We have a winner.......
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!
NOTE: If you have entered and want to link directly to your "Tale," right click on the link above and view its properties.
Link to my blog: Rosie Blog
Link to my blog: Cheeto's Blog
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.
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!
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