Talk about your kittehs!

[Menolly]

Hahaha, why don't we have a cat thread?

Ask and you shall receive!

[peter]

We have three - Rupert, Rosie and Daisy. Daisy is the mother of Rup and Rosie, but still acts like a kitten herself. Dais and Rose are almost miniature cats - but Rup is a big stropping boy. They bring light and joy into our lives and we love them inordinately, showering them with treats and generally bowing to their every whim. They have us completely wrapped around their paws!

[dlbpharmd]

We have 2, Jackson and Elena. Jackson is fat and lazy, Elena is petite and playful.

[Sorus]

What, no pics?

I figure most folks already know more than they want to about my brood.

[Linna Heartbooger]

I figure most folks already know more than they want to about my brood.

lol, but what we know so far is awesome!

[Avatar]

You can never know too much.

I don't bother naming our cats...they never come when called, and I'm pretty sure they don't have names among themselves.

Will dig out a couple of pics.

The female is a fluffy and mostly wild half-breed Maine Coon. She comes in most days to eat, but sometimes disappears for days at a time.

I always feel sorta bad, because she used to spend much more time with us, even sleeping indoors a few times a week, but when our little ginger male adopted us and moved in, she took it badly and has only slept indoors a couple of times in the last 2 years.

She doesn't much like other cats, and fights like a demon. Cost me a fair chunk in vets bills over the years.

The little ginger (well, he's not so little anymore...in fact, he might be getting a bit fat) turned up one day a couple years back.

He was abandoned by some family living nearby, because the first few times I saw him in the garden, he had a collar on, then suddenly it was gone, and within a week he was sleeping in my bed.

He's more of a homebody, but still insists on wandering most of the night. Also not averse to the odd fight.

To top it off, we've also suddenly been inundated by a couple of kittens owned by somebody in the next building over. One of them seems determined to make us her second home and is coming in every day to play with the GF who can't resist her.

The ginger isn't particularly happy about it, although they do seem to be getting on a bit better recently.

The other kitten (they're both less than a year old) is a bit more feisty, and seems to delight in harassing our male, but she mostly stays out of the flat.

Bloody cats.

--A

[peter]

We could increase our number also by operating an open house - but the finances (eg the vet bills Av mentions) demand that we are fairly strict in not encouraging visitors.... otherwise we'd have them all and the number would grow exponentially

[lorin]

This shouldn't be Kevin's Watch, it should be Kitty Watch. And on this note, it this turning into a site for crazy old cat people? Is the next thing banning dog owners?

[Sorus]

I don't bother naming our cats...they never come when called, and I'm pretty sure they don't have names among themselves.

Kara knows her name and will come when called. Pretty sure the other two know their names, but they'll evaluate whether it's worth their while to respond.

This shouldn't be Kevin's Watch, it should be Kitty Watch. And on this note, it this turning into a site for crazy old cat people? Is the next thing banning dog owners?

I absolutely am a crazy cat person, but the dog folks are welcome to make a thread of their own. I will even come and aww over the pics. I like dogs, but have never lived anywhere where I could have one.

[Avatar]

...is this turning into a site for crazy old cat people? Is the next thing banning dog owners?

I'm not old. Not very anyway.

--A

[aliantha]

The Watch has always been an ecumenical site, and I'm sure it will continue to be so.

I didn't have pets when I was growing up, but the ex did. So when the kids were small, we got a couple of cats. We adopted Squeaker from the shelter. She was a tuxedo cat, never very affectionate, but she had a purr you could hear two rooms over. She's the one who thought Wheat Thins were cat treats. And she loved to chase the beam of a flashlight -- even after she figured out where the light was coming from. She was 9, I think, when she died.

Pumpkin (a.k.a. Mr. Pumpin Kitty, Mr. P-boy Kitty, Trouble Boy, Tornado Boy, etc.) was an orange tabby. We got him as a kitten from the neighbors, who discovered their youngest was allergic to cats only after she'd had a litter. Pumpkin was a little skittish, but very friendly and just an awesome cat all around. I think he made it to age 9, too. Then he contracted cancer, and I didn't have the money for treatment. So we had him put to sleep. We all miss him.

