My furfamily, Sir

Sir, wow, what can I say about Sir. He was majestic. He was a light in our lives.

I went to PetsMart one weekend... for cat food... and walked in to see this wonderfully beautiful Fawn Great Dane up for adoption. I walked up to him and he leaned on me. That was it, I was already in love. I called Ian right then and there, "hon? can we have a dog? He's a big dog" "how big" asked Ian, "well, big... he's a Great Dane".

I learned later, that’s a common Great Dane trait, the leaning, but that was love at first sight, for me anyway.

He was 5, his family lost their home and couldn’t take him to the parents home, that was the story anyway. I wonder now, because he had old stress licking scars on his legs and the foster mom told me he was a house dog. When we got him home, I’m sure he hadn’t been a house dog. He was a VERY good boy. He slept in our bedroom that first night and in the morning he had to go potty, he got up and went to the slider, we weren’t fast enough though, he peed there on the carpet. Ugh. But that was the one and only time there was an accident like that. He’d wait for hours, he stayed in the house while we were at work all

day.

One day he spotted the clock up hanging high on the wall and heard it ticking I suppose, and he
went nuts,barking crazy. We took it off the wall and showed him, he eventually decided the clock could stay.

No, I’m sure he wasn’t a house dog.

He quickly became a happy house dog though. The first Christmas, we brought the tree in, and well, what dogs do with trees? He couldn’t figure out why on earth we’d bring a tree in the house, but… ok. So he peed on it. Again, a one time deal, never did he do it again. He was a smart boy.

I’d never seen a dog nest. Sir liked to nest. He’d fluff and root his bed to make it all cozy, but being so big and having such big claws, he’d nest his bed to shreds, regularly. We’d buy him big pillows and they’d last a while, but eventually they’d shred.

The first winter we had him, we took him to the snow. Ian says “all dogs love snow”, hmmmm.

So, we loaded the girls in the backseat of the Honda Accord, lay Sir on top of the girls and off we went.

We got to the snow, walked a way in and he took off. Now, he was still new to us, so I didn’t know where he’d go. I was so worried he'd run off and we'd never find him... I was yelling at people to grab his leash, no one would grab the leash of a fleeing 150 lb Great Dane. Go figure.

The snow was soft and puffy, so with each step I took I sunk to my knee, hindering my chase. When I finally got free of the snow I found him waiting at the Honda's back door. “take me home, take me home now” No snow for Sir.

We soon bought the minivan so Sir could have his own seat rather than having to ride on the lumpy girls. He loved that.

There was one incident that I happened to hit the brakes suddenly though, poor Sir. sigh... Ally had just said “don’t throw Sir off the... seat” and down he went, between the 2 seats and couldn’t

get back up easily.

He rode everywhere with us, he was happiest waiting in the van. Even when we’d go to my mother’s place or Ian’s folks house, he’d prefer to wait in the van. I guess he knew that was always going home.

He wasn’t supposed to lay on the sofa or the beds, but when we’d come home from work we’d hear the shift of the sofa or the squeak of Allyssa’s bed as he got down to pretend he’d been on his bed all day.

The first day we left him all day, I was first home and came in through the garage to the kitchen door and he greeted me by standing up on his hind legs and wrapping his front paws on my shoulders. He stood several inches taller than me and it scared me to bits. He was just really happy to see me. That too, was a one time thing.

I remember him up on his hind legs springing up and down so he could see over the privacy fence in the back yard. Funny funny sight.

Sir would regularly RUN around the back yard, several laps, and when he was done he’d run full speed in to the house through the slider. Well, one day the slider wasn’t opened and WHAM. Poor guy! He was very careful after than to check to see if the door was open.

Sir loved his stuffed rabbit. It was his friend. Once he got a little too rambunctious with it and tore its head off. Later that evening I was lying on the bed crocheting or reading… and he sadly, mournfully, brought me the stuffed rabbit body, sulked back out of the room, then again, mournfully brought me the head. I’m sure he wanted me to fix it. I did. He was a happy guy

again.

