Murphy's Cats

Comfy Kitties

2010-01-10T12:04:00.000-08:00

When we woke up this morning, it was 1 degree outside, so Autumn and Kafka decided to stay in bed all day. I love how Autumn crosses her paws. She has always done this. Kafka, on the other hand, is too fat to cross his paws. Sorry, Kafka, it's true.

One Happy Boy

2010-01-02T09:17:00.000-08:00

And this is what Kafka looks like today. He loves to take up as much space as possible, and at this rate, I'll have to get a bigger bed soon.

Welcome 2010!

2010-01-01T16:05:00.000-08:00

Resolution No. XX: Blog more often!!

Happy New Year all, I have not posted in ages. I guess the loss of Domino took the wind out of my sails. But you haven't met my newest addition, Kafka, so here he is. This was taken the day I adopted him, back in October, just a few days after adopting TC. It seems they always come in pairs for some reason. Kafka was about 8 months old at the time and had been living in the streets of Washington, PA.

Kafka is a gorgeous blue point Siamese mix. He loves belly rubs and adores head-butting, which he does with great gusto. He also loves to eat, as he has put on about six pounds since moving in with us. TC is his best playmate; they are wrestling all the time. Kafka's favorite spot is the loveseat in the living room, which he stretches out to take up the whole thing.

R.I.P. Domino

2009-09-19T15:17:00.000-07:00

Exactly three weeks to the day after I adopted TC, my beloved Domino passed away from acute kidney failure. He was 9 years old.

If you've been a follower of my blog, you know that Dommie had suffered from kidney disease about four years ago and had recovered after alternative therapy with apple cider vinegar. According to the vet, he would not have made it then, so the vinegar bought us a few more years with Dommie.

It is hard to find a photo of Domino without Peek-A-Boo. The two were inseparable. Peekie didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Dommie, as when David and I rushed him to the vet that morning, I had no idea he would not be coming home. Peekie spent two solid weeks hiding behind a pillow on the bed in the guest room and would not come out. Yes, animals do grieve. She has now returned to sleeping on top of me at night as she used to do, with Dommie under the covers in my arms. Peekie seems to want a lot more lovins than she used to, and that is understandable.

Domino was my Little Kittles, the baby abandoned at four weeks old who I bottle fed and who suckled on my arm all his life. It's funny that TC is also a suckler, also a mama's boy, and also a tuxedo kitty, and he came into my life three weeks before Dommie exited. You have to wonder.

Tomcat Cruise

2009-09-19T14:57:00.000-07:00

I could not resist this little face when I went to PetsMart in Uniontown on August 1. I am a total sucker for tuxedo cats. The Animal Friends of Barbour County, WV, were there with about 30 kittens, and I fell in love with this little guy. He was about 12 weeks old at that time, and according to Dr. Duel, he's going to be huge (look at those feet!).

I call him Tomcat Cruise, or TC for short. Like Domino, he must have been taken from his mama too soon, because every time I give him some lovins or pet him, he immediately curls up in a ball and starts suckling on his own belly! He will sometimes do this for up t0 20 minutes, and it's loud enough to disturb my sleep, all the while purring like a locomotive and doing his pushy-paws.

TC loves little furry mousie toys, and he loves to pounce on his brothers and sisters with all four feet. They are generally not amused, but I must give Reese (the house thug) credit, he has not attacked the little one. I think he realizes he's just a baby. Maybe Reese has a heart after all.

Little TC is very attached to me and follows me everywhere. When I try to leave the house, he runs into the mudroom with me and I have to put down all my stuff, pick him up, and put him back in the house. Then he cries. If I pat my thighs, he will jump up on me (in hindsight, probably not a good idea for him to learn that since he will probably weigh over 15 pounds). He sleeps at my feet, all stretched out to his full length.

He is a very lovable addition to our family.

