My furfamily, Misty

Misty, this sweet kitty was our friend and neighbors kitty.

They moved and couldn’t take her with them, so I took her.

She was a love, sadly, I didn’t have her long. She had some sort of sinus issue, she couldn’t smell. I learned that one day when I was cleaning and she walked right up to a tub of ammonia, took a big whiff and walked away without even shaking her head.

One night, I heard some banging and clanging, not too unusual with 5 kitties in an apartment, but, sadly, I didn’t get up to check.

I found her the next morning paralyzed and in some sort of state. I took her to the ER, she crashed there. They said she’d gotten in to something toxic. I never found what it was. No plants were disturbed that I found and all of my cleaners were closed in kid/kitty proof cabinets.

My poor love, it broke my hear to lose her so soon and in such a bad way.

My furfamily, Whiskers

Whiskers: Here I was, in my apartment and I hear this wee baby “mew” from near by, out I go to find this tiny and I do mean TINY little long haired black kitty with blue eyes and a white bib and the longest white whiskers.

Of course I can’t leave her out there, she’s just a baby. In she came, she became my 4^th kitty.

Mind you, I’m a single mom and don’t know how I’ll afford 4 kitties, but, we’ll manage.

She was such a lover. Hungry little girl she was. I remember one day I had a burrito from Taco Bell and I set it on the coffee table and that tiny little thing grabbed it in her mouth and took off down the hall. LOL, it was bigger than her. She would go in my mouth after food.

She was so small she’d curl up in my shoes and fit all of her in there, she’d sleep in my clean crystal ash tray.

She LOVED the crinkle sound. I had a bowl of butterscotch candies I kept on the table and they were always missing. She’d steel them and play with them until she lost them, then come for another. When we played pictionary, we’d crumple the paper we were done drawing on and she’d come running out for the paper ball.

She was mama’s girl too, she slept on my pillow more often than not and had the BIGGEST PURR for such a wee kitty. She only topped out around 6 lbs. I’d had her for years when one of my friends saw her and asked me when I go the new kitten.

When I lived in Folsom with a roommate, we were moving back in to an apartment of our own, she’d disappeared. I called and called, I’d taken the last load down and all the kitties and no Whiskers. I made one last trip up to find her that night and was standing on the stairs inside calling her and calling her and she came FLYING in the front door, up the stair and airborne in to my arms. I’ll never forget that feeling, she was SO happy I had come back for her.

When she passed away, I’d feel her spirit come to me and it was that feeling, her flying in to my open arms and being hugged in to my heart.

Whiskers LOVED wet feet, she’d wait in the bathroom, preferably freshly showered wet feet, she’d rub all over and bite in a frenzy every time. Fresh from the spa was good too, but nothing was better than freshly showered wet feet and ankles.

She started getting funny in the head, we thought she was getting senile, even though she was only about 13, she eventually wouldn’t leave the bathroom of our bedroom, she’d still sleep with me, she was my girl. She didn’t like the other kitties anymore though and would spit at them and run and hide. We didn’ t know anything about hyperthyroid then. Not until Jackie’s kitty Haley was diagnosed with it did I learn that’s what took my sweet Whiskers from us. She was a light in my life.

My furfamily, Bear

Bear: In the apartments where I lived when my daughter Jackie was small, there was this sweet gray kitty, he seemed young, maybe 6 months to a year old. He met me at my door every day, I’d leave a bowl out for him.

My landlord tried to discourage me from feeding him as "he will never leave".

He was a talker, the kitty, not the landlord. He’d walk with me to the laundry room and talk the whole way, he’d walk with me to the mailboxes telling me his story. I suspect someone moved out and left him.

One day I opened the front door and he raced in between my feet and never left. I called him Smokey. He was gray and I wasn’t real good at coming up with names.

Smokey morphed in to Smokey Bear because he was such a lover, a teddy bear, then he just became Bear. He was the sweetest boy. He was mama’s kitty. He talked for years, then he just stopped. I suppose he ran out of story to tell me. He was always near me or on me.