Much later, months probably, after many repairs, arms, feet, head again too I’m sure… it was unrepairable and the one and only time I ever saw Sir dig… he was in the garden digging a hole with the bits of his bunny next to the hole. I’m sure he was going to bury his passed friend.

Now, tell me animals don't have souls or are just "dumb animals". Sure they are.

Sir was the love of our lives. He went on a long camper trip with us and traveled very well. He was such a good boy.

Sir would go for a walk around the neighborhood with Ian every day, very early in the mornings. One day he was out front while Ian was washing a car and off he went, I think he was going to take his walk. He knew the route by heart after all.

Sir didn’t care for dirty, no mud,rain, weather, water… while he would drink from the pool… and did fall in once, he really didn’t like water.

Sir HATED bath time. I can't stress enough, he was a good boy and would very reluctantly let us take him in the shower for a warm bath once in a GREAT while.

When Sir fell in the pool, that’s when we learned that Great Danes don’t swim, they sink. He didn’t even try to swim. Luckily Ian happened to be out there when it happened and led him to the steps and got him out.

He was our giant ball of love.

We lost our dear Sir to Bloat when he was 12. He was quite old, by then his hind legs wouldn’t hold him up for long, he’d sag. 12 is quite old for a Great Dane.

Sir is the reason we adopted Pongo and Purdy. In his honor, we saved 2 more like him.

My furfamily, Ginger

Ginger is the only girl of the three puuds. We had Maggie and Ginger, but now she’s the only girl of the remaining 6 kitties.

Ginger is a cuddler. She’ll sleep with us almost nightly, well, in the winter. She and Jeevies won’t stay in come spring and summer and mostly even fall. There are too many nighttime bugs out back to be chased and played with to be wasting that time with mom and dad.

Ginger is a solid gray, soft as rabbit fur like Jeevies. She’s soft and squishy, I love to pet and squeeze her. She usually doesn’t mind. She’ll come lay across me sometimes and purr. I love that.

We’re hoping that she too will learn to be an “on you “ kitty. She’s quite the mighty huntress. She was the brave one of the three pudds. She’s the one that got my attention when they were wee tiny babes in the parking lot and the one least likely to run from me, even then. She loves her wet hands rubdown. She’ll wait in the bathroom while I shower and splay herself out on the floor towel so I’ll wet my hands and rub her til my hands are dry, pulling loose fur out, and I’ll have to do this 3 or 4 times with freshly wet hands until she’s happy. She does it outside too, she has a spot in the grass, she’ll run and crouch and wait for Ian to wet his hands in the pool water and rub her down.

I love it when she’s content she’ll curl her paws, all four feets with the toes curled.

My furfamily, Ashes

Ashes: a fantastically beautiful chocolate point crossed blue eyed Ragdoll. He’s a big boy, 21 lbs when he’s on his diet. 25 or so if left to free feed.

He’s SMART. HE opens cabinet doors, he can open lever handle doorknobs, like Tony could.

Ashes was one of two lovely kitties we’d meet every day on our walks around the neighborhood. He and Sammy would come greet us, we’d often sit on the sidewalk and pet them, they’d love us, sit in our laps.

They lived just 3 or 4 houses up the street and would often come visit us in our driveway. Loving, Ashes would cuddle, rub and PURR for us.

One day, our idiot neighbor’s daughter came to our house and said they were moving and their dad didn’t want to take Ashes and Sammy so he was going to have them put to sleep.

Ashes was all of 1 year old and Sammy 2. Both healthy happy kitties.

Our friends who later moved to the east coast took Sammy. He’s been their only cat, only child now for years and all are VERY happy together.

Ashes is my baby blue eyed boy, Siamese in markings but all Ragdoll. He’s such a lover. 21 lbs of cuddle and purr machine.

I often get up to find all the kitchen cabinet doors open. Sometimes contents pulled out on the floor.

He’s saldy been banned from the bedroom as he took it in his head that the way to get my attention was to pee on the bed.

Ashes is usually a very relaxed kitty. Sprawled out in "here's my belly" position is often his favorite.