Domino and Peek-A-Boo

2009-07-04T07:10:00.000-07:00

I have never seen two cats more in tune to one another than Domino and Peek-A-Boo. You can always find them together, snuggled up somewhere. At night, Domino sleeps under the covers with Mama, his head on her shoulder, and Peekie sleeps on top of Mama to be near her man.

Domino and Peek-A-Boo are both 9 years old, and they came to live with me within a few months of each other.

Aren't they the cutest couple?

Help with the Housework

2009-05-30T17:18:00.000-07:00

Here is my "basement cat," Pyewacket, "helping" me change the sheets by grabbing and hanging on to them when I try to pull them off the bed. Notice his look of utter insolence.

He is no doubt channeling Sam-I-Am, my daughter's Siamese who died a few years ago of cancer. Sammy played this game with me every Saturday morning, refusing to let me take the covers and sheets off the bed. He would go crazy trying to hold everything on the bed - it was just hysterical. I miss Sammy so much. Thanks, Pye, for bringing his memory back to me every week.

Head butts

2009-05-17T14:39:00.000-07:00

Some people just demand to be the center of attention at all times...

Happy Birthday to Crystal's Kittens!

2009-04-20T15:40:00.000-07:00

These babies are Crystal's kittens, born 7 years ago today - China Cat Sunflower, Reese, Opal, and Hayley. China now lives with my daughter and son-in-law, but the rest of the gang are still with me.

The next picture is of Hayley, Opal, and Reese sleeping on my bed with mama Crystal in the background.

Happy 7th Birthday to my beautiful babies!

Timmy's New Chair

2009-04-20T15:24:00.002-07:00

I recently acquired this awesome antique chair, which Timmy has already claimed for his own. But he's such a good boy, I don't mind.

Cat Blog of the Week!

2009-03-25T14:58:00.000-07:00

We are honored and humbled to have been chosen by Franny Syufy as the About Cats Cat Blog of the Week! Franny is the quintessential Cat Lady (even more so than me, if you can believe that). She loves all kitties to death, is an expert on all things cats, and her life revolves around them. The woman is an angel!! If you haven't already done so, go to http://cats.about.com/ and sign up for her weekly About Cats newsletter, read her Cats Blog, and find out all kinds of cool things about cats!

Lots of love and purrs to Franny and her kitty family!

Karuna

2009-03-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

Karuna is the Buddhist term for compassion, which is what I felt when I saw this gorgeous kitten who had been heartlessly dropped in the yard of my neighbor's daughter. Knowing that the Crazy Cat Lady lived next door to her mom, Carol found my number and called me. I agreed to let her bring the kitten to my house so I could check her out and try to find a home for her.

When I saw this face, my heart melted. This photo was taken the day she arrived at my house. Try to find a home for her? Fuggetaboudit, she already found a home!

Karuna is a sweet, gorgeous long-haired dilute calico with the cutest facial markings I have seen. She's a bit plump, according to Dr. Duel, but not fat. Her big plume of a tail is carried straight up, with the top half flopping from side to side in a constant wave.

Just like Maria in West Side Story, Karuna immediately fell in love with Reese, the bad boy of my brood. She follows him everywhere and constantly head-butts him for attention and kisses. This is amazing to see, because Reese pretty much terrorizes all of the other cats, and they all hate him, but Karuna gets kisses on the top of her head. He has even taught her to scratch on the dining room chairs, just like he does. They can usually be found together, as they are in this picture.

Karuna will be two years old this summer and is still the youngest in the family. She is an amazing, sweet, beautiful girl.

Timmy

2009-03-20T16:17:00.000-07:00

Here is my 14-year-old thyroid patient, Timmy, in his favorite place - the kitchen. He almost never leaves the kitchen anymore. I wish he would come to bed with the rest of us and sleep in a nice, warm bed - but he prefers the floor beside the refrigerator or the wooden kitchen table. Sometimes he will sleep in that nice cuddly blue bed I bought him, but Sweet Pea seems to have taken that over.

