One year anniversary

One year ago today, these two came to live with me.  Know variously as the "Terrible Tortie Twins" or the "Terrific Tortie Twosome" or another variation on "T" words, they have brought so much life and laughter to my otherwise-sorta-empty house!   I almost called them "Smidge" and "Smudge" (for the smudge of orange on her face), but cooler heads prevailed.  In retrospect, there could not be a more apt name for his one than "Sassy:"

And Smidgen:is still a wee one -- smaller and lighter than her big sister.

Sassy likes to help me sew. 

While Smidgen prefers to nap nearby.

 Both like to climb into things -- boxes, bags.... whatever

 

Smidgen also likes to burrow and "hide" under the newspaper.

 

While neither one is particularly outgoing -- probably because I was the only one in the house when they came here to live -- Sassy will eventually come out to meet guests, while Smidgen is more of a "momma's girl" who is quite skittish with other people until she becomes accustomed to their presence.  She loves to sit on my lap when I'm sewing by hand and chase the thread.  Not. Helpful. At. All.

However, there are times when I could swear that they are, in fact, simply one organism, split into two halves.  

They have never been separated for more than a few hours.  They groom each other, play together, and sleep together -- usually with Smidgen splayed out on her sister. 

By my count, they are my 13th and 14th cats since I adopted my first at age 20. Call me a crazy cat lady.  No denials here. I love them and hope to have many more years together. 

A Tale of Two Kitties

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Best: there are two new kittens in my house. Worst: we lost two long-time feline family members in 2011.   I was left with a single cat for the first time in ... well, let's just say "decades".   And, having been adopted into a home where two cats already lived, Tabbitha had never before been an "only" so she wandered around the house, lost and confused.  

As I've been staff (dogs have owners but cats have staff) to at least one cat since I was 20, I know that loss is inevitable.  I also know that (un)fortunately, there are almost always many eligible animals "out there" when the time feels right to seek another. Since each fur-kid has a unique personality and cannot be replaced, I had always let more time lapse between losing and adopting, but the emptiness of the house (and Tabbitha's neediness) nagged at me.  Consequently, I spent WAY more time than I should have perusing the websites of the local SPCAs, the listings of other cat/pet rescue groups, or postings from individuals with adoptable kittens.   I knew "kitten" was the only way to go, so that Tabbitha would more readily accept the newcomer(s).   Of course, I started out thinking "kitten" -- singular.  Little did I know...

My daughters and I agreed that another all black or orange tabby would not be the best choice, as our memories of Charcoal and Mustard are too fresh and comparison would be inevitable.  I've always had a soft spot for tortoise-shell cats, but was also open to black & white or gray & white (tuxedo or otherwise).

As I was plotting out a Saturday trek through three counties to look at kittens in several shelters, I discovered a listing for a home in Fort Washington where a litter that included two torti sisters was being fostered.   Excitedly, I made an appointment to go see them the next night and forwarded the photos to my daughters.  Unhappily, the next day, the foster "mom" emailed that someone else had come the night before and decided to take both of them.  I was so-o-o-o disappointed that I hadn't even gotten to see them!   But, as fate would have it, the day after, another email arrived informing me that the original adoption plan had fallen through and they were still available!   I was THERE that evening, and, even before I saw them, I began to think of the reasons to take the pair.

So ten days ago, I took the tiny cat carrier -- big enough for both of them -- and brought them home to stay.  They are easy to tell apart.  One has a streak of orange on her face, as well as a small spot on her neck and on a couple of paws. She's adventurous and brave, usually the leader of the scouting party when they decide to explore some heretofore unknown area of the house.   And she has the typical torti-attitude.  Hence her moniker: Sassy.

The other is the tiniest one of the litter -- visibly smaller than her sister -- and is a totally brindled-torti, with just a splash of orange on one paw.  Her eyes are rimmed with lighter fur giving her the wide-eyed look of a reverse raccoon!   Since she's such a mite of a thing, she has been named "Smidgen." She looks so innocent, but don't believe it for a minute as she's always right behind her sister in their expeditions around the house.

We're having a good time getting to know one another.  Tabbitha is mostly unimpressed, while they are a little wary of the large fluffy one.

