Wegie Is Home

Wegie is Mama M's current cat, now three years old. She is a muted calico and white Norwegian Farm Cat. Distinctive characteristics include tufts in her ears and on the pads of her four feet and a bushy tail as long as her body. She can run with the tail straight up; reputedly the Norwegian Farm Cat is the only one who can do that.

Her cry is the softest Mama M has ever heard, and Wegie uses it only when she is excited that her breakfast in being readied and finally carried to her placemat. The only other time Mama M heard the cry was as a call for attention uttered from the bedroom doorway--only once in a year!

Wegie is a lap cat to challenge all lap cats. She loves to settle in Mama M's lap and sleep, either crossways of the lap or curled up with head on Mama M's legs. She can stay in the lap for hours. Her other sleep spots are among the blinds across the doors to the deck and on the counter in "her" bathroom, which is her bed at night.

The Long Journey I and II, by Kitty

When Mama M moved about 10 miles across town from west to east, she could not take the carport cats with her--obviously because they would not let her even touch them. So she with sadness left them at their home by the river. She did, of course, take Masky and Grisslie, the tame house cats.

She moved into her new house on February 2, 1999. On February 1, 2000, Patches from the river showed up on the new deck and looked nose to nose through the glass door at Masky. (Remember, Masky was her little sister.) 

Mama M saw her and hurried outside with a dish of food. She set the dish on the deck, but Patches would not come over and never ate the food. The next day Patches was on the deck again, but again she would not come near Mama M or the food. By the following day, she was gone. 

A year later Babe, one of the white cats from the river, showed up on the deck, nose to nose through the glass door with Masky. Mama M was amazed. Obviously, Patches, having found the new house after a year's trek across town--with no reason or logical way to know where Mama M had gone--had returned home and told Babe where she and Masky were and how to get there. Two long journeys on cat intuition! 

The Talking Cat, by Kitty

A stroke of luck came Mama M's way: A man who had adopted a yellow-and-white Persian while in college 10 years before had just learned that his 4-year-old daughter was allergic to cats. He told a friend he was looking for a new home for the cat, and the friend told Mama M, and Grisslie became her love.

The love was mutual. Grisslie would even insist that Mama M go to bed when he was ready to occupy the other side. One night when his insistence began at 9 o'clock, Mama M asked him, "Two more hours? Please?" She swears Grisslie replied, "Two more hours." (Think about it: Those words could come out of meows.)

Whenever Mama M went out of town for more than 3 days, she would board Grisslie (and Masky) at the vet's. When she would pick them up, the receptionist always reported that Grisslie "talked" all the time. 

After picking him up after the last time he boarded, Mama M let Grissle out of the carrier as usual, but he hurried to lie on the foot of the bed, where he stayed, mewing. Mama M petted him, but he was not responsive. All of a sudden he let out a loud moan and leaped off the bed. 

Mama M called the vet and rushed Grisslie back. The vet found that Grisslie's bladder was blocked. He worked on the cat all night and called Mama M the next morning to say that he had gotten him unblocked but he was blocked again. "He needs surgery," the vet said.

"No," replied Mama M. "Not at age 19." The vet suggested Mama M come see Grisslie one last time; so she did. She stroked her love and spoke gently to him, then left him to be put to sleep.

It was a sad parting, but she and the loving cat had enjoyed each other for a good life.

Tree-Climber Becomes Homebody, by Kitty

Tiger's little sister, another of Little Bit's kitties, was a domestic long-hair, mainly white but with two huge patches of black on her back and black bands around her eyes that descended down her nose and rose between her ears and on down the back of her head. Thus, she was called Mask, or more affectionately, Masky.

Masky was a friendly kitten. Though born outdoors, she was comfortable both indoors and out--until she discovered she could climb tall pine trees. One day Mama M had to get a gentleman neighbor to bring a ladder and ascend to fetch Masky out of a pine. 