Almost every night, after we go to bed, we have a gate that closes off the hallway so Ashes can’t get in, he grabs one of his toys, usually his foil ball toy and “MROW” MROW” very loudly. He’ll normally bring it to us, I’ll find it in the morning either just outside the hallway gate or just outside our bedroom slider.

Ashes likes shiny things. Jewelry included. He’ll steel my earrings, necklaces, rings, right off of my vanity or the counter or wherever I’d left them. One day he’d stolen an earring and I asked him “Ashes, would you please bring me back my earring?” as I’d not found it yet and he was acting all innocent cat… hours later I found the earring on the floor at my bedroom door.

He has a thing for my lip balm. I make my own so sometimes it’s in a regular lipstick type container or sometimes in a small tub. He’ll knock it off of wherever I have it to get my attention. He does it while meeting my eyes. He wants me to know it’s him doing it. He does it with a bit of cattitide even.

He’s a smart, sweet, full of personality guy and I wouldn’t trade a minute he’s spent with us. Ashes cuddles me every night on my recliner arm. I LOVE it when he decides to make himself fit in my lap. There’s not a better feeling in the world that the relaxed weight of a kitty on you purring, make that a 21 pound purring kitty and I’m a HAPPY mom!

My furfamily, Jasper

Jasper is the shyest of the three gray puuds.

In the beginning you wouldn’t find the three of them separated. Always together, playing, sleeping in a big gray fur pile. They quickly made friends with everyone.

Uncle Boo and Uncle Oscar were commonly seen cuddling with one or all of them.

Jasper used to sleep on our bed with his brother and sister, but Maggie being the love of his life, he soon chose to stay in the living room with her as she wouldn’t come to bed with us.

He was Ian’s baby, for the first 6 years of his life he wouldn’t sit on my lap, wouldn’t let me hold him, he was only Ian’s kitty.

Here’s a kicker, that little stinker, who wouldn’t let me pick him up or cuddle him… one day my mother was here and she comes walking around the corner with Jasper in her arms!

I don’ t know why, for so long he was afraid of me. Finally, one afternoon, Ian wasn’t home and I was sitting in my recliner watching TV and Jasper must have wanted a cuddle because he came and lay on my lap, from then on he's been my boy too.

I think it has to do with kitty language. They say the slow blink means “I love you” in kitty, so I started slow blinking at him. He’d always done it to me, really, I suspect that’s when he decided I was ok. Now, I'm no sooner in my recliner chair and he's on my lap. He’ll cuddle me, sit on my lap, let me hold him, rub his belly.

When we put a tall child gate in the hallway to make a “crate” for Pongo and Purdy, Jasper was the first to learn to jump it. After we lost our sweet Maggie and sweet Boo, Jasper began to jump the gate in the night and sleep with me. He won't stay past my discovery of him there, but I feel him come in to cuddle where Boo used to and he’ll stay for hours.

Jasper has a funny habit, he picks his toenails, the only cat I’ve had that does that. Ian does it too, I wonder if they’re linked somehow and Ian taught him to pick his toenails.

Jasper, like Maggie Mae, LOVES the fire. Nothing better than a pillow in front of a warm fire.

My furfamily, Jeevies

Jeevies is the most like Smokey Bear. He’s a big lovebug, with a GIANT purr and he is soft like rabbit fur. That's Bear on the right and Jeevies on the left. See? Just like Grandpa Bear.

He likes to lay next to you all stretched out and have you put your arm along his belly so he can wrap himself around your arm. We call him our Jeeves sleeve.

He’s recently made himself a 14 lb boy. I keep telling him, Ashes is supposed to be 20 lbs, but Jeevies, not so much. He does like to eat.

He had some nasty bladder crystals when he was around 4 or 5. It was bad, he had to be at the vet for days. They weren’t sure he would be able to pee on his own again; thankfully he made a full recovery. We’re hoping this new grain free food will help all of them to not get bladder crystals too.

