It was a good life

Even now, almost a month after I said my final goodbye to this brave and wonderful cat, it is hard to look at her picture without a tug of emotion pulling at my heart.

I get a little choked up just thinking about her and the life she led. If she was human, we would say she was "special needs." She had much to overcome in her life, not the least of which was her name, Junior. I also called her Bug or Boo, which was much more fitting.

She was one of five kittens born on a hot summer day on the front porch on the 11th of July 2007. As near as I can recall, she wasn't the last born, but was third in succession. The litter turned out to be all female, a fact I didn't know when I named them all after my favorite NASCAR drivers. The runt of the litter, Rusty, lived only 11 days. And then there were four.

I was in love with them all and couldn't conceive of the notion of giving any of them away, though that had been the plan. We also had her mother, Timi, who made me so very proud that day.

I knew Junior was different right after her birth. She had a broken right front paw. I learned that sometimes kittens are born with a birth-related injury which can be overcome with proper care. So, when she was a mere kitten, I wrapped her foot, using a tiny splint to keep it straight. I soon learned that it wasn't just crooked, that her paw was indeed malformed. She had only two toes on that foot. It didn't seem to bother her though. She got around as well as her litter mates. She walked with a strange gait on her three good legs. She could run, jump, and do anything they did. In fact, she was a follower in those early years. Her sisters didn't have much to do with her, but she followed them anyway. She obviously wanted to be just like them. It was actually a beautiful thing to watch.

She was the last to be weaned. She found great comfort in being by her mother, but after the others were weaned, her mother decided she had had enough. Timi was a good mother, despite the fact that she wasn’t much more than a kitten herself. She was like the teenage girl who got pregnant on the first date. Finally, I had to step in to separate Boo from her mother who was growing very impatient with her. That relationship remained strained throughout Boo’s life. Timi was an inside/outside cat who had better things to do than play with her kids. That was my job. And, it was one I relished. I spent the first six months of their lives on my belly, on the floor. I grew to love these girls instantly.

When I took the kittens and their mom to the vet to be spayed, I learned that Boo’s entire right side was malformed. When I picked them all up after the surgery, the vet gave me Boo and told me, "This one has some parts missing."

And so it went with our little Boo. She was smaller than the others. She was often sickly, with respiratory difficulties. She often got a runny nose and gunk in her eyes, and labored breathing, like she had a bad cold. Sometimes, I would wrap her in a towel with a hot water bottle so she could sleep through the night. She developed a slight tremor, almost like a Parkinson’s patient, but she always soldiered on.

Sister Buddies - Ryan and Junior

Her sisters tended to pick on her at first, but not for long. Kenni and Kasey had little to do with her. Both are twice her size. In fact she and Kasey were like oil and water. Junior would often like to cuddle with one of her sisters. Only Ryan, the first born allowed it. The others growled and hissed at her. It didn’t sway her though. She would often walk right up to them sleeping on my bed, which they claimed for their own, and plop right on top of them. Boo was fierce, the toughest of the bunch. It got to the point that if anyone was sitting on my lap, even her mother, Junior would make them leave. She would growl and hiss until she got her way. Finally, whoever it was would leave while she settled in all proud of herself. She was definitely a scrapper. Only Ryan, admittedly my favorite of the bunch, would let Boo cuddle with her. Ryan seemed to sense when Boo needed a friend, and she was mostly always there. Boo pushed even Ryan’s limits sometimes.

Junior loved sitting in a basket

Junior wasn't necessarily a cuddly cat for most of her life. She would perch upon John's lap and he would pet her, but that all changed within the last few years. I'm not sure when, but she began to seek me out. I didn't just pet her like he did; I would pick her up and snuggle her close to me. She seemed to need that. She loved being held close, melting her body next to mine and purring as loud as any cat I've ever heard. She began following me around from room to room. She was always with me. She and Ryan became my two favorites. They were both snugly and cuddly, while the other two were more standoffish.

