Merry Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS

AND 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2016 has been a year of new pets and new friends.  We can't wait to see and share with you more about our adventures in 2017.

A Season of Thankfulness--Cat Edition

     It's November.  Today is actually Thanksgiving!  Every year when November 1st arrives, I start hearing and seeing talk of thankfulness.  "What are you thankful for?"  On facebook, there is a challenge to write a post every day about one thing you are thankful for.  This is great!  We should always be looking for what we are thankful for and acknowledging God for his gifts.  Life can get so busy that we forget to do so.  So when November arrives, it is nice to be reminded to look around and realize how precious our lives are.
     For the purpose of this cat blog, I would like to say that I am thankful for the kitten we added to our family this year. I have already mentioned him in a previous post entitled Sliding Cat. He is Stan Lee.  He is now 7 months old and while he started out crazy and wild, he has already settled down quite a bit.  We suspected that he was grieving over our dog that passed away at the end of September.  He is still quite subdued as we have added a puppy to our zany zoo of a household.  I don't know what is going through that cat's mind as the puppy tries to spar with him and he just lays down in front of him.  Our last dog didn't act that way.  She just lay there as Stan cuddled up to her.  Stan tries to cuddle with the pup, but the pup bites him.  Stan is coming around, though.  He bites back!  And sometimes when the puppy gets too riled up and I step in to make him stop, Stan instigates another battle.  
     As you can guess, there is never a dull moment around here.  I am thankful for that, too.  Have a Happy Thanksgiving and remember to be thankful every day of the year.

(This was written by my daughter, Karen.)

Po

     She was the ugliest kitten at the animal shelter.  We had gone to the shelter to look at puppies for my husband while he was at work.  I didn't like puppies.  I was looking at the cats and kittens.  We already had two grown cats at home, but I couldn't resist.  I was there with my 2 year old son, Andrew.  We saw the ugliest kitten we had ever seen.  She was a scrawny, short-haired, tortoise-shelled kitten.  Her colors of black, white, gray, and orange were so mixed together, she wasn't a pretty animal at all.  I felt so sorry for her because I just KNEW no one would ever take her home. No one would ever take her home, except for us.
     Her name at the shelter was Simone.  I told Andrew her name and he tried to say it.  He said, "Po." and since I didn't like the name Simone anyway, I encouraged him to keep calling her that and so she became Po.  The first night that we had her, she came to me in my bed to snuggle, but I ran her off because that was one of my other cat's spot.  I felt bad about it, but I couldn't very well let the new kitten take what belonged to my older girl.  Po found someone else to snuggle with.  She went to Andrew, who gladly welcomed her.  Po never came to me again.  In fact, she formed such a bond with Andrew that she didn't care for anyone else in the house.  We had two more children, but Po was Andrew's.  She slept with him every night and during the day, she usually slept in his bed some more.
     She really developed an attitude. I said she was hateful.  She would get grouchy and bite me. She went outside frequently and hunted.  If any of the family called to her or petted her, she mostly tolerated it, but it was Andrew that she adored.  She would purr loudly and butt her head up against his.  She would nip him and he would laugh.  We homeschooled our children, so he was able to spend lots of time doing his schoolwork with her by his side.
     I guess that is why it was so devastating when she suddenly lost a lot of weight and began to eat cat litter.  We took her to the vet and they said it was her liver.  They tried everything, but she just didn't make it. My husband and I made the painful decision to have her put down before Andrew saw her get any worse. She was 12 1/2 years old.  Andrew was 14.  Andrew didn't take it well.  He cried and cried and cried.  He refused to choose a spot in the yard to bury her. He refused to walk out to the spot and see where she was buried for months.  I took it pretty hard.  I had tried to do what I could and had a hefty vet bill.  It was difficult to see my son suffer so much.  We all took it hard, even though none of us but Andrew really liked her.  It was so sad.
     We survived it, though.  We have suffered pet losses before and we will suffer them again.  You have to ask yourself if it is worth it.  Is it worth the pain of the loss?  I don't know how to answer that. Some people say no and refuse to have another.  I can't do that.  I want to do that, but I can't imagine living without my feline companions.  I hope that Andrew still thinks it is worth it.  But only time will tell.

(This was written by my daughter, Karen.)

