Jeff moved in with me, Perl’s behavior got out of hand – she sprayed every single piece of expensive furniture that Jeff moved into the house. Fortunately, this occurred at a time when my sister was experiencing a severe rat problem, and Perl was a skilled ratinator. Perl moved in with my sister (where she lives happily to this day) and I adopted Junior as a companion for Mao. The very first time Junior encountered Rocky, he ran up and tried to get Rocky to play with him. Rocky was dumbfounded. No cat had ever played with him before. No longer subjected to Perl’s domination, Rocky and Junior became fast friends, and Rocky underwent an amazing transformation, interacting much more with us and with Junior, and becoming a full-time indoor cat. (Mao and Rocky are reasonably polite to one another, but they don’t particularly like one another.)

When we lost Junior years later, Rocky again underwent a transformation. He refused to live in the house (which I think reminded him of Junior), and instead insisted on staying outside, most of the time in the gutter. Why the gutter? Who knows. We had no control over it. He was miserable in the house, and peed absolutely everywhere but the litterbox when we attempted to keep him inside. It was as if he had to process his grief again, alone, in his own way.

When Skeezix came to live with us, Rocky had little contact with him, since Rocky lives outside and Skeezix is strictly an indoor cat. But a few months ago, when Rocky had his pee problems, we had to move him inside so that we could closely monitor his urine output and how much water he consumed. Like Junior, Skeezix immediately identified Rocky as a potential playmate, and he engaged him in play --- mostly, “rassling,” or playing with the tunnel box. Rocky underwent another transformation, accepting his life indoors, and bonding with Skeezix. Those two now play relentlessly with each other every night. And Rocky is happy living inside.

Rocky is a sweet soul. His life has been defined by difficult transitions, and except for the Junior years, he’s been kind of a loner. He’s more difficult to understand than the Siamese – unlike Mao, whose vocabulary is peppered with nuance, Rocky has a one-word, one-note vocabulary: a distinctive whine. So determining what he wants involves going to the feeding area, the water dish, the front door, all for a clue as to what he’s getting at. And we eventually do get it.

Rocky’s life’s work was accomplished in the first year of his life, when he filled a dying man’s days with joy and hope. Rocky, I see your time with me as your long retirement, and I really do hope I can give back a fraction of the joy to you that you gave to Bill.

---- Rocky's Ladey


Link to Rocky's blog: Rocky's Ramblings

Enter Now!

PRIZES
THE WINNER GITS ALL THIS:

• A $50 gift sertifikit to eether Honeybaked Ham or Great Harvest Bread Company
• Tales of Devotion, by Emily Scott Pottruck (all proseeds frum sales of this book go to animul chariteez).
• Sponsership of a Best Frends Animul Sankchewery cat in yoo or yer hyooman's name
• A Whirlybird cat toy (my faverit toy!!!)
• A can of Mao & Rocky's Vishus Deer Repelunt

As Thanksgiving aprochez, it's time to give thanks for the happy homes owr hyoomans have givin us, and heck, it'd be nice for owr hyoomans to aknolije how thankful they are to have us arownd!

So, heer's yer chanse to git yer hyoomans to say why yer importunt to them.

This is a "Tales of Devoshun" contest. For this contest, yer hyooman(s) will rite a storey abowt why YOO are importunt to them. Yoo can inklood text, fotos, video, and anything else yoo can think of. No limits. It can be as long or short as yoo like, and it can be in any format (a story, a poem, a song, a top ten list --- anything!) Yoo can see samples heer. Altho yoo can rite abowt anything, heer are sum things yoo mite wunt to diskuss if yoo don't know ware to start:

• How did yer hyooman find yoo?
• How do yoo demonstrate affekshun to yer hyooman?
• How have yoo endeerd yerself to yer peeple?
• Did an event happen that bonded yoo and yer peeple?
• What makes yoo a member of yer hyooman's famly rather than just a creechur they feed Fancy Feest to?

Reed this exserpt frum the introdukshun to the book, "Tails of Devotion," by Emily Scott Pottruck to find owt more. And heer's Catster's Tails of Devotion page, with lots of samples.

As an ixzample, this is whut my Food Lady mite rite abowt me:

I reely love Skeezix the Cat. I'm lukkey to have a cat hoo dresses as well as Skeezix duz. Skeezix has lots of frends. He's a frendly cat. Even tho he's stinky, we still love him. Evry morning, he can't wate to come into the peeple bedroom and sit on my nek and purr. He's the best cat ever. --- By the Food Lady

HOW TO ENTER:

For sekyurity, instruckshuns on signing in are on Skeezix's blog.

In addishun to yer Tale of Devoshun, make shur yoo add a link to yer blog or Catster page so I can git in tuch with yoo if yoo win!

ROOLZ

1. Yer Tale of Devoshun must be submitted by yer hyooman(s). Yoo can't rite one abowt yerself and enter it. That wood be cheeting and cheeting izn't nice.
2. Yoo can enter one cat or a household of cats for each tale. HOWEVER, no cat can appeer in more than one entrey. (For example, Grr, Midnight and Cocoa cood be entered as three entreez: one for Grr, one for Midnight, and one for Cocoa; or they cood be entered as one entrey: Grr, Midnight and Cocoa; or two entreez: one with Grr and Midnight, and one for Cocoa; but they cood NOT be entered as a groop AND indivijually.)
3. Entreez must be submitted prior to NOON (PST) Friday, November 17th.
4. Yoo can update, revise and add to yer entry at any time, even after voting has begun.
5. Winners will be chozen by popyuler vote. Voting will begin at 12:01 pm on Saturday, November 18th and continue through 11:59 pm on Wednesday, November 23rd. Voting instrukshuns will be posted on my blog when voting opens.
6. In the event of a tie, a panel consisting of Skeezix the Cat, Mao, Rocky the Gutter Cat and Tripper the psyko stray cat will chooze the winner. In that case, the one not chozen the winner will still reeseeve a copy of the book.
7. I can change the roolz anytime I wunt becuz it's my contest.
8. Voting is open to anyone. Only one vote allowed per valid emale adress. Yoo are enkerijed to solisit votes frum yer frends and famly.
9. Eech entrey gits a secund vote. If multiple cats are grooped in a singul entrey, they git one extra vote. If they are in seprit entreez, eech entrey gits a vote. Yoo will post yer extra vote in the comments sekshun of yer entry. For yer extra vote, yoo cannot vote for yerself or a cat in yer howsehold.
10. Winner will be annownst on Thanksgiving Day, November 24th.
    
    In case yer wundering why this isn't a contest for YOO to say how importunt yer persun is to yoo, yoo'll git yer chanse with the next contest. The last contest of the yeer will be a "Food Lady/Food Dude of the Yeer Award," in wich yoo'll git to nominate yer persun with yer own tale of devoshun.