August 1999

Each of my four kitties came to me in a special way.

When my first cat died, (George or Morris because he was an orange cat--he really had two names! and who was my faithful friend for 15 years, always being the first one who greeted me at my door as I got home) I was already on my way to caring for my next kitty.

George (or Morris) died in August 1990. He was 15 years old and I loved him dearly too and missed him a lot. Two weeks before he died I found Little Felix (as I named him - because of, well?..Felix the Cat cartoon!). That's one of my pet names for him, "Little Felix" (ha! "pet" name!). I love him so but he lately has a habit of spraying; not often, but occasionally and I think it's when he's excited (like when I get home!). He's a black and white cat.

Felix is my special honeysuckle. That's what I say to him and he is clever, and can retrieve toys and bring them back to me when I throw them, and he understands English (like when I say "Where's that thing" he starts looking for it. It's a little orange fuzz ball. It's one of the toys he brings back to me when I throw it.) When I say, "Cherries?" he knows what that is, because while I eat black cherries, he likes to pick them out of the bowl by their stems. Even when I say "Cherries?" and don't have any in the house, he comes running toward me looking for them.

Of course he especially understands, and looks at me, when I say "Want cat food?"

I found him - and I'm sure it was meant to be - in August 1990 two weeks before George (or Morris) died. I was driving from my brother's house and going to visit my parents. Felix - a little kitten - was crossing the road right in front of me as I was driving and I HAD to stop or I would have run over him. So I pulled over to the side of the road, picked him up and he started rubbing his head against my face. Well, then I knew we had to be together.

I actually drove to a farm house nearby to ask them if the kitty belonged to them. No one was home so I left little Felix there thinking he likely belonged there. Now this next thing - can you believe it? As I was driving away, down the laneway, and looked back at Felix, he was RUNNING toward me, following my car! Well, oh dear, I definitely had to keep him. It was like a scene from a "Lassie" movie.

So I brought Felix with me to my parents. They didn't want him either but Mom gave me some food for him and she said to leave him at the farm house anyway, with the food. So I said I might do that, and I actually really didn't want to in a way. And when I left their house that night, taking Felix with me, it was raining. I couldn't leave him outside in the rain. I brought him home with me and he's with me for life!

For the first night I had him, I could hear him breathing all night and sniffing around my room all night. He had to be treated for that breathing problem and I always think that I was able to save him just in time before he got one of those respiratory cat diseases that are fatal.

Felix is a beautiful honey kitten. Of course he's 9 years old now! Wow, I got him 9 years ago this month!

Samantha is so Glamorous. She's just gorgeous. She's so pretty! These are "pet" phrases I use when talking to her.

She understands too when I say "want cat food?".

I found Samantha in July, 1993. The company I work for moved to another city so I had to find a house in that city. In one of the houses I looked at was a cat (Samantha, as I named her), who was kept in the basement with the door shut.

She was skinny and mostly bald and likely was starving most of the time. She had little bite marks on her as if she had been bitten by a dog with sharp teeth. The basement smelled of cat urine and the litter box had not been cleaned out for many days. When the realtor showed me the basement, Samantha even ran up the stairs, much like I see her doing today, scared of us I suppose (but she's not scared of me today!). I had to pick her up and take her back to the basement.

As I left her, she looked at me in such a sad way that I was sure she was asking me to take her with me.

As I drove back home that night, which took me an hour, I cried thinking about her condition in that house and remembering her looking at me and wanting me to take her, and I knew I had to ask the owners if they wanted to keep her, or give her away.

I had to call the realtor, to ask for the owner's phone number, then I had to phone the owner who was now in a different city, so I had to call long distance.

Anyway, I never did buy that house, but the owner, who spent most of the week in another town, said her daughter was supposed to have been taking care of the cat, but she was mostly constantly away with her boyfriend. So the cat was alone - the owner in another city, the daughter staying with her boyfriend, and no one caring for the cat. I asked the owner if she wanted Samantha or wanted to give her away. She said she'd give her away if I wanted her. Yes! I took her.

I took her right from that smelly, full-of-fleas house to the Vet. They spayed her and treated her for a flea allergy.

That explains why she had no fur, and had little bite marks on her.

As I carried her to my car from the Vet after her operation and treatment for fleas, she let go a little urine right onto my pants. I guess she was happy to leave there and now felt comfortable enough to let herself go! I had to go back to use the Vet's bathroom to wash it off my pants. It didn't matter!

Well in a few weeks Samantha bloomed into a Gorgeous white angora, or at least mostly persian cat - - when she sheds her fur, she loses long strands of hair! Really. But only a few strands of hair at a time. She's no longer bald.