Sliding Cat

     My new cat, Stan Lee, likes to go down the slide!  Okay, I don't know if it is completely true that he LIKES it, but he does go down the slide.  I've never seen a cat go down a slide before.
     We got Stan Lee as a kitten in June.  He was ten weeks old when we got him.  At five months old now, he is already neutered and accepted by the other pets.  He has a personality like no cat I have ever had before.  He's crazy.  He is bold.  One can have many cats over their lifetime, but each and every one has its own distinct personality.
     So, a few days ago, I walked out into the backyard with my son.  The cats and dog followed along as usual.  The kids have a tree fort out there and it is a nice shady area to go during the day.  That's why my son and I went out there.  Stan Lee sat directly under the front of the tree fort.  I mentioned to my son that I had put Stan Lee up into the tree fort a few weeks back and he had come down the slide.  It was pretty funny.  I figured it was a fluke.  I figured that once the cat knew how the slide worked, he would steer clear of going down it again.  My son scooped up the kitty and set him in the tree house.  He was about six feet up, by the way,
     Stan Lee nonchalantly walked over to the slide, sat with his paws in front of him, and scooted down the slide.  It was funny because he kind of used his front paws spread out in a way that made him go down slower than ordinary.  He got to the bottom, jumped off, and rubbed himself against the dog.  Now, our other cats would have just jumped down to the ground.  That's what they do.  Not Stan.  He doesn't seem to be much of a jumper.
     Immediately, my son scooped up Stan Lee and set him right back up in the tree fort.  Stan meowed at us and walked around.  Then he went to the slide, placed himself in the same position as before, and slid down the slide.  When he reached the bottom, he swatted at a leaf and ran back up the slide about two feet and slid back down again.  He never showed any fear or alarm about sliding.  What do you think we said?  "Man, we have GOT to get this on video."
     Stan got off of the slide, but turned immediately and ran back up it about two feet and slid back down.  Silly cat.
     We left him alone to play for awhile, but the temptation became too great for me.  The last time, I was the one to scoop him up and put him back up into the tree fort. Stan did not disappoint us.  He took his time, of course.  He is a cat.  He wanted us to see who was really in charge.  He came down the slide again.  He seemed to enjoy it.  And my son did capture it on video on his IPOD.  As soon as I can get it from him, I will see about putting it on the blog.

(This was written by my daughter, Karen)

Parker in the Park (revisited 2016)

     On Friday, July 27, 2012, a story was submitted on the blog.  It was entitled, "Parker in the Park."  I now have an update to that story.  The life expectancy of a stray cat is usually between 2 to 5 years.  My son was delighted to come to me the other day to tell me that Parker is still alive.  With our love of cats being so strong, I could understand his excitement.  I would have felt the same way if I had seen her with my own eyes.
     I encourage you to go back and reread the original post.  A cat deserves a long life just as much as any other of God's creatures.  Parker has found a safe place in which to live.  The first article was published over four years ago.  It was told by a golfer that she had been spayed.  I think she has outlived her life expectancy as a stray.  Or, if not, it's close.
     On a disc golf course away from the hectic life that man has created for himself, Parker found her home.  A disc golf course where caring golfers feed her and call her their mascot.  She's a stray that once got caught and spayed and released back onto the course.  She's wild and allowed to run the course in the woods.  No human hands ever make the attempt to catch her.  She would probably scratch them severely if one tried.  And as far as wild animals that live there also, she just blends in.  A happy little cat that goes merrily on her way living each day in complete harmony.  What a wonderful thought!
     My son had left that morning earlier than usual for work.  He chose to simply drive through the park to kill time before getting to work.  At the disc course sitting on a nearby picnic table, he saw Parker.  He figured she waited there for her morning food from a golfer.  He smiled as he drove the car around the turn around in front of the table.
     I am happy to be able to say that Parker lives on.

Hidden

     Early in our marriage, my husband and I were part of a group of couples that got together for a weekly Bible study at each other's houses.  When it was our turn to host, I would spend the day cleaning and preparing the night's meal.
     It was our week and I had worked all afternoon to prepare.  Right before the guests began to arrive, I heard a scratch at the door.  I knew it was one of our two cats.  Boo-Boo and Marble were indoor/outdoor cats and came and went.  I opened the door and Boo-Boo and Marble both ran inside. Boo-Boo immediately dropped something as she came inside.  It was a mouse...and it was still alive!  It ran directly to the couch and underneath it.  The cats followed in hot pursuit, but they were not fast enough.
     My husband had come to the door at the same time I did, and he saw the whole incident unfold. We heard a car pull up outside. I looked up at him.
     "What do we do??"
     He calmly replied, "We don't tell our guests."
     Our guests came in and we greeted them.  More guests arrived.  The evening proceeded as usual, with the guests commenting on the good food.  Everyone participated in the Bible study.  Some of our friends commented on how friendly our feline family members were this time.  The cats were hanging out right there with us.  Normally, they would avoid the crowd.  Three hours flew by and all of the guests said goodbye.  We walked the last guests to the door and closed it behind them.
     My husband and I turned to look at the couch that some of our company had sat on.  We exhaled in the quiet living room.  Almost instantly in that moment, the little mouse darted out from underneath the couch and Boo-Boo swiped it with her paw.  She killed it and Marble was right there with her.  Such an abrupt ending to our anxious night.  The entire time our company had been there, we had worried about that mouse making an appearance and startling them.  I don't think we ever told any of our friends about what had been hidden so close to them the entire time!

