Perhaps you've gotten the idea I love cats. Probably the bio with the cat on top and below the bio where it says I do cat rescue got you to think that. I love all animals but especially cats. Maybe it's the mystery and folklore of a familiar or maybe I'm attracted to their personalities. Ever since I was a kid, I have stopped in the street to pet strays and on hundreds of occasions, have gone hunting to bring a hungry cat back food. I've actually had more than ten kitties gathered around me at one time in the street, even while traveling in Europe.
As a teenager, I had the habit of staying out late. While walking home I'd always run into cats. That was how I convinced my father to let me keep my first cat. She had followed me home for several blocks. My father loved her. She'd jump on the ironing board and eat from a spoon right out of his hand. That was back in the days. I wasn't educated enough to know about neutering plus I was a kid with no money. My parents had never had an animal until Snoopy followed me home and my father fell for her.
Now when I rescue a cat, the first thing I do, unless they're only big enough to fit in my hand, is lock them in my 2" by 4" bathroom and get them tested for feline aids and leukemia and then get them neutered.
By then, they've been in my household at least a week, locked up with food, water, toys, a few portions of daily love and a little rugged stump. Usually by then, they're ready to meet my kitties. My household keeps changing. I've had as much as eight cats and kitties at one time. How this happened is kind of a long story.
My beloved Starlight passed away on All Saints Day, 2002. I was inconsolable and cried everyday for over a month. Starlight was a real angel and she made it to 20 years old. She slept nestled in my arms nightly or beside me, either up by my head or by my chest. She kissed me when I would ask her too. I'd say, "Starlight, can I have a kiss?" and she'd proceed to lick my lips. She was my baby.
Occasionally, during Starlight's reign I'd take in some poor waif. Baby kitties she had no problem with but she definitely didn't like grown females. They'd stay in another room until they found a home. One time I found a maine coon and twice I found snowshoes. This seemed amazing to me that even bred cats were in the street. I finally realized that people like cats when they're babies, but when the females go into heat and the males spray, they just throw them out.
My husband, Cye, found Thor, the snowshoe kitty, at the local Humane Society. Cye wanted Thor because he was so cute and purred very loudly. He had been picked up by a trapper who does trap neuter and release. The Humane Society offers free neutering for strays on certain days. When the folks at the Humane Society saw how pretty Thor was, they told the trapper they would keep him and put him up for adoption. Thor was about three and a half months at this time. They named him Thor because he was bopping all the other kitties on their heads when they let them out to play loose.
Cye wanted Thor because he figured that would bring me out of my slump and he knows how much I like Siamese cats, but Thor preferred to stay in hiding most of the time due to his feral nature. Since my bed is low he liked laying beneath there. Then when it was very quiet, he'd come out and get friendly and all kissy, especially when he was hungry but you'd have to lie real still. Then he'd come and lay in your arms and kiss your face for about ten minutes. Otherwise than that he stayed in hiding except when he was busy digging in the dirt and making foot high piles of dirt on my floor or rug. I was suffering too much from my loss to accept another so soon; kind of like being married and losing your spouse or even worse, your child. Would you want to immediately hook up and get married again or get pregnant right away if your child died?
To make matters worse it turned out that Thor didn't make a good fit well with my personality. As a plant person, I have several very deep planters with huge plants and Thor proceeded to destroy them. He would get in the pot, and kick and kick until the earth was piled a foot deep on the floor. I tried everything, even building a fence around it with wire. That didn't stop him; it just challenged him for about a minute. He finally figured out that he could climb onto something very high and just parachute into the plant. He didn't care if he scratched himself or not. Thor wanted to dig in that dirt!
I loved him and didn't know what to do. At that time, I had a few rescue kittys here at home. Then I got lucky and got a call from a lady (a retired nurse) asking if I had a Siamese kitty since hers had passed. Of course, since she was not a big plant person they made a very good match. She called him Lover Boy because of his kissy nature. I've kept in touch with her for over three years and I'm sure I'd still be welcome today if I called and wanted to visit again. Her mother also adopted a pure black cat from me.
I've spent literally thousands of dollars on cats that I've found. More often than not, they're healthy except for parasites and various cuts and lesions from street fights that they need medical care for. Any cat that approaches me in the street for help, I try to take (unless I've got a plane ticket the next day). I've found at least half dozen infants that I've bottle fed. They're really hard to give away - but if I kept all the cats that have passed through - I'd have over 30 cats right now.
Adult cats are so grateful to be taken in - they are usually super affectionate afterwards and follow me around like they're afraid to lose sight of me. They don't even seem to notice that they've been neutered. One good-natured 8 month old orange fellow freaked when I tried to show him to the neighbor who was considering an adoption. I got him to the hallway and he leaped from my arms and bounded in a flying leap up against my door hitting the closed door above where the peep hole was. I was amazed when I saw that. Orange was terrified. He didn't even like to go near the door at all. I had to keep him about half a year for him to cozy up to strangers.
I even took in an abused cat who was very mean. He is pictured 9th picture down from the top. My husband still has the scars from him, but even he eventually calmed down (the cat not my husband). My husband still displays his war wounds with pride! Afterwards, this beautiful cat who we called Meany, chose his own owners. Meany knew who he wanted to go with and I didn't even know he was ready to be adopted. A couple came over to adopt another cat and Meany just climbed in their laps. They ended up adopting both cats. Ironically the couple both had red hair and they adopted two red haired animals.
The point is no one knows what these poor abandoned creatures have gone through. I don't, I can only imagine and that alone makes me want to continue helping them. So I take them in, get them medical care, and then find them homes.