Jeeves, he's a mooch. He loves to be loved. He comes up to all the kitties and head bonks them and waits for them to bathe him. He revels in it. Grandpa Bear always, always took good care of his Jeevies and now Mr. Jeeves expects all the other kitties to bathe him. Sometimes they do, sometimes they try to pierce his ears with their teeth.

Jeevies and Boo.

Jeevies is quite the hunter. I discourage hunting, even though I know it’s their nature. One day he got himself 2 full grown blue jays at once. He was headed for the kitty door at full speed with one in his mouth while being bombed by the other birds. I, of course ran out like a madwoman trying to get him to drop the poor bird before hitting the kitty door at full speed. Sigh.

He brought in the house a live hummingbird one day too. Oh my goodness, he came in with it in his mouth, we yelled, of course, he let go, the bird flew all over the house trying to get out. We were trying to catch the hummingbird... in the house...

Jeeves managed to get to the mantle above the fireplace and launched off of it and caught the bird a second time mid-air. We chased him, he ran out the kitty doors and outside and let go and the bird flew away. We were quite relieved the bird lived and laughed so much at 3 of us trying to catch a hummingbird in the house.

Jeevies, he's my big baby boy. I love his cuddles each and every night... well, until spring comes and bugs come out, then he'd prefer chasing bugs to cuddling.

Oscar & Jeevies - see, he's a mooch and a snuggler.

My furfamily, The 3 gray puuds

One day at work, I think I was at lunch, I saw this tiny gray face, and I do mean TINY and hungry... run in to the bushes in the parking lot. I went to investigate and found 3 itty bitty gray kitty faces watching me ever so carefully. Oh my goodness, I ran upstairs to get my coworkers and asked them to help me catch them. After about 15 minutes, my boss announced they are ferals and I'll never catch them. I tried again after work and each morning, noon and evening thereafter to no avail.

I had spotted Ginger first, the girl, the brave one. I started feeding them, bringing them a can of food each day. They were HUNGRY. They would run from me, but come rightback for the can of food, only once I'd stepped out of grabbing distance though.

One weekend Ian and I went down to try, Ian caught Jasper first because Ian had already figured out that Jasper was SO skiddish he had better be first or he wouldn't get another chance.

I stuffed Jasper the van, then Ian caught Ginger and Jeevies. Turns out there was a 4th far more afraid than even Jasper was. Little AWOL we called him, was the MOST skiddish and there would be no catching him.

I tried for days, he’d run up inside of parked cars engines where I couldn’t get him. Ian and I went back even with a humane trapping cage, we waited and waited.... no go.

I saw him for days after then no more. He must have wandered off. I hope he found a good colony to join.

My furfamily, Felix

Felix, he’s the quietest of the pair, usually. He can be quite vocal as well. I love his trilling.

He looks more like Tony did, more white. He’s a SUPER love. Giant purrs, headbonks. He’ll snuggle on our pillow or near it at night. He's often a hat for Ian in the night. Not too often for me, but he does like to sit atop my recliner and bonk me in the back of the head while PURRING.

He likes to have his way with blankets. Odd duck, him. He plays "piano" with all four feet, simultaneously, round and round in circles he goes, but I suspect we could name him Chester the Molester. He’s fixed, I don’t know where he gets the urge to molest blankets, but there it is.

He’s becoming more aggressive, not mean so much but more forceful and sometimes goes on the attack on Ginger or Ashes. They do go ‘round every so often. Both Ginger and Ashes give it right back though. He's becoming possessive of the bed too, he doesn't want to share. For such a little guy he can be a bully.

Felix likes to be snuggled in real tight. He wants to be grabbed and stuffed under the covers with you and held tight and he’s happy as can be. He’s usually found on our bed or on a heating pad in the winter when I put them out.

Felix is a cuddler, he’ll come up in the night with a GIANT purr and a wet cold nose and poke, usually Ian, sometimes me, in the eyeball or mouth with his wet nose. He wants to be squished. You have to grab him, stuff him under the covers with you and squeeze him tight, he LOVES it. He’ll stay for an hour or so, probably until he gets too warm, then off he goes, probably to molest a blanket.

