Katie (full name: Kaitlyn Amber) was the sole survivor of a dumped litter of kittens. She was rescued by a little girl named Amber, hence the honorary middle name. I adopted her shortly before I started college, and she lived with my parents until I was in a situation where I could bring her with me.
She moved in with my husband and I after we bought our house. These days she is 14 years old. She’s a little creaky in the hips, and the goofy old thing likes to be fed at 6AM.
She comes into our room, stands on her hind legs and beats on the closet door to get us up! She’s a spoiled old thing, but she’s very sweet if somewhat stand-off-ish. She likes attention, as long as it is on her terms.
She comes into the bathroom to say good morning to me every morning. During the colder months she sleeps in bed with us, although she usually sleeps on my husband’s side of the bed, as she has learned from experience that I tend to kick in my sleep!
I didn’t find my cat – he found me :)
My niece and her friend found a litter of kittens abandoned in their neighborhood and brought them all home. By the time I went over to check them out little Tigger was the only one left so I took him home with me.
We have had him now for 9 years. He is an Orange Tabby that weighs about 15 pounds. He doesn’t like to cuddle or be picked up – unless of course it is on his terms. He is so predictable.
Every morning he comes into my room mewoing away trying to wake me up. If I try to ignore him he jumps up on me and bites my hand or elbow, whichever may be sticking out the blankets.
My husband states he doesn’t like cats but every once in awhile I will catch him laying in bed with Tigger petting him and snuggling with him. How cute is that!
Pookie (the cat) was left with me by a man who lived in the apartment downstairs in the duplex I live in. He found her as a kitten in the walls of the old building where he worked and took her home. An outdoor cat, she would “freak out” if she was closed into the house, so he kept her outside.
We live in Southern Florida so it doesn’t get ice or snow, but there was a small shed to which she had access in bad weather. Pookie was a long-haired cat, similar to a Maine Coon, who insinuated her way into my life by greeting me daily when I arrived home from work, sitting on the second floor stairs as I climbed up them. Meowing and rubbing against my legs, I found her hard to resist, even though I am very allergic to cats.
Unfortunately, my friend didn’t believe in spaying animals, so Pookie often had a litter of kittens and I would frequently toss and turn at night while listening to her howling or fighting off the males trying to get to her over our high fence. Because she wasn’t my cat, there wasn’t much I could do, but I did tell him to have her spayed at the Humane Society’s free program.
However, he just listened but didn’t do anything. One afternoon, I was sitting in my living room, watching TV, with the front door open. Normally Pookie would sit on the stoop and look at me through the open door but she would never come in, for fear of being closed in, I think. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement but thought it was my imagination.
Then it happened again. Still I saw nothing. But I heard a mewing coming from near my couch, looked down at the bookcase next to it, and there on the bottom shelf Pookie had deposited three newborn kittens! As I looked in surprise, she entered the room with a fourth in her mouth and deposited it alongside the others. I couldn’t believe she was entrusting me with her newborn babies, and not her owner.
I immediately called the veterinarian to find out what to do and he told me to get a basket, put a towel in it and put the kittens in it and place them on my covered stoop outside, because of my allergies. So I did that, and after a while Pookie put them in a safer place. Eventually Pookie’s owner had to move away but he couldn’t take her with him, so I told him I would take her, despite my allergies. The first thing I did was take her to be spayed.
She wasn’t happy about it because I had to put her in a carrier, which I knew would be a hassle. However, a few days before the appointment I put the carrier on the stoop and began placing a can of tuna nearby. Each day I put a can of tuna a little closer until the day of the spaying when I put one into the rear of the carrier. She went into it to eat the tuna and then I closed the door.
She yowled all the way to the hospital, despite my reassurances. However, I know life was better for her afterwards. Pookie was a survivor and stayed with me for many years until she died of cancer at a very old age. I mourn her still, because she was my gal pal and we loved each other.