Timmy has never in his life, to my knowledge, drank water from a bowl. Instead, he stands on the sink and stares at me until I turn the water on for his "dinky." I have probably let hundreds of dollars worth of water go down the drain because I forgot Timmy was having a dinky and walked away - sometimes for hours or even overnight before I come back and hear the water trickling. Ugh! I try to leave the light on over the sink as a reminder that the water's on, but it doesn't always work. Timmy doesn't even let the other cats drink out of the bowl - as soon as I fill the bowls up, he goes over and splashes all of the water out with his paws. This is such a huge problem that I keep water bowls in several places in the house so the other cats can have some water, poor things.

Timmy still takes 2 thyroid pills a day and is doing really well. He now wants to eat everything in sight, including pizza, cinnamon rolls, bread, cheese, etc. He is on a carb craze apparently. But that's okay because he was so skinny and now he's filling out again and his fur is shiny. Tonight he snorfed down the end of a piece of pizza I gave him. Every Saturday (don't ask me how he knows, maybe because I sleep late and make tea), he begs for milk until I give him some in a bowl. That he will drink from a bowl.

What towels?

2009-03-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

The other day Autumn accicentally (oops) got locked in the bathroom, so she made herself comfortable. This is how I found her, patiently waiting for me to come back.

Friends Awards

2009-03-04T13:42:00.001-08:00

I am honored! The beautiful Texas lass Suburbia Steph has given me the coveted "Friends Award"!

This award is given for the following reasons: “These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

I would like to share this award with some old friends and some new friends I have made through blogging: First of all, right back atcha to Steph! Also my friends from the Observer-Reporter in Washington, PA - Miss Bess, who always finds the coolest things and is the best shopper I know; Celeste Van Kirk, whose beautiful photographs can be found at Behind the Lens; editor Brant Newman, whose View on the News is always good for a laugh; Grumpy Old Editor Park Burroughs and his great stories (buy his book!); and Scott Beveridge, who always has an interesting story about the Mon Valley. Of course, I can't leave out a couple kitty blogs - we like Derby the Sassy Cat and China Cat's Blog.

Of course there are so many others; I wish I could mention them all here! Thanks to all of you for brightening my days with your stories!

Now ya'll go on and bestow 8 other of your bloggy friends!

Watch Out for the Quiet Ones

2009-02-22T14:28:00.000-08:00

Hayley is a beautiful long-haired tortie. She has black spots in one eye and gorgeous long ear tufts. She is the sister of Opal and Reese, and the daughter of Crystal. Crystal and her kittens were dropped off on the doorstep of the Washington Area Humane Society the night before I decided to foster a litter of kittens and their mom. Of course, I ended up keeping them, all except for China Cat Sunflower, who now lives with my daughter and her husband.

Hayley is extremely shy, totally unlike her gregarious sister and bully brother. She spends most of her time on the rocking chair in my library, or cuddled up on my bed with my teddy bear. She is huge and walks like a raccoon, with her back arched and kind of waddling from side to side. She doesn't purr (neither does Opal). All four of them - Crystal, Opal, Hayley and Reese - will carry toys around in their mouths and caterwaul at night in the dark. None of my other cats do this, so it must be genetic.

She doesn't mind being petted or brushed, but try to pick her up and she totally freaks out - legs flying in all directions. She won't bite or scratch, but you sure aren't going to get a hold on her.

Hayley has very long hair, and for a couple weeks now I've seen large mats hanging off of her "britches" on her back legs. They had to be painful for her, but every time I would try to get near her to work on them, she freaked. Then I realized the the mats were actually large globs of poop - yes, poop - that had gotten stuck in her britches. Ugh. So last Sunday I said, "We're going to do this or you're going to have to go to a groomer and get your butt shaved." Hayley just looked at me sullenly from her rocking chair.

I got my hair scissors and closed the library door behind me. It' a small room, so she didn't have many places to go. When she jumped up on the table, I pounced on her, turned her around so her head was butted into my stomach, held her down with one hand, and lifted her huge tail with the other. Oh crap - now I need a third hand to hold the glob and a fourth to work the scissors. FAIL.