The last few months, Boo developed some neurological issues, perhaps from a stroke or seizure. One day, she was near her water dish, crying. It was a sound unlike anything I had ever heard her make before. Then she became quiet and lay on the floor. She didn’t move a muscle; she didn’t even move her eyes. I thought she was dead. For several long minutes, she just lay there. Then, she got up like nothing was wrong and was her old self again. Then she began to develop severe respiratory issues. I took her to the vet on a Thursday in February. She got three shots, an anti-biotic, a steroid, and a vitamin shot. She wasn’t eating and she had sores on her tongue. That Saturday, I observed that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She was weak, was losing weight, which she could ill-afford and just lay on a rug in the kitchen. I tried some canned pumpkin and warm milk, but she wouldn’t eat any of it. Then I gave her some liver sausage. She gobbled it up, like nothing was wrong. The next morning, she was feeling better. When I got up she came to the hallway to greet me. She appeared fine, like her old self. I fed the girls and Boo ate as she always had. She was her old self again. I called her my miracle cat. That lasted for a couple of weeks, but then her health began to deteriorate again. I made the decision to do the humane thing, so I took her to the vet for a last ride. I put her into a wooden picnic basket with a baby blanket that my late Aunt had crocheted for my daughter, about 40 years ago. And, I said my last goodbye.

I will never forget my Boo. It was a joy and my distinct pleasure to know her. There will never be another cat like her.

New toy for the girls

Cats have such a happy life, where everything is fun!

Since we just bought new furniture, we thought we would give it a fighting chance, protecting it from the plethora of cat claws we have in our house. So, we recently gave the girls a new scratching post. You would have thought they had never seen one before. Silly me--I thought a scratching post was rather utilitarian. In reality, it is just another cat toy. But then, isn't everything?

Kasey is so aloof
She is also the resident Fraidy Cat

The video at right, reveals the real personalities in three of our four cats. Kasey isn't in it, since she is nowhere to be found at the moment. Wait til she finds out her sister are going to be movie stars and she is left out. I can see the pouty look on her face already. Kasey is generally such a Fraidy Cat. The fourth born, she always follows behind her sisters, never taking that first step. She has apparently seen that no harm has come to them, because she certainly has gone after  that scratching post with a real fervor.

Ryan is the adventurous one. Though Ryan looks very much like Kasey--in fact we call them twins--she is very different. She is the first to try anything. As afraid as Kasey is, Ryan is just the opposite. She is fearless. We named her after Ryan Newman, my favorite NASCAR driver whose nickname is Flyin' Ryan, named for how he drives around a racetrack. That moniker fits his namesake. This cat climbs to the top of everything she sees--the bedroom door, the top of the window, the top of our seven-foot bookcase, etc. 

Then there is Junior, a.k.a. The Bug. She is the smallest, sweetest and most innocent-looking one of the bunch. She was born with a deformed right front paw, so she hobbles on three legs most of the time. She also has a tendency to be a loner, and is seemingly less healthy than her sisters. She is also the most affectionate. She likes to snuggle, with any of her sisters, with me, or with our dog, Shadow, a rescue dog who makes a slight appearance at the end of the video. Shadow and Junior are buddies, although he doesn't really get along with the others consistently. Junior's looks are deceiving. While she looks like a little angel, she can be an attack cat. It is difficult to imagine by looking at her, but she is the bully of the bunch. If she wants a space, for example and one of the others is there, she will chase them away and take it for herself. There are fights, but Junior usually wins them.

Then there is Kenni, the second born. Kenni is far different from the others. If Kenni was a human, she'd be a linebacker. Nuff said. Yet she is a gentle giant. She loves to play. Drag a string along and she will follow you anywhere. 

These cats were born on our front porch. Their mother Timi was a stray that adopted us. She comes in to eat with her kids every morning, as well as whenever she gets the urge. She is an outside cat that spends plenty of time inside. Timi gave birth to the girls on July 11, 2007. It was love at first site. I couldn't part with any of them, so husband John and I have allowed them in to fill our empty nest and our hearts. They bring us joy and laughter. 

This is my first YouTube Video.

