Buddy

Mr. Buddy showed up not long after Sally. The two of them co-existed quite peacefully for about a year. He was a sweet sweet little man who always greeted me when I came home. I put up a second shelter on the porch for him because he and Sally wouldn't share that, though they shared food.

But, one day he was gone and never came back. I looked for him for weeks before giving up. I know he's in Heaven now. And I hope he remembers that for his short time here on earth, he was loved. I still miss him, very much.

That's the part about outdoor kitties that tears my heart out. Sometimes they leave and never come back. And you never know why.

I named him Buddy to go with Sally. Remember Sally and Buddy from the Dick Van Dyke show? The comedy writers? It seemed to fit. He always made me smile.

Sally

Sally showed up at my house several years ago on a spring night and marks the beginning of my outdoor menagerie and the joys/sorrows that entails. It was almost dark, and I was in my house reading a book, when I heard a very loud meow outside. It was an obviously distressed cry, so I went out to investigate. I found a skinny, raggedy tortie running around under my car and my front porch bushes.

Feeling sorry for her, as she was obviously VERY hungry, I went inside and got her some food and water. She immediately came and ate. I told her that she was welcome to hang out as long as she wanted, but that she should not expect to be allowed to come live in my house, as I already had six cats.

Needless to say, a year and a half later? She's in my house. The first winter I provided her with a shelter on the porch- a cat carrier with heated electric cat pad, blankets, etc. She appeared happy outside for the most part, with the exception of fireworks and rain storms.

One night, the following December, I came home to find her gone- even though it was freezing cold. When she saw my car, she came running from across the street crying. Oh- and by that point, my other little outdoor cat, Sammy, had been living in a SECOND shelter on my porch with her. More about him later. Turns out that two other neighborhood cats had discovered the shelters/food on my porch and decided to take it over. Well, given that I had spent a lot of time/money/effort on Sally and Sammy by that point I decided that I would bring them inside for a week or two- so that I could remove the shelters/food in order to discourage the usurpers.

Needless to say, Sally and Sammy never went back outside. Sally loves being an inside cat- I have my suspicions that she was someone's pet who was abandoned. She melded effortlessly into the brood with nary a hiss or a spit.

She's also comfortable enough at this point to rip into my bread loaves if I forget and leave them on the table or the counter. Little devil.

And, she's like my other two torties- very mercurial. She doesn't like to be petted/touched unless it is her idea. Makes it a lot of fun to catch her to go to the vet's office.

Her middle name is Mae, in honor of my grandmother, Willa Mae. And ironically? I have a Sallie Mae first time home buyer's loan, too. I guess fate sent me this cat, huh?

Jacob

Jacob is a Hurricane Katrina rescue from New Orleans. The Memphis HS brought a load of animals here to be fostered/adopted. I signed up to be a foster, but never expected to get a call, because hundreds of people were on the list ahead of me. However, after a few weeks, when the HS needed foster homes, many people changed their minds. So, I was pleasantly surprised to get a call.

I asked which cat would be the hardest to place, and they said the oldest male, so I said, "give me that one, then" and we made arrangements for me to bring him home. I knew that if noone claimed him that I would adopt him- after all, I AM a soft-hearted chump, right?

That marked the beginning of a very interesting journey. Though the HS said he was clear medically, I took him for a check up to my vet, Dr. Ledbury (the best vet in the world). He appeared to be fairly healthy, but I kept him in quarantine anyway. It was also necessary to do so because he was not socialized with other animals and tried to attack my cats- with intent to harm.

It took me a year and a half to reach this cat. During that time we had to overcome food issues. He had starved for so long that he ate enough to make himself sick- literally, physically sick. He had intestinal issues, ear mites, and several weeks after bringing him home we discovered a horrible bladder/kidney infection. We speculate that he got that from drinking the nasty water that we all saw on tv after the storm. Jacob wasn't rescued until 3 1/2 weeks after the hurricane. We also had to overcome psychological issues- he was not mean, I could sense that, but he had been through a lot. He once bit me in the face, he attacked the other cats, he cried when it stormed, stuff like that.