His markings are cute, he has a “Hitler” mustache and one butt cheek is white and the other black, so when he runs away we say “black white black white black white” . Sorry, I don't have a picture of the running away cheeks.

My furfamily, Oscar

Oscar was one of 2 kittens, wee little ones that looked SO much like my Tony and Cleo, I just couldn’t resist. I’d recently lost Tony and there they were, as cute as could be.

Some fool dumped them, itty bitty babies they were in a wooded area behind a vet. The vet’s office took them in, cared for them, they both had upper respiratory infections.

We were there because my aunt's Rotweiller Morgan was having surgery, we’d gone to visit Morgan and here they were. When the vet said they could go home, I took them both.

Oscar and Felix are from the Odd couple. Turns out the names fit. Oscar is the one who looks most like my Cleo and sure enough, he’s mama’s boy as Cleo was mama’s girl. He’s so sweet, he never leaves me, he’s almost always on my lap or sleeping on my hip at night. If I roll over, he comes right back and takes his spot on my hip or on my side. He’s my baby boy, he loves his mama as much as I love him.

You can see here, he even loves Jasper. Jasper was just a wee one and here's Uncle Oscar with his arm around him.

I think Oscar was a dog in his past life. He is quite protective of me. Sitting in my lap, the doorbell will ring or the dogs will bark because they hear something and Oscar will snap up and “grrrrrr”.

My darling Oscar suffers from COPD, he has to get a steroid shot every few weeks to breathe.

We just switched their food, thanks to my love Boo, to grain free food, I suspect it may be helping Oscar’s condition. I hope so. I want him to live and love a long HAPPY life.

Oscar is quite vocal, talks and talks. He sounds like he’s demanding, but that’s just his voice.

There’s a ray of sun coming through the window and he’s in it.

Oscar liked to play the piano when we had it. If that keyboard cover was up and Oscar wanted attention, over they keys he'd run.

He’s the more outgoing of the pair. Usually. He doesn’t hide from company, he’ll stay right where he is, thanks.

When Felix and Oscar were babies, they were kitten terrors, they’d come running at top speed from room to room, ramming one or the other in to walls, coffee table legs,

We put bells on their little collars and when Sir heard the jingle bells you could see him cower and give a shudder “here they come again”.

The stinkers were inseparable, they would hop the fence, I’d find them on the other side of the neighborhood as I’d take Sir for his walk. I’d have to take Sir home and go collect the kittens. They’d run the fences, smart little guys they are.

Something cute and funny Oscar does is his twitchy tail. They say when a cats tail twitches it’s a sign of love and adoration. He used to follow Ian around the house with this tail twitching – straight up in the air and just a’quivering. That meant he wanted to snuggle with Ian. He’d sit on Ian’s chest and play piano, make muffins, whatever you call it until he left an Oscar created tattoo on Ian’s skin.

He still does it to Ian,but these days, he’s my boy. He comes in every time I do yoga and does yoga with me, he’ll sit next to me, rub on my hands or any part of me he can get depending on my yoga position. His tail twitches away if I’m not touching him. He sleeps on me all the time, and when he comes up on the bed or on my lap, that tail will be twitching every time.

Working with the public

As most of you know, I work in a health food store. We sell, healthy foods & supplements. Makes sense?

I get the strangest questions, remarks and requests sometimes. I get to talk with people who have little to no command of the English language, some because they're from elsewhere, some... well... I think you can figure it out.

So yesterday, this elderly Asian woman asks me "where are your cigarette lighters?" HUH? Did you notice the sign over the door when you entered? Then she asks "How about a book of matches?" Sigh.

Another caller, a LONG time regular customer, elderly, but still... he calls and asks if we sell thumbleine? To which I reply, "do we sell what?" "can you spell that for me please?" He says "thumbline, you don't know what thumbline is?" "Um, no, can't say as I do sir... what is it?" "The thing you jump on." Ah... Trampoline.

