On a very short leash …

If you’ve got any four-legged family members living at your house you know very well I’m not talking about me keeping my animals on a tight rein. Absolutely myboysnot. Au contraire. In fact it is my two furry little beasts who have me on the leash. And a short one at that. Over a barrel. At their mercy. At their beck and call.

Yes. These two. Bartlett, on the left. Dark grey with the interesting white markings. And Sundance. Ginger and the more svelte of the two. I’m being kind. Bartlett is the size of an adult racoon. He weighs in at more than thirty pounds. Probably much more, but I can’t pick him up to put him on the scale. He’s way too heavy. And much as he loves to cuddle, he does not — I repeat NOT — like being picked up. By anyone. Even me.

I know, they look like butter would melt in their mouths. In all fairness, sometimes it would. “Some” being

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Day 6. The Continuation

As I recall, when I left off yesterday I was doomed.  Indeed I was.

A new email from my friend announced that she’d found homes for two kittens.  Just one was left; and this time she shared the whole story with me:  When the kind soul found them in that dumpster they were just days old.  He had a child with asthma, so taking them home was out of the question.  So he took them to work.  He fed them, cared for them, even made pillows for them.  But by the time a month had passed they were starting to grow and he knew he couldn’t keep them for much longer.

How Debbie (my friend) got them from him I don’t remember.  It was rather convoluted.

Anyway, we had one baby left and Debbie, who already had four cats of her own, insisted that I come and pick one up and take it to my house until a foster home was found.  Off I went to her house.

When I saw those three little butterballs tumbling unsteadily around her basement I was as good as gone.  But when Bartlett cocked his head to one side (not surprising given how heavy those ears must have been) and stared right into my eyes it was love at first sight — for Continue reading

Day 5. Simply Irresistible

When I first met Bartlett I already had two cats:

Zazu, a female tabby with major attitude.  A true diva, she was a total slut.  The minute she heard a man’s voice, even if it was the cable guy, she came tearing down to the front door from wherever she was in the house and literally draped herself around his legs, refusing to leave him alone until he picked her up and gave her a hug.  And Sundance, a very handsome ginger male who looks sweet and shy, but isn’t happy unless he’s getting into trouble.  He’s my juvenile delinquent.

Both were rescued.  Zazu and two siblings were found on the porch of a chinese restaurant by a Vet.  A friend of mine, who knew I was longing for a cat to replace one I’d recently lost after 18 years, called to let me know that she’d taken one, and there were two left.  I actually wanted both, so I hightailed it to the Vet’s office, but someone had beaten me to it.  Just one was left — and I immediately fell in love with her.  When I arrived she was fast asleep, laying on top of a dog, who was, himself, dozing in the waiting room.  Three months after I had Zazu I got a phone call from a cat rescue I’d registered with.

They had a litter of ginger kittens and there was a male reserved for me.  Only days old at the time, I was told I’d have to wait two months until he was old enough to be weaned away from his mom — a feral cat who would be spayed before being allowed to roam free again.  She was too old and too set in her ways to ever live in captivity, but they made sure she was healthy and unable to get pregnant before releasing her.

It never occurred to me that Zazu would be upset about having a companion.  After all, she’d lived at a Vet’s for a month — and there she had everything from birds to fish to dogs and other cats for roomies.  It never dawned on me that she was thrilled to leave the menagerie behind her, and loved having me — and my 3-story Continue reading