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!
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."
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.
