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The Story Of Our Cat...


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You are such a lucky man.  We tried to rescue some kittens that had been abondoned in our garage.  They didn't make it.  It really bothered me.  Later, we found two other kittens and kept them.  One of them, Piddy was my favorite and she followed me around everywhere.  When we moved we gave her a to a friend who was recovering from cancer.  About 6 months later we found out she had been hit by a car and was now buried in their garden.  I am 60 years old, 6'2' tall, built like a wall with accompanying attitude and nothing, but nothing has gotten to me like that cat (except my kids and wife).  Even now I feel her jumping on the bed.  My she live well and prosper.

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Oh yeah, you might notice a notch on Mina's left ear. The hair doesn't grow all around the notch. I didn't dislike all of the other cats. Henry. Old Henry you had to respect. He took what must have been a painful little chunk of our dear girl's ear. She probably deserved it. He's gone now, but he left his marks on the baby Mina that still remain from when she was apparently being too playful around the old man. I didn't see it happen but that is the entirely believable report I have heard. Whether you consider it a beauty mark or battle scar is in the eye of the beholder. I consider it both. I like the notch.

Edited by 3DOP
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Thank you so much, 3DOP, for sharing Mina's story... I've heard time and again, and from personal experience with my Mom, how peole who couldn't stand cats were turned upside down by a cat. 


I mentioned my Mom... she detested cats and we got into an argument one time that made me so angry it affected my feelings for her... I couldn't believe that my dear Mom would be so cruel as to express that she wished all cats would die... mainly because the neighborhood strays would mess in her garden, etc.  Anyway, there was this big tuxedo cat that lived in the bushes and she'd shoo him, turn the hose on him, throw rocks at him, etc every time she saw him.  He would run, but always came back to the  same spot.


Finally one day apparently he was looking so forlorn and hungry that she went in and got a weiner from the fridge and threw it out toward him... well, he devoured it so fast it made her feel sorry for him, so she went and got another... same thing.  So being the kind hearted person I knew her to be, the next day she put out a small dish of food out under the bushes.  The following day she set the dish a little closer... then closer.  Finally she set it on the porch and she would watch him eat and then she made him a cardboard box to sleep in... finally one day when she was out watering the plants he came and sat beside her, looking up and meowing... he was beautiful... and her heart melted.  In the evenings when my folks would sit on the front porch, he'd come and sit with them... she named him Whiskers... finally one evening he jumped up on her lap... during this time her letters begin to tell me about The Cat... she'd cut out pictures of cats from magazines and paste them in the margins of her letters.  She told me that when they went for drives she'd notice the cats sitting in windows, etc.  And finally one day closed her letter... "I love my cat!!" 

She went from one extreme to the other... and I loved her for it... when she passed away, I shipped her cats (now an orange tabby and the tuxedo) back to my sister's as dad was too old and legally blind to care for them properly.  They lived many more years on five acres with my sis's other cats... 


from the beach... with my beautiful Bobby-cat beside me... GG

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Loving the cat stories! When I was a teenager my family moved into a little condo because it was easier on my dad physically because he had a disability. And I begged to have a cat, at first it was a no, but I persisted and promised it would stay in my room. Finally got my way and found my black kitty from someone selling a litter at the grocery store. It turned out to be a little meany, I shouldn't blame my younger brother but I thought it was because he played rough with it. At night it slept in my room and would claw at me in my bed. I called it a neurotic cat. Finally after awhile I couldn't sleep for fear of being clawed at. I wanted it gone! All I remember is that my mom was crying when we took it to an animal shelter, but I didn't. Kind of funny how it turned out. But she probably knew about it's sure demise where I probably thought it'd be adopted out.

Since then with my own family we've had some great cats that have been sweet!

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I named her "Seven" at first, to highlight the fact that in my apparently unimportant opinion, our cat population was out of hand. At best I tolerated the six that preceded her and my wife would very sincerely describe me to friends as an animal hater. I never thought it was fair to be so characterized just because I didn't get attached to animals that lived with us, and I certainly wasn't interested in the animals that lived with other people. I did hate it and still do when other people's animals seem to want to smell me or nudge at me. 


So, although I object to be characterized as hating animals, I do admit to hating the actions of the animals. But then came the exception to the rule...


The last two of our children were still at home in the late summer of 2011, but they were both moving out within days of each other, thousands of miles away, for the unforeseeable future. We hadn't been without children for 28 years and Dad was feeling a little melancholy. Here is how I remember it: Our daughter was working at some coffee shop up to the time she left and I find out that her boss found some abandoned little cat on her farm...hardly even a cat yet...this day old little furry thing that would fit on a big spoon, as it happens, appeared to be lifeless underneath some plywood in this barn, but moved when poked with a stick. So the boss tells the people at the coffee shop. Daughter is immediately mobilized for action but there are many problems. Daddy is disgusted with all the cats we already have. She is leaving for Washington D.C. Mommy will have to nurse any kitty that comes along. At least they asked me. Of course I yield, as I always do, but we are naming the animal "Seven". I thought this might be a deterrent for yet further efforts to increase the population


They didn't argue with me about the name they just "called" the cat William and when they brought it home it was really tiny. William's/Seven's chances weren't the greatest without a cat Mommy. I could see this and observed as my wife diligently fed the cat with some kind of dropper every two hours. I kind of felt sorry for the little thing seeing how it wasn't the way of getting nourishment that was natural to it. So the kids moved out of the house as planned, and my wife takes William/Seven to the vet. Whoops. Name change time. William/Seven becomes Willamina/Seven. The little kitty was a she. I guess she needed to poop and was blocked up and the vet says she might not do it and could die. She was so tiny. My wife would wrap her in a little wash cloth and use a hot water bottle to keep her warm. This is when my heart kinda got involved. I had an empty spot with the kids out of the house, and little "Mina" as I began to call her had become important. I was surprised at myself at how much I wanted Mina to live. I know I prayed she would live and would ask how she was doing when I came home from work every day.


Well of course she made it. We were so excited when she had her first little poop and remained so for that first week or so wanting to make sure she kept it up. She was this little ball that grew and grew. I remember when she first started jumping from one place to another and would miscalculate. My wife and I would laugh and play with her a lot at that time because all of the old cats were just that. Cranky old things that wanted left alone. Of course she was wild about a laser on the wall. She is getting older now, but still has a long way to go we hope. Its funny, she hates being hugged or picked up, but she is so good natured she'll just kind of hum/grumble to let you know she would rather you not do that. But she never strikes or anything. Nowadays she'll jump on you in the recliner. But don't start restraining her or she is gone. Just let her be friendly her own way.


Anyway, the kids come home to visit of course and they see me messing with the cat, or worse, they hear me talking to the cat like it is a person, but kind of like baby talk I guess. They have skeptically asked their Mother, "Does Daddy like Mina?" She tells them the truth of course. They left and Mina has won my heart. I am not ashamed to affirm that this little tiny foundling kitty, who has grown into a really pretty and amiable kitty lady...I just like her a lot. Okay...I love the cat! I can't describe all the stuff we do because it involves how I call her name and her ears go back as she awaits whether she is in for an unwanted squeeze or a well received scratch on both sides of the neck. I try to mix it up. I still don't want any more cats with Mina. We are down to four now and I will be glad when its three. If only all cats were Mina, then I would want seven of them!     


The second picture is self-explanatory...Owners pleased to see the dear one complacently at rest where she doesn't belong. The first is very early. My wife says her claws were out all the time because when they are first born they won't retract.


No cats around here. One dog would eat a cat, the other would be great friends with one.

My only kitty story, growing up, is a horror story. I like yours much better. :)

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