Since Starting the Cat Blog...

     Since starting the Cat Blog, "My Life with Cats," there have been 83 stories and related sections added to it since 2012!  Please take this time to reminisce with us the postings from 2012 all the way to the present.  We will be taking this month of June off from writing, but will return with a new cat story in July!  Thank you for your continued support.

Warm Milk

     It was morning and evening that Blackie, the cow, was milked.  She furnished all the milk we needed to drink.  Some of the milk was left to sour.  The cream was used to churn butter.  Oh, what a simple life it was...being raised on a farm.  The things I got there have since changed to being bought at a grocery store, because I now live in the city.
     But my story doesn't end there.  Not only did the cow's milk feed my family; it managed to feed another family as well.
     Up in the hay loft in that same stable was a mother cat and her four kittens.  The kittens were being nursed by their mother.  The mother cat gave them her milk.  The mother cat fed on mice and other small prey in order to keep up her health and milk production for her babies.  Suprisingly, she also got milk into her diet also.
     As my mother milked Blackie to get milk for our family, the mother cat wanted Blackie's milk, too.  The cat would stand up on her back legs while my mother would spurt milk from Blackie's udder toward her.  When the cat got her fill, she would jump up into the hay loft to her kittens.
     This became a routine.  The cat was not exactly a pet.  She lived in the hay loft as a stray.  But she still came close enough to allow my mother to feed her Blackie's milk.
     I still laugh today as I remember the picture in my mind of a cat standing up on her hind legs to get fresh warm milk.

An Act of Compassion

     It is the chain of life.  All creatures on earth seem to have its predator.  I did something as an act of compassion.  Yet, I still wonder if I had done the right thing that day.  As a cat lover, what do you think you would have done?

AN ACT OF COMPASSION

Beneath my feet upon the ground,

There came a chirping sound,

A feathery creature with mouth open wide,

Standing ever so close by my side.

Bending over, my hands reached out, 

Trying to rescue it, no doubt,

I wanted to care for its injuries and feed,

But off rather quickly it did so speed.

A cat on all fours in slump,

Out of his place of hiding he did jump, 

After toying with his prey as if a game,

In hot pursuit of him he now came.

It a speeding bird unable for me to catch,

The cat I caught since for me no match,

Lifting him in my arms I held him tight,

Questioning if what I was doing was even right.

I had helped a bird from his predator get away,

It appeared him now safe and okay,

As my emotional feeling had become one of cold,

I did so continue that cat to hold.

It's my compassion that had stopped that act,

The love for a helpless creature that made me react,

Though it's an animal's instinct to kill its prey,

I had just prevented that cat from getting his way.