Determined not to have to spend fifty precious dollars on a groomer, I went upstairs and got the biggest bath towel I could find. I have one of those nifty kitty straitjackets, but it's the small size and only fits Peek-A-Boo, who weighs only five pounds. I guess I need to get a large one.

Back with the bath towel, I locked us in the library again. When Hayley jumped up on the table, I threw the towel on top of her and wrapped her up like a giant burrito, turned her around and laid my upper body on top of her. Now I was able to lift the tail with one hand and work on the globs with the other. With her screaming the whole time, I managed to get the dang things out. What a mess!

As soon as I let her go, she waddled away like nothing happened.

I can has cheezburger?

2009-02-15T05:00:00.000-08:00

more animals

I love this site!! Signup for LOL Cats daily e-mail at http://icanhascheezburger.com and start your day off with a laugh.

A Wink From Olivia

2009-02-10T14:23:00.000-08:00

This is my girl Olivia, or Libby-Lu. I used to be on the Board of Director for the Washington Area Humane Society in Eighty Four, PA, which is a no-kill shelter. Olivia had been at the shelter for so long that she had become their unofficial mascot and was allowed to roam freely throughout the Cat Castle. Whenever we would have board meetings, Olivia would come into the room and sit next to my chair, and I would pick her up and hold her. I think she is at least part Angora because I have never felt a coat so soft. Olivia would purr so loud when I petted her, I just couldn't believe nobody wanted her. Her sister Sophia had already been adopted.

Olivia was born with one eye deformed - or, the eye had not developed fully - so a vet had removed the eye and sewed her lid shut. I grew to love her so much that I promised her that if she was still at the shelter when I moved into my new house, I would come and get her. As it happened, I adopted her the day after I moved, in September 2003. She was 2 years old at that time and just had her 8th birthday.

Olivia is very shy around my other cats. I've found having a lot of cats is like having a kindergarten class - some are bullies, some are shy, some are outgoing and friendly, etc. Olivia is terrified of my more aggressive cats, so she stays in the spare bedroom most of the time. When my beloved tuxedo cat, Boots, was sick, I had to quarantine him for the last couple years of his life (not because of contagious disease but because he had chronic diarrhea), and Libby became his companion cat. She kept him company and hung out with him on the day bed, and she never seemed to mind being cooped up in the spare bedroom. After Boots passed away, I opened the door to the room but she seemed to prefer to stay in there by herself. I know she misses Boots.

Olivia likes the little igloo bed, and sometimes will venture out to sleep with me under the covers. When she does this she purrs literally all night long. She is a very sweet girl and just incredibly soft. She absoluely LOVES belly rubs, which is pretty unusual for a cat. All I have to say is "Does Libby want a belly rub?" and she will roll over on her back and stretch her legs out in both directions so I can give her a good, brisk belly rub all the way from front legs to back legs.

Having one eye didn't deter Libby from exploring her new house - here she is walking along the top of my library door, which is about 2 inches wide.

My Little Steelers Fans!

2009-02-01T19:16:00.000-08:00

Woo hoo! Here's all my guys watching the Steelers kick some Cardinal butt!! Domino, Reese, Crystal, Pyewacket, Timmy and Holden - the rest don't like all my screaming and stayed upstairs. STEELERS ROCK!!!!!!!

She's a Pearl of a Girl

2009-01-31T12:43:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-20T15:27:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-17T17:29:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-14T16:38:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-01-09T16:16:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-09T15:21:00.001-08:00

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!

2009-01-06T15:07:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-01T09:11:00.000-08:00

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...

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T12:27:00.000-08:00

Crystal is ready to party! Or maybe she's already been in the 'nip...

Happy New Year to everyone, and let's hope 2009 is so good it makes us forget 2008!

