I’ve said this before but it bears repeating every time I hear from my friends who adopted Betty a couple months ago.   The things about her that drove me crazy, they find adorable, like stealing food off my plate.  Here’s their latest email update:

” Ms. Betty keeps us laughing every day and the other kitties hopping. But, they play with her and all three get along. She loves trying to get into all of the food. This morning she climbed up on the counter top and ran off with Phil’s sandwich bun for his lunch. She has been to the vet and all is well now that the shots are over. She does not have to go back until next  year. She is adorable and we love her.
Take care and many blessings,
Happy Holidays
Margie, and Phil. “

That’s what makes fostering so rewarding. ..knowing I’ve given her a wonderful life and my friends a loving companion for years to come.

Meantime, her successor, little Jr. is just my “cup of tea” purrsonality wise.  He’s quiet, playful, affectionate, but not aggressive, never uses his claws. He loves to pat my face with his paw as if to say, “You’re my mommy and I love you.”  He’s just a doll baby and has stolen my heart.  He’s getting fatter and fluffier by the day.

Spent part of my vacation last week setting up a cozy place inside the new tools shed and putting in the cat door so the cats will have a safe place out of the weather and away from our neighborhood wandering Beagle.  Buddy is a great dog whose favorite pass time, being a Beagle, is to chase my cats.  He doesn’t want to hurt them, just bark at them.

He’s most frustrated by Rosie who refuses to run.  She just sits there and stares at him while he barks his head off at her. Eventually, he gives up in frustration and trots off.   Others of mine, though get pretty upset by his barking. If only they would take a lesson from Rosie.

So far, only one cat has figured out how to get in to the shed.  In time, they’ll all use it, I hope.

Binky came to work with me the other day before a trip to the vet to get her stitches out.  She found a nice window to perch in while I worked.

 

 

 

 

Binky and Junior find their favorite spot on the sofa after a big dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

They’re soon joined by Summer.

 

 

 

 

Junior finds the food…box..

In 1998 I had just moved back to Atlanta from Chattanooga and had rented an apt in a nice complex.   Every morning, as I walked Midgie,  I would see this beautiful cat sitting at the back door of my neighbor’s townhouse.  They never let him in, even when it rained or got cold.  They said he was feral and he and his littermate had been dumped in the neighborhood as tiny kittens.

They adopted his littermate, but left him outside.  However, they did feed him.  Then one day  I noticed he was pawing at their back door asking for his dinner, but the drapes were closed.  The next day the same, and the day after that, etc.  A week went by and I finally went over there and saw the “for sale” sign in the front yard.   They had moved and left him behind.

I started feeding him and gradually he began to follow me over to my apt, but he was very skittish and wouldn’t let me near him.  When winter came, I set up a warm cabana bed at my front door with a warming pad inside and plenty of old quilted bedspreads, plastic, and blankets over it.  And he would use it.

Well long story short, 11 years later I still have him.  I tried to give him a cool name, but because I kept calling “Supper” in those early days to get him to come eat, he decided that was his name.

He’s always been a semi-feral, going in and out as he pleases.  He loves his mom, but to this day will trot in the other direction if I reach out to pet him.  He likes to be near and even in the house, but not in my lap.  Which is why when I was able to pet him the other day, I knew he wasn’t himself.

For the past several months, I noticed he was looking a little ragged and had lost some weight.  He’s always been long and lean, but this was different.  I chalked it up getting older. He had stopped grooming himself. He was eating with everyone, and putting on a cat’s usual stoic face, so I didn’t really pay too much attention until the other day.

He was sitting on the back of the sofa looking out the window when I sat down close to him.  Normally he would have bounded off to find another spot, but he stayed right there.  So I reached out and he let me pet his head. Then I ran my hand down his back and discovered under all that long hair he was just skin and bones.

Horrified and upset, I took him straight to my vet.  Dr. Hitchcock did a senior panel and for a 12yr old cat, everything came back pretty normal.  He has the beginning signs of kidney disease, but it’s not bad. Everything else is right where it should be.  But he had an elevated white blood count. So Dr. Hitchcock concluded there’s an infection going on somewhere and put him on Baytril, a strong antibiotic.  Which is fun considering I have to chase Suppie around the house, scruff him, and wrap him in a towel to get the pill down him.

It’s always hard to see our beloved pets get old. And because fe-lions are what they are, it’s usually a surprise when we find out they’ve gotten old and things are starting to go wrong.   I’ve been treating him with extra dinners of stewed chicken and he seems to be responding.  I hope he’ll get through this and I’ll have him a few more years anyway.