A Cat's Worth

     I had a friend several years ago whose husband did not like cats.  He wouldn't allow my friend, Lisa, or her children to get cats for pets.  He was ok with dogs, but he clearly DID NOT LIKE CATS. It was a real point of contention with me.  It really bothered me.  I liked the man (we'll call him Bud), but I just can't comprehend why someone wouldn't like one of the sweetest, gentlest creatures in God's creation.
     I was surprised one day, when my friend called me to say that Bud had consented and let her get two kittens.  Two OUTDOOR kittens, of course. A male and a female--brother and sister. They lived on a little piece of property out in the country and Bud had decided it might be a good idea to have the cats to keep the critters at bay.  After about 6 months, I spoke with Bud and Lisa about the cats. They were down to only one cat, Lisa sadly reported to me.  The female was a valuable hunter.  The male had been lazy and hunted nothing.  Bud had kept the female, but the male had been sent somewhere else to live.  He had not "proven his worth," and had suffered the consequences.
     That was a long time ago.  I still think about that.  A cat was only valuable to Bud if it killed things.  Otherwise, it was worthless.  No, Bud still isn't a cat lover.  He never came around. This is not a story of his transformation.
      I used to think about his view of a valuable cat when I had my cat, Billy Bob.  Billy Bob would come across our backyard from the woods, sometimes twice a day carrying a little mole in his mouth.  The neighbor would be out in her backyard gardening and see Billy Bob and comment on what a good hunter he was.  I would tell Billy Bob he was "proving his worth." We have had many cats over the years whom I have loved.  Some hunted.  Some did not.  I loved them all.  One day, Billy Bob was getting up in years and he had an abcessed tooth.  I had to take him to the vet to get it removed. He never hunted again.  He spent his last 3 years mostly indoors, but I would tell him all the time that it was ok.  He had "proven his worth," and now he could rest. Billy Bob passed away in December 2015.
     Now we have three cats.  We have Goldie, who is 8.  She used to hunt some, but now she is very fat and stays close to the house.  We have Alice, who is a princess and is afraid of mice.  And we have Nibby.  I have written about Nibby before.  He brought us 9 snakes last year. The snakes were still alive, but  he kills other things ALL THE TIME.  On Christmas Eve this past year, when it was an astonishing 75 degrees in East Tennesse, he laid a mouse on the windowsill for me.  Merry Christmas.
     Yesterday, I walked outside and counted four little brown creatures littered across the driveway. Mouse or mole carcasses.  Oh, yeah, there was one bird, too. I got a shovel and proceeded to pick them up and remove them.  Nibby followed me meowing his head off.  I guess I wasn't supposed to move them. I put them back down in one neat pile far from the house. Nibby doesn't just leave these surprises for me.  He occasionally litters the next door neighbor's yard with his kills, too.
     I apologize if this story is too graphic for some.  I am only trying to show that if a cat's worth is measured by his/her ability to kill, then Nibby is worth his weight in gold.  Actually, he is worth more than his weight in gold.  And yes, I tell him so.  I tell him often that he has proven his worth.

(This was written by my daughter, Karen)

Restore My Faith

     I just want to share a little something with you all.  It's been a few months since this happened.  My family and I went to visit some extended family in Virginia.  We also had our dog with us.  We stopped at a gas station in Abingdon, VA to fill up, get snacks, and walk the dog for her potty break.  My husband took the dog while I took the kids inside the store. He joined us inside the store several long minutes later.  We were in there a long time because, ok, we were all taking a potty break too. We got our snacks and got into line together.  My husband smiled at the workers behind the counter and said, "So are you guys the ones who built the little cat house out behind the dumpster? I was walking our dog and came up on it.  My dog scared the cat, but I walked her away from there as soon as I saw it."
     They smiled back at him and said, "Oh yes.  We did that.  Someone abandoned a cat out there and we have been feeding him.  He won't come close to us, but he eats the food.  It's been raining so much, we wanted to build him some sort of shelter."
     My husband said, "It looks like a good shelter."  They exchanged other pleasantries, we paid, and left.  He said to me and the kids, "I will show you what we were talking about."  Sure enough, there was a little shelter that the employees of the gas station had built.  The cat was startled by us and ran into the little brushy area behind the cat house.  I took photos so that I could share on this blog.

     In the bottom picture, I tried to capture the cat. In the center I think you can just barely make out his white face outlined with surrounding black fur, but you have to look really hard. He was afraid.  I think it was really sweet of those folks to do that for him.  Little instances like that sort of restore my faith in humanity...doesn't it for you?

(This was written by my daughter, Karen)

A Taste Change

     When growing up, my siblings and I were really never cat lovers.  We were more dog lovers.  The dog gained our love and attention.  He was more apt to do things with us on the farm.  The cat went about doing its' own thing.
     It's sad, but the time I remember doing anything with or for a cat was to get my Daddy to pull a fishing hook out of the paw of a kitten.  Someone had gone fishing and had left the pole with a hook out in access of a playful kitten.
     There are not many memories to pop up from my childhood about the cat.  But I have made a lot of memories that pop out at me now from my adult life interacting with cats.  I have become more of a cat lover now and not much of a dog lover.
     Can I explain this away as my taste changing?  When growing up, we were fed food we grew.  Many of those items I did not like.  Mother cooked and often said, "You eat what I cook or do without!"
     Often I simply did without.  But now, as an adult, it seems I like those green beans, okra, squash, etc.  I like anything fresh from a garden now!  My taste has changed.  Can it be the same when I discuss my regard to my feelings for a cat vs. what I feel for a dog?
     Cats may be independent animals, but it is said they pick their master.  My cat Mya has chosen me.  Up in my lap she jumps.  Up close to my face she comes.  She now leans her head back and rubs against my chin.  I can't see a big husky dog doing this...