Pyewacket, My Halloween Cat

2008-12-28T04:04:00.000-08:00

This is my beautiful boy, Pyewacket. He is truly a Halloween cat, and here's why.

Last year (2007) on Halloween night, while I was giving out candy, my neighbor Cathy came over and asked me if I had seen a big black cat that had been running around the neighborhood for a couple weeks. She thought he had been dropped off by someone, and being a cat lover like I am, she was worried about him. We live on a busy street that runs alongside a major road. I hadn't seen him, but told her I would keep an eye out for him.

A little while later I heard something in the hydrangea bush next to my front porch. I turned, and there he was - the biggest black cat I had ever seen, with these amazing orange eyes - but he took off when I saw him. He was probably right there in the hydrangea when Cathy was asking me about him. After that, I was very worried about him, it being Halloween and all, so I put some food out on the kitchen porch before getting ready to go to my friend's Halloween party - dressed as a black cat, no less.

I got home from the party literally at the stroke of midnight. I went to open my basement door, and the cat came around the side of the house, scaring the bejabbers out of me. I said "Hi there!" and he just stood there. It was like he was saying, "Well, what are you waiting for? Here I am!" I scooped him up and brought him into the house. Then I fixed up the old coal cellar for him, giving him food and water bowls, blankets, and a litterbox. He stayed there for a couple days until I got him to the vet for a checkup.

I had to find a "Halloween-y" name for him, but I didn't like all the typical ones. I loved the movie Bell, Book, and Candle, so I named him Pyewacket after Gillian's cat.

Pyewacket is as nice as he is gorgeous, and he makes sure I remember to fill "his" special dish, the one he had in the coal cellar, every day by running in front of me down the stairs and leading me to it, then glaring at me. He is a wonderful addition to my menagerie.

Update on Timmy

2008-12-27T16:42:00.000-08:00

Timmy is still doing well on his thyroid medicine, although he hasn't gained any weight back. He is still very thin, but he takes his pills and is eating and drinking normally. He hates the pills, but it seems like he knows he needs them so he doesn't give me much trouble about them. At his last vet check, his thyroid levels were much better than before he started on the meds. He likes to sleep on the little table in the corner of the kitchen on top of a pile of old catalogs.

One Happy Cat

2008-12-20T14:44:00.000-08:00

Drugstore.com rocks! The box of Skin Milk arrived in two days, right in the middle of Christmas shipping season! Autumn is a happy girl!

No, my cats aren't spoiled...much!

2008-12-16T13:51:00.001-08:00

So, Autumn likes to hang out in the bathroom with me while I take my shower in the morning. She plays monorail cat on the side of the tub and licks my face as I'm testing the water temperature.

After my shower, I put body cream on my legs. Lately I've been using one called Skin Milk, which has actual milk in it and smells like milk. Autumn has gotten into the very weird habit of licking the Skin Milk off my legs and is now so demanding (actually, she's always been very bossy) that as soon as I step out of the shower she is standing there going "Meow! Meow! Meow!" and she glares at me until I put the cream on my legs so she can lick it off. I know - who's weirder, me or her? It's a tossup.

I'm almost out of Skin Milk, and grocery day is not until this weekend, so I ran up to the local drugstore to see if they had it. They didn't. So I went to the drugstore by my office at lunchtime yesterday. They didn't have it either. Then, like an idiot, I drove 15 miles to Wal-Mart just to get Skin Milk for a CAT! They don't carry it anymore!! Just my luck. But I ran into a girlfriend in the parking lot and we went and had a couple beers, so it wasn't a totally wasted trip. :-)

I did find Skin Milk on Drugstore.com and bought four jars of it (free shipping for orders over $25), plus I got Upromise credit towards my student loans for my purchase. Yay! So that should last a while and keep Autumn happy. In the meantime, since I only have a teensy bit left, I am only putting Skin Milk on one leg and Eucerin on the other so she can still have some to lick off every day until the new shipment arrives.

