She's a Pearl of a Girl

Pearl, the kitten who graces my blog header, is my gorgeous little long-haired dilute calico Manx and the daughter of Peek-A-Boo. She was born in a box of truck parts at the sewer cleaning company where I used to work. She is the most beautiful kitty ever, and she knows it. In fact, when you tell her she's the most beautiful kitty in the world, she answers with her sweet little "mew" as if to say "I know."

Her nicknames are "Pearlie Bunnybum" (self-explanatory) and "Pearlie Baglicker" because she loves to lick those plastic bags from the grocery store.





Pearl is built like a little race car, with back legs slightly longer than front legs. This causes her to run like a rabbit - two front legs and then two back legs. It is the funniest thing to see. Every once in a while she "escapes" out the side door when I'm hanging laundry and takes off bouncing through the yard with me chasing after her, screaming, "Bunny, get back here." Then she goes and hides underneath the barberry bush, which is covered with thorns, where she knows I can't get to her. Or she runs up the stairs to the kitchen porch, and when I follow her, she jumps off the other end and goes back behind the barberry bush. Me running after and screaming like a crazy woman the whole time. I'm sure it's all very entertaining for my neighbors.





Pearl is 7 years old and a joy to have around. She is a true diva, expecting to be treated like the princess that she is. Don't worry, Pearlie, we won't tell anybody you were born in a box of parts for the sewer-cleaning trucks.

RIP Buck

Buck was one of those multi-family cats that everyone in the neighborhood loves. He was a big gray tabby who appeared on the kitchen doorstep of my friend Gene one day a few years ago. Being the cat lover that he is, Gene gave him some Whisker Lickins and went off to work. Pretty soon the cat was showing up on Gene's doorstep every day, and Gene christened him "Buck."

Every day at work, Gene would tell me stories about Buck. "Buck did this, Buck did that, you should see what Buck did today." We figured he must belong to somebody, as some cats like to secretly keep two or three families on the line. Eventually Buck was allowed to come into the house to get his Whisker Lickins, and then he would go back out.

After a few months, Gene found out that Buck actually belonged to a lady a couple of streets away, but he wasn't worried too much because it's a classy suburban neighborhood where people don't drive too fast. He did let the lady know about Buck's visits, though, and he found out that Buck's real name was Smokey.

Buck continued to visit Gene nearly every day, getting his treats and sharing his love. Gene eventually moved to a different job so I don't see him every day anymore, but we keep in touch and he always has a Buck story.

But today it was a sad story. A couple weeks ago, Buck came to the door in the evening. Gene let him in and gave him some Whisker Lickins, and then Buck went upstairs and climbed up on Gene's son Mark's bed. In the morning, he was still there, sleeping, and he would purr when they petted him. Later, when they came home from work, Buck still had not moved.

Gene was worried and immediately called Buck/Smokey's owner, and she came and got him and took him to the vet. I am not sure what all was wrong, but all Gene knows is that his tail was broken near the base, and they ended up sending poor Buck to the bridge. I can't imagine why they would do that for just a broken tail, so there must have been more to it than that.

I never met Buck, but I knew him so well from the stories Gene would bring to work, and I'm sure he had friends all over. He will be missed.

A New Bed for Timmy

I found this great kitty bed on sale at PetsMart for $6.99 today. As soon as I got it out of the bag and before I even took the tag off, Timmy was on it, kneading like crazy. Looks like he has claimed it for his own.





I am very happy because Timmy has been sleeping either on the kitchen table or on a cold metal cabinet for the longest time. I hate to see him sleep there on that cold surface, but if I take him to a bed or the couch, he jumps down and goes right back to the kitchen. But he instantly fell for this soft, plush bed, which I guess will now stay on the kitchen table. At least my boy is warm now.

My Little Brown-Noser

This little cutie came to live with me four years ago after his previous owner died. He is six years old now. My friend Debbie lived next door to Atticus (whose name was "Ratachak" then, ugh) and his owner, and when Rainie died, Debbie asked me if I would take her kitty.