Ok, I say again, to myself of course... if you are a LONG time customer, and he is, I realized who it was, when have you ever seen a trampoline in our store?

So, I tell him, "we're a health food store sir" "I KNOW... I've been shopping there for years." He tells me. Ok. So I say, "a sports store, they'll have trampolines." "OK, can you connect me with one?" He asks. Sigh... just let me plug in the switchboard, yeah, ok...

Then another caller, "You sell Nacho Q's?" "Pardon me?, what is it you're looking for?" I ask. "Nacho Q's" Hmmm, ok... "what is that?" I ask. "It's a book, Nacho Q's". "Ah, Natural Cures?" I say. "Yes, it's a book" she replies. "yes, we have that one." I tell her. "What's in it?" she asks. "Well, Natural Cures" I say. She asks "How much is it?" I reply "$24.95" "tweny-fo niney- fi?" "Um, yes, $24.95". "Tweny-fo niney-fi?" she asks again. "Yes". I say. "It tell you how to Q diabetes?" Sigh... "I be in tomorra" Good - whew, I'm off tomorrow.

These are just a few of my experiences from just one 5 hour shift.

My furfamily, Roscoe

Roscoe was an adorable little floppy kitten that someone from the lumber mill across the streetfrom work saved from a large equipment accident.

He was so tiny, long haired, calico with white rimmed eyes and when you’d hold him he’d flop like he had no bones. I used to say “if he gets anymore relaxed he’d be dead”

He was such a little lover.

One day Ian and I couldn’t find him, we could hear a wee "mew mew mew" but nowhere could we find him.

Finally, I spotted this little paw coming our from under the 2 step stairs that led from the garage to the house. The opening was so small, I have no idea how he got in there but he was good and stuck, couldn’t get himself out. We had to pull and twist and turn and it took some doing but finally we got him free. We thought we’d have to take the stairs apart and rebuild them.

I didn’t have the money to get him fixed when it was time. He wandered off, he never came home. I know someone took that cute little bugger in, I looked everywhere, called every shelter for days and days. I found no evidence of him anywhere. I’m sure he’s happily living with his family now.

My furfamily, Miss Kitty

Miss Kitty: Poor Miss Kitty. She was a tortoiseshell baby, quite feral. I didn’t realize that when I captured her much against her will and brought her to grandma. She was a wild girl. She would love on grandma and she would attack her too. Sometimes grandma was afraid of her when she’d go in to this wild rage and other times she was as sweet as could be. Her dear life was cut short when she found her way in to the warm dryer and grandma didn’t realize it. Lesson: Kitties love warm places and I ALWAYS always double and triple check the dryer and the before it's closed. I'll even get up from bed to recheck it.

My furfamily, Maggie Mae

Maggie was a beautiful long haired calico Maine Coon kitty I found at PetsMart adoption. She so reminded me of Cricket, my grandma’s 20 year calico, I had to get her for Grandma as she was sans kitty.

Maggie was wonderful, she adored grandma. She was always on the top of her recliner or on her ottoman or on a kitchen chair near her. She had long lovely locks and didn’t like to be brushed. Poor baby got so matted one summer I took her to the vet, had them put her under and shave her nekked. She LOVED being nekked.

When I’d come to visit grandma, she was always so excited to see me, she couldn’t even wait for me to sit all the way down in a chair to get in my lap and purr her GIANT purr. Maggie Mae was very vocal, she usually sounded mad, but I think that was just the way she talked.

When grandma broke her hip she had to go to a nursing home and Maggie came to live with us. She was not thrilled to be one of 9, she was much happier as an only kitty. She tolerated mostly all the kitties and us even. When the 3 gray kittens came to us, she would often be in the rafters in the garage. Jasper ADORED Maggie, wee bitty Jasper followed her up there somehow and Ian walked out just in time to see Maggie bat the heck out of wee Jasper and knock him down. Ian caught the little guy. For some reason from then on Jasper worshiped Maggie. He wouldn’t leave her. He’d run to get her at treat time, make sure she knew and wasn’t forgotten. He’d sleep out in the living room with her, since she wouldn’t come to bed with the rest of us. She was his girl!

