Now, I had no doubt that my Mama loved me, and no doubt that my Gaga (grandfather) loved me, and I suspected Gam (grandmother) loved me, but I wasn’t sure about my Daddy. My parents divorced when I was 3, and Gaga died when I was 4. Blue Princess and I "hung out" from the time I was about 4 1/2 until her untimely death under the tires of a car. She brought me little presents – mice, moles and chipmunks she captured. Once she brought a small squirrel. The Might Huntress, my Mama called her! Later, the mama cat (Ma) next door produced another kitten identical to her! So, of course, I named her Blue Princess, too! She also became a companion and confidant. She wasn’t my original Blue Princess, she was a different one. She wasn’t much of a huntress, but she was very playful and extremely affectionate. She would lie in my lap and purr, looking deeply into my eyes. And I would just drown in the blue pools of her eyes. Distemper took her from me. This was years before the distemper vaccine was developed. I cried as much as I cried over the first Blue Princess. Now I was without a companion.
My Mama realized I needed a cat, and proceeded to locate 3 for me! We went to the house of Mama’s friend, whose cat had produced 3 kittens. I was supposed to pick one of them. If you think I did that, you are wrong. Tears ran down my face and I told Mama that I couldn’t separate a brother and two sisters from each other. Being an only child, it was inconceivable to me that siblings would not be wonderful and love each other and be sad to be separated. Mama agreed – she was an only child, too – and Toots, Red and Ginger joined our household. We had Red neutered, but Mama left the girls unspayed. Of course the next spring there was a kitten explosion. I learned the facts of life from those two queens. Toots would mate gently and quietly. Ginger would mate with great yowls, then snarl and drive the tom away. Toots produced her kittens with quiet aplomb and confidence. This was what she was supposed to do and she did it. Ginger screamed and yowled the entire labor. Red just looked on with interest.
Toots was the best mama cat ever. She cleaned, cuddled and nursed her kittens with joy. Ginger resented the whole concept of motherhood. She would have deserted those kittens given her druthers. We penned her up in a large 5’x6′ cage with a little house for her and the kittens and a litterbox in one corner. She spent as much time away from the kittens as possible, only nursing them when their cries became insistent. She seldom cleaned them. As a matter of fact, she seldom cleaned herself. She was a slattern of the cat world. She had longish hair, but wouldn’t let me brush her. As a result we frequently had to cut hairballs off her. Toots, on the other hand, was clean and neat, and kept her kittens well fed and very clean. Her little nest only had clean kitty odor, not dirty cat odor like Ginger’s did. I named Toots’ kittens Bingo, Spot, Babe, and Prissy. We easily found homes for them. Ginger’s kittens were Kenny (my current crush at school), Tabs, and Mimi. We found homes for them, too.
That was only the beginning of the kitten explosion! Toots, after that first litter of 4, never had less than 6 in a litter again. One time she had 8! She was always a wonderful mother. Ginger only had 3 or 4 at most. She was never a good mother. Because I handled the kittens a lot, they were very social and friendly. Homes were easy to find for them. After having her 4th litter, Toots was killed by a car. What on earth she was doing that far from the kittens was beyond me. I was distraught. I didn’t have any little babydoll bottles for feeding them, and I tearfully went from house to house and even rode my bike down to the ten-cent store trying to find some. Mama came to my rescue with eyedroppers, and I carefully nurtured the 3 week old kittens and eventually taught them to eat "real" food. They were my dearies, and I adored them. They were Toots’ last litter, and I wanted to keep them, but Mama said, "No. Red and Ginger are enough." So Peep, Mitzie, Prowler, Ghost, Pepper, and Ty were given away. Ginger disappeared one day, leaving me to grieve with only Red for comfort.
And comfort he was. He had been a wonderful uncle to the kittens. When Ginger would abandon her kittens for hours, Red would get in the "nest" and clean the kittens and purr over them. He used to drool – copiously – when he purred, and it was messy, but endearing. He loved to be brushed, and would lie down and roll over for me to brush his tummy while he kneaded the air and purred and drooled.
