Misha the Tuxedo Boy
Misha is quite a loving kitty – on his terms. I have had him for about 8 years. He was my rescue cat after Boo died of cancer. My vet had taken Misha in since the family wanted to put him down do to his urinary tract issue. The doctor fixed it, but Misha would always need special food and attention and this family didn’t really think they wanted that kind of responsibility. Their loss was my gain. Misha and Vlad got along fabulously and helped me get over the loss of my sweet little girl. Vlad passed the next year – he was 15 – and I decided that I would keep it down to one cat so as not to be the crazy cat lady.
Fast forward 6 years. I begin dating Ronn and along with him comes the baggage of kittens. While trimming bushes and trees in the backyard one morning, he came across a mommy kitty with her brood of young uns. There were four and mama was only a teenager herself, but she did a great job as they took up residence in my backyard under the deck. I fed them regularly and tried to make friends with these feral beasts, but only one paid any particular attention to me and that was Lassie. A year later, at Ronn’s insistence, I took this orange and white jumbo cat in.
Lassie, Mr. Coy
See mama was a ho and she had another litter of wee felines and was already working on getting knocked up again like some Jerry Springer guest. She had decided to keep her tom johns away from her young ones so she took up brothel residence under my neighbor Jeff’s house. The porn music and wailing that came with her seductions drove him mad and instead of shooting them all (which he threatened to do) he got a cage from Animal Control and captured them (plus a couple possums too.) Lassie never left my yard and kept trying to get in so I took the plunge. Mama also got away since Jeff let her go after she got caught and looked like she would kill herself to get out of the cage (he does have a heart.)
I was content with two cats and my freedom. Then I fell in love with Fiona. I loved Duncan, but Fiona in her pugalicious way found a space in my heart and filled it with her charming pants and snores. When Patty told me that she may be pregnant after a night of drunken bliss (Patty’s husband got drunk and didn’t separate the dogs so love took over) I secretly hoped she was. Well not secretly really, I think it went something like this.
Me: “For your sake, I hope she didn’t get knocked up, but I would really love to have one of her puppies, so ..”
Patty: “Bite your tongue bitch, she’s not pregnant.”
Me: “But if she is, I want one.”
December 10, we have pups. Finn had that Harry Potter lightning bolt on his forehead and I just couldn’t resist. Eight weeks later, I have a puppy. Count another 3 weeks and I have book ends.
Now I think of all the places I can take them and all the people I can show them off to. I planned on filling their wardrobes with knitted goods, but they just grow too fast and it is too hot to put them in anything other than their natural fur coats.
I don’t consider myself a crazy animal person, but there is a fine line between eccentric and sane and the one who is afflicted is always the last to know. For now I will profess my sanity and saturate you all with pictures of my cute little kids, both feline and canine.