We lost our darling Maggie Mae to cancer at 13 years old. Way too young.

My furfamily, Boo

Boo, also known as Lucky, then somehow became Boo. Our only all black kitty. I was at work, as a smoker I would go outside often. There were always a lot of ferals around. Mostly I’d see them but never got too near. One evening, I was out on the smoker’s patio and this little black kitty came RUNNING up to me TALKING, meow, meow, meowing. He had a lot to say, very insistent. I’d guessed he was maybe 6 months old. I picked him up and he loved me and I noticed a big gash on the inside of his hind leg. I couldn’t leave him there, he’d have become infected and die. So, home he came.

He rode home telling me his story the whole way, that was a long drive too, a good 45 minutes or an hour. He was the first new kitty to come to Ian and me. He was SO happy to have a home. He healed right up.

He was so funny, he’d wake with me in the mornings and follow me down the hallway chasing my feet, batting my ankles, every morning. He would do that to Bear too until Bear finally got tired of the wee baby Boo pouncing him and finally turned, grabbed Boo by the shoulders, dropped him back first to the floor and bonked him up and down until Boo got the message. LOL, it was SO funny, but Boo didn’t torment Bear anymore after that.

Boo was very vocal, he’d talk to you all the time. Poor baby, he got bladder crystals too and came and sat under our glass dining room table while we were eating dinner and said “MEOW” and tried to pee, nothing came out, I knew immediately this time what the problem was. Off to the vet he went, had to stay a few days, he was NOT happy about that. I would go visit him in the hospital, he’d perk up when he saw me, so happy and then was devastated each day I left and didn’t bring him home. I didn’t know what was worse, leave him alone thinking I’d left him, or visit and leave him each day. He was THRILLED to come home and never forgot. The few times he had to go to the vet after that through the years, he was so scared. I always had to tell him he was coming right back home.

Our sweet Boo, we used to call him Bulemic Boo, for we thought he’d scarf down his food so fast he’d toss it right back up again. We didn’t know that was an early sign of IBD. Ultimately, at 15 ½ we lost our sweet boy to IBD and its complications.

I loved the nick name our friend Lily gave him when it did truly fit him "Big Booty Boo".

My furfamily, Pepper

Pepper, turns out I stole her. She may have been the first kitty I stole, but she won't be the last. She was a neighbor’s kitty.

A teeny weeny all gray kitty with a wee white bib . She was on my patio in POURING rain looking desperate and alone an quite wet. I took her in. No one seemed to have lost a kitty, so I kept her, had her spayed, got her shots… months later my upstairs neighbor came to me and said “you stole my cat” – HUH? “You can keep her”… Good, I did.

Pepper was such a lover, when she'd stay indoors she was quite the snuggler. She loved the girls, Ian and me with as much vigor as she loved the outdoors.

Pepper was silly, she was not one to be indoors. I tried. She’d bust out screens to get outside, so I gave up and let her. There was a boat sales place across the street from us when we lived in the apartments. She must have moused over there or something. She’d go in the boats and sleep, but when I clicked the sliding door lock, she’d come a ‘runnin’ home.

One night, she didn’t. I couldn’t find her. I called, I clicked, no Pepper.

(So named for being all gray, like I said, I wasn't original in my ability to give names)

Then late that night I hear my bedroom screen, scared me, someone was trying to break in, it was Pepper.
How she knew that was my window in the row of identical looking windows, I don’t know. But that then became a habit, she’d busted out the corner of that screen so I locked my window open Pepper wide and she’d come and go through that hole in the screen.

She was a lover and a runner. When we moved to the house, we tried again to make her a house kitty. Wasn’t going to happen. She was quite the escape artist. Heartbreakingly, she was running across the street one night and didn’t make it. We didn’t live on a busy street, but she was all gray and someone hit her. My poor love was cut short at a very young age. I was devastated, as were we all. My neighbor came to tell me she was in the road.

She holds a very special place in our hearts, always will.