My vet and I spent hours talking and trying to come up with ways to help him- you name it, we tried it. Dr. Ledbury eventually tried to prepare me for the fact that I just might not be able to reach him, but I was determined not to give up on him. I always believed that with enough love, patience and time that he would come around.

Jacob had to stay in my office alone, for a year and a half, unless I was home and could supervise his sojourns into the rest of the house. Some days he could only stay out 30 seconds, other days several hours. But as soon as he attacked another cat, he had to go back in his room. I used to sleep with him once a week, so he wouldn't be alone 24/7. But, finally, one day he was out and something just clicked- I saw the thought cross his face, literally. He realized that none of my cats were trying to hurt him and that if he didn't try to hurt them he could stay out all the time. And from that day forward I was able to leave him out.

Now? He loves his brothers. They play, they groom each other, they sleep together and share food. He is the sweetest little cat. He loves to give me head butts. He is no longer scared of storms.

He is Dr. Ledbury's favorite cat. No matter who I take to the vet, or who I might call and talk about, he ALWAYS asks about Jacob. He has a real soft spot for him. He tells me that I should be proud of myself for what I've accomplished, because most people would have given up on him.

I tell him that Jacob is the one who did the hard part. He just needed the love, patience and time to heal, physically and most importantly, emotionally.

Henderson

Henderson was originally rescued by my mother's best friend on a mountainside in Hendersonville, NC (thus explaining his name) while she and mom were camping. He cried all night long and she found him in the morning, cold and hungry, and not even two months old. We speculate that something happened to his mother.

Mom thought that since he was so small, that maybe her cat Misty would accept him. Misty HATES other cats and always has. She brought him home. Well, two months later Henderson was STILL living in the bathroom, as Misty would not accept him. My mother told me she was going to give him to a shelter. I threw a fit, and said NO- he was family and I would take him. After all, what's one more when you already have four, right? It took a bit of convincing, but when I told her that if she gave him to a shelter, and not me, I would take off from work and drive around Memphis until I found him, she gave in.

I brought Hendi home, and well, if I thought things were wild with Bosco I was wrong. The pre-Henderson years were "The Quiet Years, Revisited." Never in my life have I EVER seen a more sweetly obtuse little man. He does not acknowledge the word no or any other form of attempted discipline. Luckily for me he is not a ill-tempered or malicious cat, just very mischievous and stubborn.

He and Bosco bonded within 24 hours. They look alike, except for the tails. And in all seriousness? In one regard, he calmed the household down, as he gave Bosco an always willing playmate, which allowed him to quit tormenting his older sisters.

He loves all forms of meat, as when he was found, mom and her friend fed him whatever they had leftover- he developed a love of fish, chicken, steak, shrimp and lobster. What a culture shock to come to my house where we have DRY FOOD. I sneak him can food to keep him happy. And Cheez Whiz. He goes nuts over Cheez Whiz.

When he's eating something he loves (translation- MEAT) he purrs and makes the cutest sound- like a growl that sounds like he is saying "nang nang nang." So, that's our code word for when I sneak him food that the other cats can't have- they have dietary issues.

I'm glad mom's cat never accepted Henderson. Because I knew the moment I saw him I was going to find a way to steal him from her.

Bosco

Bosco, or the B-man, or just plain ol' "B" for short, came into my life after I'd had "the girls" a couple of years. Those pre-B days are fondly referred to as "The Quiet Years," as in those days all my cats were well behaved and there were no disagreements. A simple snap of the finger would cause any cat to cease their undesirable actions. Noone EVER got on the kitchen counter- stuff like that.

Anyway, I digress. A co-worker brought Bosco to me, as she didn't know what to do with him. He had wandered up to her house over the weekend and her kids fed him, but she knew he was sick and didn't have a way to take care of him, financially or otherwise. Knowing that my heart was bigger than my pocketbook, she did the best thing for him- she brought him to the "Soft-hearted chump."

Bosco stayed in my office all day until I was able to leave early to take him to the vet. He stunk, as he had thrown up in my friend's car, and he had diarrhea as well. I cleaned him off as best I could, but had to be careful, as he had a wound on one of his back legs and a really swollen infected tail. I had no intention of adopting a fourth cat, as I couldn't afford it, but I was willing to take him to vet, get him better, pay for shots/neuter/spay, and find him a good home.