You've Come a Long Way, Baby

2008-12-06T12:52:00.000-08:00

Meet little Peek-A-Boo, a dilute calico Manx, mama of the beauty queen Pearl. Peek-A-Boo began life as a feral kitten who lived on a farm where they raised bobwhite quail. The farmer, a friend of my ex-husband's, was going to shoot the kitten because she was eating his birds. My ex, also a cat lover, and I already had quite a few cats, but he told his friend to bring the kitten to work. I worked across the street from him at a company that cleaned the sewers. The shop manager was also an animal lover, and he agreed that we needed a "shop cat." When Rick carried the cage with the kitten into the shop, she was literally hanging upside-down from the top of the cage, screaming at the top of her lungs. We put her in the parts room and made up a nice bed, litter box, food and water bowls, etc.

No one saw her for the first three months, but we knew she was there. She lived in the ceiling of the room but came down at night to eat and use the litter box. Soon she ventured out and walked around on the steel beam that went around the top of the metal building, watching the mechanics work on the trucks.

Still nameless, the little kitten was so filthy from being in the shop that she looked like a smoke-grey kitty! But she wouldn't let anyone get near her. Eventually, she started hanging over the loft above the office area and watching the men eat their lunches, and they started throwing little scraps up to her. This is where she got her name, Peek-A-Boo. She seemed to like one of the guys, Brian. After a few weeks he was able to get up on a ladder and actually pet her through the loft railings. I brought in a peacock feather and got up on the ladder and played with her, but still no one could get near her except on the ladder.

Then Peek-A-Boo went outside on the first warm February day, and guess what? She turned up preggers. This seemed to calm her wild spirit down a bit. She was so dirty and matted by this time, I brought in a slicker brush and climbed up on the ladder. She LOVED the slicker brush! After a couple weeks, I had all the mats out of her and you could actually tell she was a calico cat.

One Monday in April we came in to work to find Peekie skinny. Uh-oh, there are kittens somewhere! All work stopped for the next three days (when the boss wasn't looking) while everyone searched for the babies. We looked everywhere! Finally Jim, the shop manager, opened a room that was kept locked and we heard their little mews, very faintly. Jim reached into a large box of truck parts with me, Lisa and Karen right behind him, and out jumped Peek-A-Boo! Jim jumped back into me, and we almost fell like dominoes. In the box were five very tiny kittens. Jim took them out on by one and laid them on my hand. All five of them fit across my hand. Sadly, a little orange striped Manx was dead, but there was a calico Manx, a tortie Manx, a black & white tuxedo Manx, and a tortie with a full tail.

We made up a nice cozy box for Peekie to raise her kitties in, but she would have none of it. Every night she would move them to a different place in the shop. Fearing for their safety, I finally packed all of them up and took them home. Peekie was spayed, and the kittens were all adopted except for Peekie and Pearl, who still live with me. My daughter adopted little Norton, the tuxedo, and two of my co-workers took Casey and Lucy.

Peek-A-Boo weighs only five pounds, still loves her red slicker brush, and has never once shown a desire to go outside since she moved in with us. She knows she has the good life now!

Domino, the Cat Saved by Apple Cider Vinegar

2008-11-29T10:38:00.000-08:00

One night 8 years ago as my daughter and I were driving home from my fiance's house, I suddenly saw two tiny faces next to a mailbox post - one all white and one black and white. I said to Mandy, "Did you see that?" and stopped the car. The two kittens ran off into the bramble, and Mandy and I in our shorts and sandals were no match for the thorn bushes and could not find them in the dark. In tears, we got back into the car. "Don't worry, honey, I'll stop on my way to work tomorrow and try to find them," I said. The next morning, I stopped, and found that there were actually three white kittens and on black & white tuxedo kitten. They ran fast and kept going into a culvert underneath the road where I couldn't catch them. At lunchtime, I got one of the guys at work to go back with me. The white kittens were still too fast, but the little tuxedo was lagging behind and I caught him. For my trouble, he bit my finger and I had to go get a tetanus shot. I took him back to the office where the other girls fed him tuna from a can. I kept trying to catch the white kittens and finally told another lady at PetsMart about them and she and her husband went to get them. I never saw them again after that so I hope they caught them all.