She loves to be scratched, and petted and brushed and she'd let you do this for days on end if you wanted to!

In August 1994 I found Serena. She was a little black kitten I saw in my back yard. When I went to pick her up, she ran away.

A few hours later when I was in my pool I heard a kitten mewing in the ditch behind my back yard. I went to call over my fence, "Kitty kitty" but she wouldn't come to me, she just stopped mewing. So I left her alone, not being able to see where she was at all, just hearing her, and that was all I could do. A few minutes later I heard the mewing again, but since I couldn't find her, and she wasn't coming to me, I thought nothing more about it and went back into my house. However, obviously she was scared, and hungry.

The next night, in the evening, I STILL heard her mewing but her sounds were fainter now. I thought she's losing strength and I better get in the car and go look for her. I parked the car along the ditch, and walked and walked trying to find her. She wasn't mewing now so I thought she's scared of me, so she won't mew now.

After a little bit, I heard her mewing but she was actually mewing from a yard that was across the road from the ditch that I was at. This road was a 4 lane busy street! That explains why her mews sounded fainter. She was now further away from my back yard - a whole 4 lane street away now.

I always thought of how lucky this little 4 week old kitten was to survive crossing a busy 4 lane street.

So I went to the yard I heard her mewing at, and knocked on the door of the house there. I told the woman who answered the door that I can hear a kitten. She came outside and heard it too. We saw Serena in the bushes in front of the house. She was so scared, and ran. She ran into the garage and we had to corner her to get her, and it's not easy to pick up a kitten when it's as scared as she was. The lady said she didn't want any more cats because she had one, so I decided I'd keep her, considering all the things that happened that caused me to finally get her in my arms. The woman put Serena into a little box and I brought her home and took care of her; a little 4 week old black kitten that I ended up caring for as she grew.

She always hides when I have visitors. No one's really seen her but me (well, almost). My pet phrase to say to her is, "Serena, her scared of people". (I like to talk in silly ways with the kitties).

When I say, "want cat food?" she says 'Mew', 'Mew', 'Mew'!!

In October 1996, Tabatha became mine.

She was born on Mother's Day, May 12, 1996 to a cat owned by my friend. I helped her advertise that she was giving away kittens. I even advertised in the newspaper where I lived, and where I lived was one hour away from my friend's house. Someone phoned me and asked if they could have the kitten. We were sure it was a male and this woman wanted a male. When the time came for me to deliver the kitten to this woman, I picked up the kitten at my friend's house, and drove the one hour to my city to deliver the kitten . During the one hour drive I began to feel so close to the kitty asleep in my lap. So close to the kitty was I that I cried before taking the kitty from my car to the woman's house who was going to take the kitty. I really didn't want to give it away then, and considered keeping it, but the woman had asked for this kitten.

I had pictures of this kitten right from the day it was born up until the time I had to give her away. I believe it was July 1996 that the woman got the kitty. She's the first kitty I've had where I was there a few hours after she was born!

Every time I passed this woman's house, I always wondered how the kitty was. That kitten felt so special to me for some reason that I couldn't explain. She's a grey and orange tortoise-shell kitty, and the orange on her always made me think she could be re-incarnated from my first cat, the orange one I had - George (or Morris).

Well, on Hallowe'en night in 1996 I went out during the evening at the time kids are trick-or-treating. I decided to drop in to this woman's house and see the kitty. When I got there she said to me "I was going to call you. This isn't a male cat, it's female. I wanted a male. Hold on and I'll get her for you". Well she gave me Tabatha, and I kept her, half-thinking I kind of wanted her anyway, all this time. Besides, this woman's home conditions were no place for a cat. There was no back-door window, the house was a shambles inside and out. I gave her the name of Tabatha and she was now mine!

My pet phrases with her are "Tabatha sleepy? Tabatha play? Her want more food. Tabatha, her so friendly". You see she gets up on her hind legs so I will rub her head - it's like a friendly greeting. And regarding the f ood, she's the biggest cat of my four cats. She loves food!

And yes when I say to her, 'want cat food?' she meows, just like most cats do!

So I had Felix named after the Felix - the - Cat cartoon; Samantha was named because my friend (who's cat is the one who Tabatha was born to!) had a dog named Samantha and I liked the name for a cat; then ?..well?..because of the TV series 'Bewitched', I kept using names from that show, and I decided the black kitty would be 'Serena' (on that TV show Serena has black hair); and my fourth kitty was named Tabatha.

And as Lucille Ball says on "I Love Lucy", in "Courtroom" episode:

"And that's what really happened".

These stories have made me so emotional writing them up - as I'm writing about my pals that were sent to me as it was meant to be.

I love them all.

Mikey