That afternoon I took him to Dr. Ledbury, the best vet in the world, and we began to get him fixed up- bloodwork, exam, etc. Dr. Ledbury said that I had to leave him overnight, because his tail was going to have to be I&Ded (incised and drained for you non-medical folks). I thought he would do it in the morning, but he said, no, he was staying late to do it. That told me that it was bad. Since the clinic was closed by the time we reached that point, I asked if I could stay and watch.

Well, Bosco's tail was not infected, it was dead and had to be removed. I now have a manx cat- but he wasn't born that way. He was a very sick little cat, and Dr. Ledbury warned me that he might not make it. But, obviously he did! And guess what? I kept him. I figured after going through that whole ordeal with him, there was no way I could ever give him away.

Life changed with Bosco, but I have no regrets. My house has not been calm since I brought him home, but not in a bad way, he's just a miscevious little boy. And he is the most loving, sweet little man. I had heard that boy cats were not as "good" as girl cats- they sprayed, fought, etc. Nothing could be further from the truth.

He has chronic colitis, brought about by food allergies and stress, but other than that? He has no problems. We solved those allergies with prescription diet food (can we say "expensive?"). Now just about the only time he has a flare-up is when he has to go to the vet. Although, the last few times he's not had one.

And he still has no idea that he does not have a tail.

Colette and Lucy

About four months after Alex came into my life, I decided that she needed a playmate. As luck would have it, I had to make a trip to the vet's office not long after that, and saw a sign on the door that said, "A mommy cat and four babies were left in a box outside our door. They are up for adoption."

So, while I was waiting to see the vet, I asked about the cats. They said only one baby was left, and the mommy. I asked to see the kitten.

They, of course, saw the "soft-hearted chump" tattoo on my forehead and brought both into the exam room. It would have been rude to ignore the mommy and only pay attention to the baby, so of course I ended up adopting both of them! The vet still laughs about that little coup on his part.

There was no way I could take the baby and leave the mommy or vice-versa.

Colette (on the left) and Lucy (on the right) are very mercurial little cats (as I've heard most torties are). Having never had torties, I can tell you that the first few years were interesting.

Colette does not like being held and is not a lap cat, and it took her several years before she ever purred. But I know she likes me, as she sleeps on my head every night. She likes to drink out of a dixie cup on the bathroom counter every morning- I fill it up when I brush my teeth. She has a sweet little "mrrkk" that she uses to thank me for her refills.

Lucy, who I call "Bitty Bitty" (as she weighs in at 5.5 pounds full grown) is an odd duck, too. She likes to be petted if it's her idea, and bites you when you do it (but not hard). She pees in the bathroom sink- gross, I know, but better than the carpet. She doesn't care that the other cats are a lot bigger than she is- she'll hold her own in any spat.

I've never regretted the decision of adopting both of them. Everyone should have at least one tortie.

Alex

Alex rescued "her momma" 8.5 years ago.

My beloved Thistle had died three and a half weeks prior to the day I got my "Sweetie" and I was lost without a cat. My mother says that I have a cat shaped hole in my heart that must be kept filled or I'll bleed to death.

I felt guilty for wanting another cat so soon after my loss, and had not reached the point where I was actively seeking another. But Alex and her biological brother, Silver, were found in a field by a friend's husband. Their mother was nowhere to be found. So, my friend convinced me to take one of the kittens. They were only about 10 days old and had to be bottle fed every few hours. Needless to say, I was absolutely terrified of something that small, and was determined not to let her leave me like Thistle had.

I believe that Thistle went to Heaven and picked Alex out for me. I love all my cats equally, but Alex is special. She sleeps cuddled up next to me at night, and I wake up with her head on my shoulder and my arm around her.

My "Sweetie Girl" saved me from my grief. Any guilt I felt for getting a new cat so soon after Thistle died disappeared, because I realized that Alex most likely would have died without me. Thistle knew that was the only way to help me, so she sent me a baby to save, who in turn saved me.

Introduction

I share my home with eight cats and two birds. I also have several outside kittahs that have adopted me as well.

Someone asked me to share stories of my babies, so here I am.

In the days to come, I will introduce all the fur and feather babies, share pictures and stories.