Kitten Fever

Okay…I always knew I was a cat person (no not the type that has the hind legs of a cat and whiskers and such) the type that LOVES cats and can’t get enough of them. And what is more loveable than a baby anything!?
Not too long after 8ish found her way home I got the “kitten fever”. I wanted a kitten, no no…I NEEDED a kitten!
The day I decided to get a kitten I endlessly searched online. I found someone who just so happened to be on my route home that had a litter of kits that were ready for new homes, AND it just so happened that half the litter were (you guessed it) ebony.
I was so excited I could barely hold the speed limit as I drove to my destination.
A jet black little boy with what I grew to call “the finger tail”. No really, it looks like a finger (kinda creepy I know).

I have always loved boy cats; they seem to be so laid back and friendly.
Much to my surprise it turned out to be a girl. I made a HUGE list of possible names. I like to pride myself on a good furball name. The only one that really seemed to fit was “Chopper” (the tail-it was the tail that got me).

Meet: Chopper

Alias:
Choppy Chop
Talky Talky
Princess Chopper
Chopper Four

That was when she was a kitten, as she grew up she developed the knack of blinking whenever I try to take her picture.

She is a very talkative furball. You will hear her before you see her. Her mother was a Siamese and I have a feeling the father was mostly Manx hence the tail. She also has that funny little bunny hop to her stride. Here's her talky talkin...

She was a very friendly cuddle bug up until her tragic disappearance.
About a year after I brought her home she went missing. I was worried sick. I posted signs, went door to door asking neighbors if they had seen her. No one had seen hair nor hide. One week after her disappearance I was trying to come to terms with the truth.
You see I have had all sorts of furballs growing up and part of owning them is accepting that they don’t live forever. Cars are fast and unforgiving, coyotes and owls are hungry and I can’t always be there to protect them.
I came home from work that day with a heavy heart, mourning the loss of my first baby.
Much to my surprise when I walked through the door I heard a voice…CHOPPER!!!
I screamed so loud that she tried to run back out the open window in terror. What a homecoming, poor thing, I sat and smothered her as I sobbed tears of joy (and probably scared her half to death).
She had been trapped in a neighbor’s garage while they were on vacation for a whole week with no food or water. She must have tried so hard to get out because she had scabs on the top of her head from apparently trying to push her way out through any opening she could find. I’m sure that she heard me night after night calling her name, shaking her food bowl across the street but as powerful as her talky talky voice is-it just wasn’t powerful enough to reach my sad little human ears.

She’s never been the same since. At that time she had a baby brother (introduction coming soon) who she loved, but she has never forgiven him for not coming to her rescue.
Chopper is extremely reclusive now and I only see her every few days or so. I still always hear her before I see her; I don’t think she’ll ever lose that voice of hers. She will always be my talky talky! She refuses to interact with any of her feline siblings, only the pup which she strangely seems to adore.

I’m not even sure where she hides out when she’s gone, but I hope she knows there is always an open window, a full bowl of kibble, and a mommy who loves her dearly waiting for her whenever she wants.

The Face That Launched a Thousand Ships

I’ve always heard that black animals have a harder time being adopted. It could be the superstitions surrounding them, or the fact that they are simply “plain” an un-unique pattern, or simply that they do not photograph well. Whatever the case, I have always had a soft spot for the underdogs (no pun intended). Perhaps it’s because I feel that I myself am one.
Once upon a time I had a random thought… “I will one day own a home of my own and adopt only black animals!”
Now, I have plenty of these hair brained (dang, I’m punny) ideas from time to time but few are ever followed through on.
This one in particular though was a chance meeting. About a week after I moved into my new home I heard a faint “mew” at the front door. It grew louder and more persistent.
I had spent the past week acquainting myself with the neighborhood furballs and naming them as I saw fit. But when I opened my door an unfamiliar black blur burst through the door and with no hesitation made for the guest bathroom.
At first I found it rather humorous thinking a neighbor cat had perhaps lost their way. I soon discovered that this house belonged to this cat…
She was very hungry and very skinny. She devoured the tuna that I offered her. As I thought back to the initial cleaning I recalled vacuuming kitty kibble from that very bathroom that she seemed so fond of.
After eating her tuna she had no intentions of leaving, she cuddled right up on the couch for a nap!
My home was a bank repo and I learned from the neighbors that the owners had left well over six months prior. How sad that someone would leave her behind.
She showed up around 8pm.

Meet 8ish:

Alias:Miss 8ish Pie
Sassy Pants

I can’t say she has the best attitude but I also can’t say I blame her. I’ll tell you one thing though she doesn’t wander far from her loving home.
She is obviously a survivor, with plenty of war wounds to prove it.
Her favorite pass time is snuggling on her fuzzy blanket at the foot of the bed….and bullying the young’ns.
She knows she’s the boss and that’s fine by me, I’m sure she has earned it.