A few days later, Masky climbed an even taller pine with fewer limbs. Fortunately, another cat had climbed a neighboring tree, and Mask watched as that one backed down the tree trunk like a cat is supposed to do. And, lo and behold, Mask backed down from her tree, too!

But Mama M had had enough. She took Masky to the vet to be declawed and then established her as an indoor cat only. Her tree climbing career ended, and she became a full-time member of the family!

Tiger Dies, by Kitty

Tiger was waiting in the carport for his dinner when Mama M looked at him compared to the other cats and realized that he was getting thin. So she loaded him into the cat carrier and into the car and drove to one of the closest vet offices. There the doctor on duty drew blood and told Mama M she would call when tests were complete and she could make suggestions about treatment.

The next day Mama M was petting Tiger outside when she heard the telephone ring. She hurried in and answered. 

"Tiger's kidneys are failing," the doctor said. "We can't cure him, but we can give him medicine to relieve pain." 

Mama M said that she would think about it and call back. Then she went outside to see Tiger. He was nowhere to be found. And he never returned. Somehow the sweet orange tabby knew his time on earth had ended and chose to find his own place to die.

The Champion, by Kitty

Mama M had a surprise opportunity to adopt a Grand Champion Siamese from a lady in Atlanta. When she visited to check out the situation, Robillard immediately accepted her. They left together with the owner's blessing.

Roby, as the Seal Point was called, settled into his new home in short order. He showed no signs of special conceit even though he had won the Atlanta cat show. He loved to share Mama M's bed. He loved being petted. He even loved Tiger, who had become an indoor-outdoor cat by then, and Tiger loved Roby.

A couple of years later,  Roby became sick. In the middle of the night, he coughed up blood onto the living room floor. Mama M picked him up and rocked him in her arms until morning, when she could take him to the Vet School's clinic. Tiger kept close watch from the sofa nearby.

After the vets had examined Roby, they told Mama M that he needed surgery. She agreed. Afterward, she was devastated to learn that Roby had real cancer of the stomach. They removed what they could and gave him bedrest in a cage for about a week. Mama M was allowed--even encouraged--to visit him, pet him, and show him her love.

When he had recovered from the surgery, however, she talked with one of the main vets, telling him that she could not afford to give him chemotherapy or any other major treatment. The vet agreed, particularly with the cat's being well into adulthood. 

Roby lived for about three months longer, enjoying the love and life a champion deserved. 

Homecoming, by Kitty

Early in her  professional career, Mama M and her apartment mate, Mama C, adopted an adult cat from the Richmond Humane Society. He was a beautiful, sleek, long gray male with short hair that was tipped with silver. They named him Spooky, with Richmond reminding them of the Gray Ghost of the Civil War (or Late Unpleasantness, if you wish).

Spooky was Mama C's cat most of the time, particularly during the night, when he would sleep on her bed. But Mama M was the earlier riser, and every morning when she would awaken, Spooky would be sitting on the floor beside her bed. He would follow her into the bathroom and wait for her to use the facilities. Then he would stretch his paws up as high as he could for Mama M to reach down, pick him up, and carry him into the kitchen for his breakfast. This routine continued for four years, until Mama M left Richmond to go away to graduate school.

Lo and behold, when Mama M returned for summer break and again when she returned after graduating to work again in Richmond, both times to different apartments, Spooky greeted her each morning with upraised paws as though she had never been away. What a delightful homecoming present!

The Psychic, by Kitty

A beautiful purebred black Persian named Mister joined Mama M's family, coming by adoption from Greenville, S.C. He was an active and loving son. Actually, he was the only cat at home during his life there.

One of his favorite pastimes was to sit on the counter of the lavatory while Mama M washed her face. Mister would playfully bat the stream of water coming from the faucet.

But the most memorable trait was his ability to know where he was going. 

