This little guy was found at the truck stop, starved and with the skin avulsed off his lower jaw. Probably thrown out of a vehicle. I now have a menace in the shop, he’s always underfoot but learning. Few more months and he‘ll be less of a devil.
We've got 4 indoor kitties. Two from the pound and two from the front yard. And we have 3 outdoor cats that refuse to be indoor cats. Plus a dozen bird/squirrel feeders. Deer, raccoons, possums and half a dozen or so Sandhill Cranes.
But that is one cute kitten. Lucky you for finding and rescuing such a handsome boy!
I had a shop cat for a couple of weeks. She hid from me. I knew she was in the shop but never saw her. She used the litter box and ate her food but never came out of wherever it was that she was hiding. Then she decided to use my car cover as a scratching post. She went back to being a ferral cat. I see more of her now than I did when she was "mine".
Phoenix. That that was an apt name seeing from where he was to now. He was so bad we were going to put him down, but didn’t because he’s such a fighter.
He‘s not scared of anything. He got rolled by one of the big cats (who are not happy) jumped right up and went back fore more. They are still working out territorial issues, but that’s there problem he is staying!
Early last January, I adopted a badly frost-bitten old (12+?) lady cat who had been living rough under a gas station shed.
Her black feet peeled and healed in the next few weeks, she lost the top half of her left ear. That all must have been really painful.
She's very quiet, doesn't claw the furniture, doesn't raise hell. Lots of hip and shoulder massage (arthritis, maybe?), brushing is a highlight of the day. She's now an "indoor" cat with good foods, clean water, a big litter box and a big house to roam around in, sleep where ever she likes. Always warm and dry and lots of windows to watch "Bird TV" in the house grape vines.
My 18 yr old cat died back last October. She had become such a little habit around the place. Runt of the litter, I should think. I found it hard to live in a big empty house again. I put the word out and the local society had trapped this cat. Just at the right time. They guessed at her age, they guessed that she had been a pet, not feral just badly frightened and maybe even spayed.
Now, according to the poet, T.S. Eliot, cats have a naming process. Kept secret from people.
Unlike many shelter cats, this one had no name, nobody knew where she might have come from, nobody wanted her.
So with great ceremony and a big stiff drink for me, I named her "Rumpuss." So here we are. Nine months and all is well.
The fat cat on the mat
may seem to dream
of nice mice that suffice
for him, or cream;
but he free, maybe,
walks in thought
unbowed, proud, where loud
roared and fought
his kin, lean and slim,
or deep in den
in the East feasted on beasts
and tender men.
The giant lion with iron
claw in paw,
and huge ruthless tooth
in gory jaw;
the pard,[note 1] dark-starred,
fleet upon feet,
that oft soft from aloft
leaps on his meat
where woods loom in gloom--
far now they be,
fierce and free,
and tamed is he;
but fat cat on the mat
kept as a pet,
he does not forget.
I’ll tell you, I’ve seen a lot of rescues and they rarely give any trouble. This may sound strange, but in some way I think that’s how they show appreciation. Most of the dogs become very devoted to the rescuer.
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