When I got there, the poor little thing was so far under a cart in the kitchen that I had to lay down on the floor to reach him. It took a while to get him out, and he wouldn't stop crying.

After I got him home, he camped out in my basement for the first six months. He wouldn't come near me or anybody else. He had a bed down there that he stayed on, and whenever anybody came downstairs, he would hide. He was sad and grieving for a long time.

Eventually he started coming upstairs and hanging out, though he has never gotten friendly with any of the other cats. Last year he really shocked me by getting into bed and sleeping with me while other cats were there. He will only sleep with me once in a while, as a special treat for me I guess. But he still won't let other people see him, except on rare occasions when he will saunter through the room when I have a date over. Probably just to check him out and make sure he's good enough for me. To this day, my mom doesn't know I have him and he's been here for four years!

Atticus has a habit of growling at other cats, especially Reese. If Reese is even in the same room, Atticus will carry on like he is some kind of big scary mountain lion. It's very amusing and has earned him the nickname "Professor Grumbly-Puss."

I named him after Atticus Finch of To Kill a Mockingbird because I just couldn't live with the name "Ratachak" and Atticus had enough of the same sound that I didn't think it would be too hard for him to get used to it. He's a very sweet boy who hates to be held but loves to snuggle up next to me in bed.

Miss Bess!

We love Miss Bess! She is my friend from the O-R and she blogs about anything and everything with a fresh, eclectic approach. And she has the coolest wardrobe I've ever seen! I drool over her vintage purses and funky shoes. Check out her place here!

Ringo and Rascal, the Twins

Like so many of my cats, Ringo was dropped off in my neighborhood and was roaming around for a few days. My neighbor Cathy (bless her heart, she is an angel) and I chased him down and caught him. We thought he belonged to the people across the street who were on vacation, so we put him in their screened porch and gave him some food. Imagine their surprise when they arrived home to find a strange cat on their porch with food and water bowls and a litterbox!

After finding out that he was an abandoned kitty after all, I took him home and called my mom, whose 18-year-old Maine Coon, Smokey, had recently died. I told her that Callie, her remaining cat, needed a new companion. "Nothing doing," she said. "I'm moving to an apartment and I can only have one cat." I told her "That's okay, he can stay here and I'll try to find a home for him or just keep him."

The next day she called me back. "Why don't you bring him over and let me see him," she said. Of course I took him right over, and she immediately fell in love with the scrawny-ass thing. This picture was taken that day (my mom's feet in the background). He fell in love with her too. Then we tried to come up with a name for him, finally settling on Ringo for the rings around his tail.

My mom fattened Ringo up in short order and he became her constant companion. While Callie was a bit of a loner, Ringo would not leave her alone and always demanded attention and love.

Tragically, Callie suddenly died a few months later from kidney failure at the tender age of 5. My mom and I were devastated, and I'm sure Ringo was grieving as well.

As things always have a way of working themselves out, my friend Brenda called, in tears again, because she had been diagnosed with a chronic illness and would have to give up her beloved Rascal. I knew Rascal well because I always babysat him for two weeks at Christmastime when she and her husband went back home for the holidays. This is Rascal when he was a baby, cuddling with my mama cat Crystal. She is the best mama cat ever, mothering all kittens and even her own kittens who are now six years old.

I called my mom again. "Ringo needs a friend," I said. "Nothing doing," she said. "Okay, no problem, but he's really sweet and would make a great brother for Ringo. He looks just like him!"

"No, I can't take another cat, I'm moving to an apartment." Yeah, right. She's been saying that for the last four years.

Yes, she called me the next day. "I'll try him out for the weekend and see how he does with Ringo." I rushed him right over.

Rascal, who had always been an only cat and who Brenda thought would not like another cat, took immediately to Ringo. It was like watching the Patty Duke Show - they are almost identical! They started chasing each other around the house and playing right away - no hissing or even staring contests. It was instant bonding. Of course, my mom fell in love with Rascal too.

The boys have been together for a while now and love each other and my mom. I'm happy I was able to play matchmaker again. Aren't they adorable?

Baby Sweet Pea!