Next was Fox (a.k.a. Foxy Baby). He was one of a litter of strays that came home from a trip my kids took with their dad and the Lovely Wife. Another orange tabby, but with some white splotches. Dumb as a box of rocks. I used to say that cat had nothing but a brain stem. Unfortunately, he was infected with feline leukemia when we got him, and only lived for about four years. We're lucky we made it that far -- most cats with the virus don't survive kittenhood.

Next came Morgan, a.k.a. the Lady Morgana. We got her from a rescue group. She is all white and quite a little diva. She's 11 now, I think. Or 12. I lose track...

And last but certainly not least is Tom, a.k.a. Tommy Wommy, Mr. Wommy, the Wommy Man, etc. He's a tuxedo cat and the biggest charmer ever -- and also a major pain in the butt. He just turned 10.

So we have two geriatric cats right now. And I have said, after these two go, no more for me. If the kids want another cat, they can move out...

[Avatar]

Yeah...no more pets. Too much hassle and heartache.

Just had a joyous morning struggle with my ginger. He was sitting on the wrong side of the busy road when I left for work, cheerfully watching the traffic go by.

When I crossed the road to grab him, he immediately ducked back through a fence where I couldn't reach him.

So I had to spend 15 minutes inveigling him close enough to grab him and drag him back through the fence to take him home.

What fun.

--A

[aliantha]

Don't you love it when they want to play games with you?

Here's a story that I may have told her before: One time when my brother-in-law was visiting us, I was walking through the living room toward the kitchen when I was suddenly tripped up by a cat. My b-i-l bursts out laughing. "What's so funny?" I ask. And he says the cat saw me coming and waited 'til the right moment to dash in and get underfoot. I'm sure it was hilarious if you weren't the person who almost fell...

And now that I'm telling the story, I find I can't remember whether the perpetrator was Pumpkin or Wommas. It would have been in character for either one.

One of my friends is quite the crazy cat lady. I think right now she has four, but she has had more in the past -- plus she works with a Siamese cat rescue group. She travels a lot for work, and Batty cat-sits/house-sits for her quite a bit.

[Sorus]

One of Phèdre's nicknames is Little Miss Underfoot. It was one of my ferals who was the worst for that though - my old place had no lighting in the hallway, and he liked to sprawl across the middle and wait patiently until you were juuuuust about to step on him before exploding out from underfoot.

[Cagliostro]

I don't have a cat now, and since my wife is allergic, may never again. But about the only cat truly in my life was referred to by a friend as "the Jack Nicholson of cats." He was named Captain Kit (hey, we were kids), and was part Siamese and part something else. He was a beautiful cat and didn't have the weirdness to the face or crossed eyes like a lot of Siamese cats I have seen. We never got him fixed, and he roamed the neighborhood for a fight or a lay. He came back scratched up occasionally and he definitely didn't take any crap from us, but he did let us feed him.
After he had gotten on in age, but still very much in control of his faculties, he disappeared during the last chunk of a very cold winter, and we figured we'd seen the last of him. Then, on the first warm spring day following, he reappeared completely emaciated and not looking well. We figured that he must have ended up in someone's garage and survived on what he could find for over a month. We fed him and he had trouble keeping it down, but eventually was doing a bit better. But he no longer cared for litter boxes and went wherever he wanted. My mom moved out of town and I moved in with my sister who didn't want him, so a friend of mine took him until his mom decided she didn't want to have to keep cleaning up his poop. My sister sadly had him put down.
One last story about Captain - after he came back and was starting to feel a bit better, I brought him down to my room as I wanted to pet and fuss over him for a while. He wanted out, but I closed the door on him. So I was sadly telling him how much we missed him and starting to tear up a bit, and he went to the door, lifted his tail, and sprayed, very purposefully, as if to say, "I don't care. Let me the hell out."
Grumpy Cat had nothing on Captain.