If Mama M was going to take him to visit family back in Greenville, she would pack her suitcase, put Mister in his carrier and into the car, back out of the parking space, and drive out to the highway. Mister would not utter a sound. 

If Mama M was going to take him to board at the vet's, she would pack her suitcase, put Mister in his carrier and into the car, back out of the parking space, and drive out to the highway--exactly the same routine and route she would follow when going to Greenville. Mister knew the difference. He would me-ow loudly the whole way!

Simeon Joins the Family, by Kitty

A huge Snowshoe Siamese, orange and white, joined the crowd of cats in Mama M's carport one afternoon without invitation. He was excitable and ready for a fight. Unfortunately, he chose Tiger as his opponent. Poor Tiger began to look dogeared; he was never able to win bouts with Simeon.

Mama M borrowed a trap from the Humane Society, put cat food inside, and, bam, Simeon took the bait. While Simeon ate, Mama M locked the door. She then put the trap with Simeon inside into the trunk of her car and drove directly to the Humane Society shelter. Simeon was accepted, and Mama M returned home happy that Tiger would finally be safe.

A couple of weeks later, someone from the Humane Society called Mama M and told her that a lady wanted to adopt Simeon, who by that time had been neutered. "He's really a nice cat now," the caller said. "Will you give permission for him to be adopted?"

"OK," Mama M replied, "but not in MY neighborhood."

However, it wasn't two weeks before Simeon appeared in Mama M's carport again, eating out of the cat bowls with Little Bit and family. At first horrified, Mama M discovered that, yes, Simeon was a nice cat now, gentler, no longer a bully or a fighter. He purred when petted, loved to rub against Mama M's legs, and looked after the smaller cats.

Soon he was allowed in the house, where he became a constant companion to a black-and-white longhair named Masque, due to the shades around her eyes and over her head between her ears. Simeon also found his way into Mama M's lap.

Cats Band Together, by Kitty

One year Little Bit, Babe, and Babe's little sister Fluffy all had kittens within about two weeks—five each, all white. They first laid the babies under the bushes beside the carport.

When Mama M looked out the den window soon afterward, however, she realized that the three cats had moved their litters to hide them under the hosta bushes that lined the kitchen wall in the back yard. Fluffy's kittens were near the back porch, Little Bit's were in the middle, and Babe's were near the side corner. 

And sitting in front of the hosta patch, spaced like their litters, were Fluffy, Little Bit, and Babe. The three white cats were staring in one direction, the cold, "don't you dare come near" stares that only cats can muster. They were all looking at a male cat sitting at the edge of the garden on a hill above the back yard.

The tom didn't hesitate long before turning tail and running.

The mother cats had learned the benefit of joint forces. 

A Horrible Nightmare, by Kitty

Little Bit and Babe each had several litters of kittens a year, usually as many as three. And each litter invariably contained five kittens, usually white like their mothers.

One year a pack of dogs roamed the neighborhood where Mama M lived; no one claimed them and no one could or would fence them in. Animal services were not even successful in nabbing them.

Mama M saw Little Bit's five babies under the bushes beside the carport one afternoon, petted them, and began to plan how she would find homes for them.

That night, from inside where she was grading student papers, she heard the wild dogs bark and the kittens yelp. She rushed to throw open the kitchen door and chase the dogs away. Too late. They had batted down and killed all five balls of fur, in Mama M's most horrible experience of nurturing cats.

The Babysitter, by Kitty

Soon after she began eating in Mama M's carport, white shorthair Little Bit had kittens in the laundry room. Five of them, three white plus Patches and Tiger (see last post).

Three weeks later, Babe, also a white shorthair and obviously Little Bit's daughter, also had kittens; but Mama M could not find them.

One day soon afterward, Mama M heard mews coming from the back yard next door. Knowing the neighbor would not object, she went looking for the kittens. She found them in the well protecting a basement window: five tiny white babies. In their midst was taller, larger orange Tiger. Babe had plucked him from Little Bit's litter to become her babysitter. 