When we lived in a house, he would wander off, never far, I’d call and within a couple of minutes he was home. He was getting tubbier and tubbier until one day he jumped off of the hood of my Honda with an audible “oof” and I decided to put a collar on him, sure he was being fed somewhere else too. After the collar went on, he started hanging out at home more and lost weight.

My Bear always slept on my shoulder at night, I’d roll over and he’d climb right back on or roll me like a log. He was my love, my light for 20 years. We lost our precious Bear to kidney failure. I still feel him come sleep on my shoulder and Oscar, who sleeps on my hip will scoot down and make room when I feel Bear come visit me.

My furfamily, Tony

Tony, my sweet big boy. He got so tubby, what a handsome big boy he was.

Both he and Cleo were Tuxedo kitties. He more white than her.

Tony was aloof, he didn’t sleep with me often or sit on my lap often, but when he did it was very special.

He was very protective over his family though. He and Cleo both would stand up and put their front paws on the edge of the bassinett when both girls were little and check on the baby. If the baby was stirring and I wasn’t in the room, he’d come get me and tell me “she’s up”.

One day, my sweet guy plopped himself down on the window sill, the window was open and the screen popped out. We were on the second floor. Scared me to bits. He landed on his feet, still as could be. I was so worried, but he was ok.

Another time a babysitter let him out. Tony and Cleo were apartment kitties, they didn’t go outside. Oh my goodness, I was devastated. He was gone for days. We looked and walked everywhere, calling, blocks around. Couldn’t find him. It was summer, I’d leave the front door opne during the day in case he came home. Cleo wouldn’t leave the apartment but for once she heard a “mow” that might be Tony and she ran out, down the stairs, around the corner and got scared. There was no Tony, but I was right behind her so she was safely back in her apartment quickly. I slept with the window open on the sofa and one night, late, I heard his familiar “mow”. I went tearing outside and there he was on the wrong stairwell calling to me. He was smelly and sticky and messy and sore and ever so glad to be home. I have no idea where he’d been or what happened to him, but he never strayed far again.

Poor baby had bladder crystals, I had no idea that was even possible then. I’d seen him in the boxes a lot, but didn’t realize he wasn’t going. Then one Saturday afternoon he flopped down in front of me and I realized he looked bigger than he should and his white fur was yellow, like urine. Off to the ER he went, me with no money, but $1200 or so later, he was home and fine. I’m so thankful he was healed and I got so many more years with him.

He got so old, blind and skinny, but one day he heard his girl crying out front, she’d fallen off of her bike and he, Tony, blind as a bat, made his way out front to check on her. He lived a long happy 18 years with us, we lost our sweet boy to kidney failure.

Like Cleo, sweet Tony is in my heart and thoughts still.

My furfamily, Cleo

Since losing 2 of my loved ones this month, I've decided to write a memory book kind of thing on each of my furkids. This way I can keep it forever, and add to it as new memories are created and new family members come to share their lives with us. This is all for my benefit, but if you would like to read, feel free.

My first kitty of my adult life was Cleo.

Cleo: I was 16 and newly married and pregnant. I found the apartment to be SO empty and couldn’t quite place why, then I realized… NO animals. So, off I went in search of a free kitten. I found a sign in front of a house and they had 2 kitties left. I took the girl, then felt SO bad about separating brother and sister I went back the next day and got the boy.

I was trying to find names that went together and my Grandma said “Anthony and Cleopatra” hence, Cleo and Tony.

Now, when I took her, they’d been romping and playing and having a grand ol’ time. I would have thought they’d missed each other terrible the one night they were apart. When I got Tony home the next day Cleo spat at him and was miffed to have to share HER home. They warmed up quickly though and soon became a pair of demolition kittens.

Cleo was so in love with me, bless her soul, she wouldn’t be in a room if I wasn’t in it. If I went to the bathroom in the night, she came too. That’s when she’d use her litter box, when I went.

She would pounce me and sit on me and relentlessly lick me. I thought she wanted the salt from my skin, but it was just a nervous habit, she did it all her life. If I tried to take my arm or hand from her, she’d grab on tight, sit on it and lick. She did it to Ian too for years.

She was my baby girl for 18 years. I lost my sweet girl to cancer in the mouth. We had to put her to sleep when she could no longer eat and drink. I still think of her often.