[Sorus]

Next was Fox (a.k.a. Foxy Baby). He was one of a litter of strays that came home from a trip my kids took with their dad and the Lovely Wife. Another orange tabby, but with some white splotches. Dumb as a box of rocks. I used to say that cat had nothing but a brain stem.

Sounds like Jherek, who once spent an entire afternoon trying to lick a shadow off the wall. I used to say his head was full of butterflies. He also had a bit of a foxy look about him. Perhaps they were related in some way.

[peter]

I love those big old wandering Toms with their fat faces and torn up ears. They do a circuit and sometimes disappear for months on end before reappearing in order to mop up any female's in heat in the area. One particular guy that hung around our neighbourhood for a brief while let us know in no uncertain terms that he considered himself the boss. If you met him on the path unlike most cats he didn't skidaddle. Instead he faced you down as if to say "come and have a go if you think you're hard enough!" E once tried to shoo him from the garden (he was bullying our cats) and he just turned and looked at her with contempt before walking off at his own pace. Now that's a Cat!

[deer of the dawn]

I had given up on cats in Africa because it is simply not a good place for them. But then we adopted Patches last year. She was about 14, and on her second family already (people have a way of leaving Nigeria). At first, she slept All. The. Time, but after deciding she was not going to stop using every corner of the house as a litter box we made her an outdoor cat. Since the weather rarely dips below the 60s it's not really a problem. She has a nice porch and sofa to live on.

Actually after kicking her outside, she became more active and looks younger and healthier. While she puts in a lot of hours sleeping on the porch, or on a table outside, she also does a lot of hunting. However she rarely leaves the compound, which is good, because outside there be cobras, feral dogs, and the odd Fulani who would not be above making a meal out of a cat.

If someone goes for a walk, she waits outside the gate until they come back. But that's about it for outside-the-fence wandering.

Patches loves to be petted, even on the stomach. She purrs like a kitten and drools when she is really in the spirit of getting loved on. She still bosses the dog around, although he is pretty pathetic so that's not saying much. It's hard to believe, looking at her, that she is 15 or more years old. She is a venerable old lady, for a cat, but still kickin' butt. I guess she is the Helen Mirrin of cats.

[Wosbald]

+JMJ+

We got 3. All indoor. All male.

All neutered.

Catbo - the original scaredy-cat, rejected by his mama when terribly tiny and who's carried the neurotic scars ever since.

Schmorrbert - the athletic, irrepressible troublemaker whose self-reliance makes him too-cool-for-school.

Orboz - the dim-but-loving creature who took a year to figure out that a certain door only swings open from one side.

[Sorus]

I love those big old wandering Toms with their fat faces and torn up ears. They do a circuit and sometimes disappear for months on end before reappearing in order to mop up any female's in heat in the area. One particular guy that hung around our neighbourhood for a brief while let us know in no uncertain terms that he considered himself the boss. If you met him on the path unlike most cats he didn't skidaddle. Instead he faced you down as if to say "come and have a go if you think you're hard enough!" E once tried to shoo him from the garden (he was bullying our cats) and he just turned and looked at her with contempt before walking off at his own pace. Now that's a Cat!

There was one in my old neighborhood - he was the father of 3 of my cats and probably of 90% of the feral cats in the neighborhood. I don't think he was feral himself - very aloof, but not timid, and always well-fed. I remember the first time I saw him - he was sitting on a fence with his back to me - grey spotted Manx - he was a good 25-30 lbs and that was mostly muscle. I froze because I was sure he was a bobcat, then he turned around and looked at me, and he had a regular tabby face. I wish I had a picture of him - he looked like a walking example of really bad Photoshop. Not sure if he was an actual hybrid or just a really buff tabby, but I've never seen another cat that looked quite like him.