Neighborhood Cats Loved Mama M

Mama M's house was on top of a high hill, with a narrow flat front yard that suddenly dipped and ran downhill to the street. The yard was covered in grass and trees, mostly tall pines. The driveway was also steep and required quite a bit of effort in walking. So Mama M would stop at the mailbox for the day's post before driving up and parking in the carport next to the kitchen door.

A family of cats lived by the Oconee River down below and just beyond the house catty-cornered across the street from Mama M. They found the kitchen carport to be quite a restaurant! When Mama M would stop at the mailbox, they would come running from the river and up the drive. Their heads would pop up over the top of the grassy hill as they waited for Mama M to drive up and park. Then they would gather under the front of the car to wait for dinner.

The old mother, Little Bit, a white shorthair, never let Mama M touch her. She would back under the front of the car whenever Mama M got near. But she did love her daily allotment of canned food, always fish flavored. And she enjoyed sunning herself on the grassy lawn whenever Mama M was at home.

 

Only two of the cats would dare let Mama M rub their heads: Patches, a dark torteshell, and Tiger, an orange striped. Patches would even run into the kitchen, but then right back outside. Tiger, however, became an indoor-outdoor pet, a lap-sitter with Mama M and a companion to later house cats.

Mama M's Worst Cat

Mama M's worst cat was a beautiful white domestic shorthair (in other words, alley cat), known as Speedy.

Speedy was already a teenager when Mama M adopted her, but since she was to be totally a house cat, Mama M had her declawed. That means her front claws were removed so she could not tear up sofa, carpet, and other soft items. Remember, though, always leave the back claws on to give the cat traction and stability.

 

Well, those back claws caused part of the problem. Mama M was a teacher; she graded papers and prepared lessons sitting at the dining table. Speedy loved to get on the table and watch. Unfortunately, she also loved to speed down. She would "scratch off" with her back claws to jump into the air and land safely on the floor. Those scratch marks still mar the table, some 30 years later!

Another of Speedy's joys was jumping on bookshelves, dresser, anything high and finding small objects to play with and eventually knock to the floor. The sound of their fall never bothered her. She would just knock something else down.

One night, after working at her office until nearly 11, Mama M got home to find her TV on the floor of the bedroom, broken. It seems Speedy got mad at being left alone and went on a tear on top of the dresser, where the TV had sat for excellent viewing from bed. In the process, Speedy knocked the TV down and continued a path through the room.

When Mama M told colleagues about the breakage, she got expressions of sympathy. Her reply: "It was just a 12-inch black and white." And actually Speedy had done her a favor. The replacement she bought was her first color TV--a 19-inch one--that took its place on a stand in the living room and brought news and entertainment into the home for about 25 years!

The breaking of the 12-inch, however, was the incident that made Mama M realize what Speedy's real problem was. She only SAW objects falling; she never HEARD them hit the floor or other objects. She had inherited a gene that is fairly common in all-white cats. She was deaf. 

Kitty Can Write

I am a journalist--have been since 9th grade. I've practiced journalism on newspapers, magazines, newsletters, public relations releases, judging, and all manner of ways. I've taught journalism, particularly writing and editing, at the university level. I'd like to teach YOU how to be a journalist, specifically how to write in an organized, clear, correct, and interesting style. If you would like to learn, contact me.

Why "Kitty"? I am also a cat addict. I have one live, loving, lap-sleeping cat, whom the Humane Society named and registered by chip as "Eloise," but whom I named and address as "Weezie." Have you ever tried to call a cat to breakfast by "Eloise'? The sound just does not ring true. I also have an extensive collection of inanimate cats, in all kinds of media, postures, and activities. I can rarely pass a new design without buying it. And I volunteer in a gift shop! If you, too, are a lover of cats, let me hear from you. 

The Kitty of my blog title will write some cat stories from time to time. I hope YOU will take advantage of "Can Write."