Not on a plane, but how about snakes in the yard and on the porch

I didn't have snakes on a plane, but I had snakes in the yard and even one on the porch. For me, it was just as unnerving.

We noticed Timi fussing with something in the mint plants

What started out as a quiet afternoon when my husband and I were just sitting, talking on the porch, we noticed our cat Timi, enthralled with something in the garden. I figured it was the frog that had been creaking loudly for days. Come to think of it, I didn't hear it anymore. 

When I crept over to her, I heard a sound unfamiliar to me. Upon closer inspection, I saw a long black tail. Then as my eyes followed the figure, I realized it was a black snake--the kind I'm not supposed to be afraid of. Hah! This guy was as big around as my wrist. I looked all the way to the other end of the garden before I saw his other end. I was not happy. I tried breaking Timi's concentration; fat chance of that. I told my husband I didn't like having a snake in my flowers. If I didn't know he was there, and I was pulling weeds, I would have surely had a heart attack. 

"I don't want him there," I told him. He probably didn't hear me because he was laughing so hard, but I urged him to get the hose to at least squirt water at him to make him go back to whatever hole he crawled out of. 

By this time, our interest had deterred Timi and she started leaving. Maybe it was the word, 'water' that did it.

Bob was all curled up, probably weary of Timi's games

When John aimed the hose, Bob, the name we gave him and all snakes, as a matter of fact, started getting uncomfortable. Instead of moving away from the water, he began moving toward it. I had my camera, but I was more sissy than photographer at that moment, so I didn't get my movie. This would have been a great You Tube video. Oh well. I went completely the other way. So did John. He wasn't expecting Bob to come our way either. Bob slithered his way onto the porch. John kept spraying. He finally got to the end of the porch near the front door. By this time I was far away. I left myself enough space that I would be safe no matter which way Bob decided to go. What I wasn't prepared for was his practically standing up right next to our front door, seemingly looking for a way out of his dilemma and possibly into our house.  

"Oh no you don't," John said, squirting feverishly. He just related that Bob was at about the five feet off the ground mark. I didn't see that--thank goodness. I can't even think about what would happen if that serpent had made his way into our house. I bet our four cats would have enjoyed that. 

By this time, Timi had completely lost interest. She was onto bigger and better things--chasing lizards or something. She figured she had her fun terrorizing Bob and now it was our turn. Too bad Timi didn't realize we were on the receiving end of the terror. 

Bob did not like being squirted in the face so he retreated off the porch, not far from where my rocking chair sits. I have spent many a peaceful moment in that chair. No more! I'll always wonder if Bob is plotting revenge. 

Once all this commotion was done, John and I took our seats and talked about how unhappy I was to have seen such a huge monster in the peace of my front yard and on the porch of all places. 

All of a sudden we see Timi, at another garden. Oh no, deja vu! Sure enough, she was slapping at another snake, about the same size as Bob. John and I just looked at each other, wondering if that was the same snake. Couldn't be. While Bob was on the front porch I was watching intently. He would have had to pass me to get to the other garden. I knew that didn't happen. I think I would have noticed. This had to be a second snake, about the same size as the first. 

Here's Timi seeking out Bob 2

Timi kept slapping her paw at it. I heard that same noise--it was rattling its tail. I looked it up. Black snakes will rattle their tail like a rattlesnake, although they aren't venomous. Finally, Timi must have made some contact, because Bob 2 wiggled his way through the garden, into an open area, and into the woods. Timi followed for a while and then gave up. She found a quiet spot on a bench and went to sleep. We were far less calm.

We have lived here almost ten years and I have only seen a few snakes. Yesterday I saw two in one day. I have no idea what that means, but I'm hoping history never repeats itself. 

John got out the snake repellent and dusted the perimeter of the gardens and the porch. It is all used up now, so a trip to the garden center is in the plans.

A little while later, I insisted on breaking up a big pile of leaves next to the porch to make sure Bob was gone. He was. I got a long pointed hoe and ruffled up those leaves, ever so gingerly. Bob had disappeared as quickly as he had come.