In the summer of 2003, as I was preparing to move out of my marriage and the house that went with it, my neighbor Brenda showed up at my door one day with tears in her eyes. When I opened the door, I noticed that she was holding the most forlorn-looking, flea-infested kitten I had ever seen. He was a tiny, black and white thing not more than six weeks old.

Brenda told me the heartbreaking story of how she came to have the little one, which she called Sweet Pea. She was at work and saw a man across the road trying to kill a litter of kittens on his porch by hitting them with a broom. Horrified, she ran over there while he was in the house and took Sweet Pea, the only kitten she could find. "My landlord won't let me have a cat," she sobbed. "Can you take him?"

Who could say no? Look at that face! I told her I would be moving in a few days, but that I would take the kitten. I know she desperately wanted to keep him, but her landlord was also my ex-husband's uncle and a real S.O.B. so I knew she wouldn't be able to.

Sweet Pea grew up into a gorgeous boy, and his name suits him. He is a real sweetheart! His nickname is Mr. Peepers, or Pee Pee for short.

He is about six months old in the ducky picture.

One of his favorite things in the world is the "Peeper Sweeper," my Oreck mini-vac that I use to sweep the cat hair from the stairs and under the furniture. All of the other cats run like hell as soon as they hear the sweeper getting plugged in, but not Pee Pee. All I have to say is "I'm getting out the Peeper Sweeper!" and he comes running. I vacuum his whole body, sucking his tail into the nozzle, and he flops over so I can vacuum his belly. The only thing he hates is when I accidently suck up an ear - it makes a really loud noise!

Sweet Pea is going to be six years old this summer, and he has been a joy to have around. I love him to death! He likes to sleep on top of my legs at night.

Brenda eventually talked her landlord into letting her have a cat, and she got Rascal. Unfortunately, she got sick last year and had to give Rascal up, but my mom took him as a companion for her Ringo. They look like twins! Rascal and Ringo will be another post.

Reese, the Thug

I guess every crowd has one - a troublemaker. At my house, it's Reese.

Reese came to me shortly after birth with his sisters Opal and Hayley, his brother China, and mom Crystal.

I had gone to the Washington Area Humane Society with the intent of fostering a mom and her kittens, specifically one with an orange kitten, as both my daughter and I wanted to adopt orange kittens. As it happened, Crystal had been dropped at the door the night before with her four babies - two of which were orange. Funny how things have a way of working out, isn't it.




I took the lot of them home that day, with full intent of returning most of them when they were ready to be adopted. Of course, I fell in love with all of them and it was even hard to let my daughter adopt China, who turned out to be a sweetheart.

I should have known Reese would be a bully, because he would shove all the other kittens off their nipples so he could have Crystal all to himself. He is the one in the forefront in this picture, always the aggressor.




I think he is bipolar - one minute he is purring in my lap, all loveable and sweet - and the next thing I know he has Holden down on the floor, fur flying everywhere and both of them screaming at the top of thier lungs.

He will beg to be petted, but when he's had enough he will attempt to remove your arm from your body with his teeth. I'm not kidding - he does not let go! And it hurts like hell when he bites. I always have to warn my guests not to pet him for fear of getting sued.

When Reese has his "episodes," he will attack anything and everyone in sight - except his sister Hayley and his little girlfriend Karuna.

Hayley and Reese were buddies when they were babies, so he never bothers her. And Karuna absolutely adores Reese. I've never seen anything like it. She latched on to him when she was a little kitten, and he taught her how to scratch on the dining room chairs. She follows him everywhere and head-butts him so he will give her kisses. You would think he would take a swing at her or bite her, but no - he licks her head and lets her snuggle right up against him on the couch. Karuna is like Maria from West Side Story - in love with the neighborhood hoodlum. All of the other cats hate Reese, to the point of hissing whenever he is just walking past them to get to the next room.

He has been in trouble so many times, he actually knows what "Time Out!" means and will go to the basement so I can close the door behind him for 20 minutes. After he calms down, he is fine for about another week.




Yes, he's gorgeous, but so many bad boys are...