They have begun to "sleep" with me.  If you can call racing around chasing each other, pouncing any time my legs moved under the covers, crawling under the quilt to box with each other (and tickle me in the process),  using me as an obstacle course, and playing "Queen of the Hill" with me as the hill, "sleeping".  But eventually, they settle and, if  I wake up at night, I find them curled up side-by-side, in the crook of my arm.  Fingers crossed that I get at least a part-time lap cat eventually.

Good-bye to my handsome guy

My orange cat, Mustard, is gone.  In about a week, he went from pretty healthy for an old guy to dehydrated and not eating to diagnosed with diabetes to unable to move around at all AND not eating or drinking.  There was probably something else going on too, since his belly was bloated.  But I'll never know.

Mustard was a gift to D#1 for her 3rd birthday.  We'd lost a cat to cancer not long before and a friend asked if it would be ok.  She turned 21 this past July, so he was well over 18 years old.  Calling her to tell of his swift decline and loss was deeply painful for both of us, as he meant so much to her.  This photo of Mustard and the one remaining cat, Tabbitha (who really "belongs" to D#2), shows them engaged in their favorite pastime: synchronized sleeping. 

Of all the cats I've had over 4 decades, I only ever had 2 that weren't shelter cats or strays.  He was one of them.  He never knew a life where he wasn't loved and cared for.   I held him on my lap, talked to him, and petted him up until the end.  I'd like to think he still felt loved even then.

Farewell, my lovely

On Sunday, January 9th, 2011, we lost a loving and beloved member of the family, our precious cat, Charcoal.  Though she was a part of our family for over 15 years, we can never know her exact age.  She was a stray who wandered into our Ohio backyard in the summer of 1995, when my daughters were 5 and 3 years old.   This tiny black feline -- who weighed no more than 6 pounds at any time in her life -- brought love into the lives of our family and friends in inverse proportion to her size.

We called Charcoal "the cat who thinks she is a dog", a dog who never met a person she didn't love at first sight.  She would greet strangers and friends alike at the door, rubbing against them, pleading with her eyes to be petted (at least) or, ideally, picked up and cuddled.  When she was held, she would creep up to lie on the person's shoulder and purr into his/her ear.  Her purr was industrial-strength and could be heard across the room.  I cannot count the people who told me over the years, "If you ever want to get rid of that cat, just let me know."  My response was always the same, "Get in line, but don't wait for a call, since she's not going anyplace."   Several friends used to joke about smuggling her out under their coats, given her diminutive size.  So we laughingly instituted firm security policies upon their exit.

When workmen came to the house, she not only greeted them but was there to help.  Sounds didn't scare her, so, amazingly, she sat and watched while the chimney cleaner used his loud vacuum, or the plumber worked in the bathroom.  Sometimes, I had to confine her in another room to keep her from either being in the way or getting accidentally hurt, as she was determined to be in the middle of the action, and near the people.

The decade and a half we had together brought, predictably, both joy and sadness.  When my daughters were small, they would put her in their plastic toy shopping cart, throw a blanket on top of her, and race around the house with her as a passenger.  Always well-tempered and loving, she never objected and, when she had her fill of riding, she'd just hop out of the cart and find a place away from the action.  Always smaller-than-average, but healthy, her worst medical crisis was caused, ironically, by getting routine checkups.  When she was about 10, she developed VAS (vaccine-associated sarcoma) in her neck after an incompetent vet gave her rabies injection there.  Extensive surgery was required and for several years following, we were on the lookout for a recurrence.  Fortunately, she remained cancer-free for the rest of her life. 

Charcoal always slept with me.  For many years, she was the 3rd presence in the queen-sized bed, and then, when my husband moved out, she kept me company.   It was always a mystery to me how firmly such a little thing  could confine me to a given position!   She would pin me down by nestling above the covers in whatever small space was present between my legs, effectively preventing me from shifting without moving her along with the blankets.  I often sleep on my side, and she would perch on my all-too-generous hip and settle in there -- sometimes with her head so close to mine that she was purring almost directly into my ear.   Does a sound exist that is more peaceful than the soft, constant purr of a contented cat?

My brother wrote in an email to my younger daughter, "You had one of the greats of the feline world!"   There are no truer words for her epitaph.  We look forward to seeing her again at the Rainbow Bridge, where all our beloved lost pets wait.