Domino was only four weeks old - too young to be taken from his mama - so I bottle-fed him for a couple weeks. I was getting married in a month, so he actually attended the wedding and the honeymoon, which was at my ex-husband's cottage in Deep Creek, MD. The above photo was taken on our honeymoon. I think if it weren't for him and his antics, we would have been bored to death because it was freezing that week in July 2000.

As a result of the bottle feeding, Domino became a suckler. He would get under the covers with me and snuggle into my arms, and suckle on the inside of my elbow. He is now 8 years old and still does this from time to time. He is still my "little kittles."

When Dommie was about 5 years old, he developed a bald spot on his shoulder. I thought it was from the Fontline I used on him. But then he started to develop bald spots all over and eventually lot almost all of his hair. In the meantime, he was also losing weight. The vet ran tests and told me he had Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP), which is a deadly and unfortunately, highly contagious, disease. He said Domino would live maybe a couple months at best.

I was devastated, not only for Domino, who is my baby, but for my other 13 cats who had now been exposed to this horrible disease. I cried for two weeks. Of course, I quarantined Dommie in my "sick room" which is my spare bedroom. Every day I would go in and sit with him for a couple hours and hold him while reading a book, or just rock him in the rocking chair. I cried and cried. The vet told me to give him subcutaneous fluids and keep his water freshened a couple times a day. The fluids were a joke. I had four people trying to hold down this 6-pound cat so I could get a needle in him, and he would have none of it. It was impossible. I just figured I would make him as comfortable as possible.

One day I was in his room eating a banana popsicle, and Domino started licking the other side. He loved it and ate almost the whole thing! After that I took him banana popsicles every day.

One day I was researching his disease on the Internet, and I ran across an article about someone who had given their cat apple cider vinegar to help with kidney failure, which was one of the symptoms of FIP. What can it hurt, I thought. I started putting a dropperful of apple cider vinegar into Dommie's water bowl every time I changed it. Within a couple weeks, I noticed his hair growing back in. Then I noticed he was putting on weight. I kept up with the vinegar therapy, and after a month or two, Domino was back to his normal weight and looked fantastic. Jubilant, I let him out of the sick room. Boy, was his girlfriend Peek-A-Boo glad to see him.

That was three years ago, and Domino is still doing fine. The only symptom he has is that his third eyelids are always a little bit up, which is a sign of illness in cats, and one eye has a chronic redness problem which I give him eye salve for. But absolutely no sign of kidney failure or FIP, and none of the other cats have gotten sick.

Do I believe in apple cider vinegar? You bet I do! It saved Domino's life.

Timmy Mau

2008-11-24T16:18:00.000-08:00

This is Timmy, the oldest of my 15 cats. Timmy is 13 and was recently diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, which, I've learned, is not uncommon in senior cats. The good news is, it's easy to treat with medication. Timmy's been on his meds for about a month now and has already started putting weight back on. He used to weigh about 13 pounds and was down to 8 pounds, but I can't see his ribs anymore so that's a good thing.

At first I thought the weight loss was just a natural result of aging, but it didn't make sense. Timmy was eating as much as ever and spitting up a lot, and he was more vocal than usual. Mau! Mau! Mau! all the time. Dr. Duel recognized the symptoms right away and tested him for thyroid. Thank goodness it was not something worse.

Timmy has been with me since he was about 10 months old. My daughter found him roaming the neighborhood and knew her friend had lost his brown tabby kitten, so she brought him and and called her friend Chris, who came over and said "that's not my cat." So we put a found ad in the paper and asked all the neighbors, to no avail.

When Timmy was younger and spryer (is that a word?), he used to leap from the kitchen counter onto your shoulders and ride around like that. He never used his claws but managed to have a perfect landing and hold on every time. Now he just hangs out in the kitchen, sleeping on the butcher block table or the metal cabinet where I keep the cat food. He sleeps a lot. But he has no problem jumping up, even at his advanced age.

Another quirk of Timmy's is that he has NEVER drunk water from a bowl--it has to come fresh from a faucet. He just sits in the sink and stares at me until I get up and turn the water on to the proper trickle for him. Talk about spoiled! I don't even want to think about how much money has literally gone down the drain because I turned the water on for Timmy's "dinky" and forgot about it until hours later when I came back into the room.

Timmy is still as beautiful as ever, though his eyes are a little glazed and I'm not sure he can see too well anymore. He goes back for a thyroid checkup in a couple weeks, and the vet will decide if we need to adjust his meds. But I'm happy he is doing so well.

It's a 7 Cat Night

2008-11-19T17:24:00.000-08:00

It suddenly turned cold in Western Pennsylvania. So cold that all of the cats have decided they need to suck body heat from their mama. I'm not sure why they want to do this, because my bedroom happens to be the coldest room in this 82-year-old house. They could easily sleep in a warmer room. But they don't. Or maybe they're very generously sharing their body heat with poor me.

Good thing I'm not a large person, because as you can see, it's not a large bed; and on a cold night, there will be up to nine little furry bodies smooshed up against every part of me. One on my pillow wrapped around my head, two on either side of me, one curled up behind my knees, one on my feet, and always, little Domino under the covers with my arm around him and his head on my shoulder. No kidding. While I'm reading my book, he climbs up to the spot and stares at me until I lift the covers up for him, then he scooches his little butt down underneath and stretches his two front legs across my shoulder.

I found Domino by the side of the road where someone had abandoned him at 4 weeks of age. Too young to be taken from his mama. I bottle-fed him for a couple weeks, holding him in my arm like a baby. He is now 8 years old and still suckles on the inside of my elbow from time to time. He's such a baby. He will stay there under the covers all night, or at least until I have to get up to pee.

That in itself is a major undertaking. It's 3 a.m. and I'm going, "excuse me, I need to get up, can you move please?" Of course it annoys them immensely and I apologize for disturbing their sleep. But they sure do keep me warm.

Opal, the Tomboy Cat

2008-11-16T15:11:00.000-08:00

Hello! This is my first post, so please bear with me. As I write, my little Opal is outside the door of my office begging. She has the sweetest little trill that ends with "me" when she wants something.

I have 15 cats, and they aren't allowed in my office. It's the only "no kitty zone" in my house. I'm a writer and copyeditor, so there is a lot of stuff in here. Too many things to get into, pee on, puke on, well, you get the idea.

But Opie is such a good girl, and she simply adores the basket in the corner next to the peacock feathers. All she wants to do is come in here so she can get in that basket and go to sleep. She doesn't even bother the peacock feathers. My other cats would rip them to shreds. And the basket is the perfect size and shape for little Opie.

Opal is a real tomboy--hence the nickname Opie. She earned the nicknames "Opal Knievel" and "The Flying Wallenda" after jumping from the top of the entertainment center onto the ceiling fan, riding it once around the living room and then sailing over the top of the kitchen cabinets into the kitchen. The fan blade was permanently bent and it never ran right after that, but it was worth it.

Opal and her mama Crystal will chase each other all over the house like kittens. Opal is 7 and I have no idea how old Crystal is. I went to the Humane Society one day looking to foster a mama and litter of kittens, and Cryssie had just been left on the doorstep the night before with four newborn babies. I took them home, and they never went back. My daughter took one male, a short-haired ginger tabby (China), and I adopted the other three kittens--Opal, Reese and Hayley--and Crystal.

Of all my cats, Opal has the sweetest personality. Her brother Reese is a thug, and sister Hayley is the quietest of all of them. Opal hates Reese, though. He is a bully, and every time he walks past her, she hisses, even if he's not even looking at her. They're just like human brothers and sisters.