During this time, a friend up the street decided to breed Persians. So I became her partner, and we made decisions about which cat to cross with which and why. Her father was a scientist – in genetics, I think – at one of the universities around town, so I got some lessons on genetics from him and those cats. He warned us that inbreeding was ok if you cross once, but not twice. Sure enough, when we disregarded him, the kittens were born malformed and didn’t live! But mostly we did a credible job, and she was able to sell kittens for about 2 years. Then distemper ran through the neighborhood. We lost 20 cats and kittens. At home, I lost another 6 or 8. Red came down with it, but he survived! It was about 3 years later that the vaccine against distemper became available. I’ve always gotten that vaccine for my kitties.
We didn’t reassemble the breeding program. My friend sold off all the remaining cats and kittens. I was left with just Red. He was great comfort to a pre-pubescent girl. And he lived through most of my adolescence, being a wonderful companion and confidant for a lonely, confused girl. Then, one beautiful Sunday morning in the spring of 1959, Mama came into the house just about hysterical. She had chased Red out from under the car as usual, but unknown to her, he came back and lay down under the back wheel. She ran over him, and he died quickly. She was distraught, I was distraught, and the day suddenly wasn’t beautiful anymore. She was the secretary of the sunday school I went to, and she called in saying she couldn’t be there that day. She was so upset that the assistant minister made a visit that afternoon after service!
I went away to school a year later, catless. We didn’t get another cat for a long time. I had to take a break from college because I came down with a severe case of Mono. I was lonely again, and wanted another cat. Gam said no. Since she owned the house, and was the "head" of our little household of 3, there was no cat. I worked a bit and saved my money. Then I went to a pet store and bought a 5-foot black racer – snake. I made a cage for him, and fed him feeder mice. (I assume this was a "he.") Mama and Gam were appalled! But they finally recognized how desperate I was for a pet. They would let me get a cat – one cat – IF I got rid of the snake. There was a deep wooded gully behind the house. Yep, I let that sucker go. he kept the chipmunks and squirrels under control for years! He was never friendly, despite me handling him a lot – carefully.
Pixie came into my life as I walked down the aisle at the Atlanta SPCA. I was dragging my fingers along the cages when a kitten grabbed one of them. I stepped back to that cage and came face-to-face with one of the cutest kittens I’d ever seen! She was black and white – A little white line ran p from her nose, between her eyes, and just above. She had little white "feelers" over her eyes, and white "whiskers." She had little white feet and a white tummy. I fell totally in love!! She was totally playful and had more personality that any cat I had seen since Blue Princess 2. (Not that the others didn’t have personality, but this one was so playful!) There is a music technique that involves plucking the strings of a stringed instrument. It produces a playful sound. I named her Pixie-Cato. It shortened almost immediately to "Pixie." Pixie lived in my room. She played all over the place. She slept with me. Once again I had a companion and confidant. I was struggling with myself. Returning to college seemed to be an insurmountable mountain. Finally, I decided upon Nursing – a compromise with my original intention of going into Medicine. Pixie became an outdoor cat when I went back to school, only coming in at night to sleep next to me. Naturally, as she was unspayed, she became pregnant! She produced 3 kittens. I only named one, because I knew the other two were going to be given away. But I absolutely HAD to have the little black boy! I named him Pywacket after the cat in the movie Bell, Book and Candle.
After finishing nursing school, I went to work. I was engaged and shortly after graduation, I married. We tried to take Pixie and Pywacket when we married, but they didn’t like our apartment. About 2 o’clock in the morning, we went to Mama and Gam’s house. Mama was in a wheelchair most of the time by then. Gam sighed – because she was the one who had to feed them.
I wanted a cat, and we got a little black and white kitten. Sadly, I can’t remember her name!
A few months later, however, we moved into a larger place – a duplex. Pixie and Pywacket came with us. They didn’t get along with the other cat, but when I had our first baby, Pywacket became his guardian and buddy. Somewhere in there, we got a newfoundland (dog) named Nemo. The next year, with me pregnant again, we moved to Utah – with Pixie, Pywacket, Nemo and the "other" cat. She had given birth to a rare cat – a Male tri-color. We called him Screwball.
So much was going on in my life at that point – settling into a new house in a new state, having another baby, going back to work, then going back to school for a Master’s Degree – that I remember little of the kitties. Pixie died, Pywacket was wonderful, as usual, Nemo saved the neighborhood from burglers, I finished school and taught a year at the local 2-year nursing program (Associate Degree), had another baby in there. Screwball developed feline leukemia and died. But Pywacket was still with us – and was the guardian of the children. He was monstrous – weighed in at 18 pounds. No one could get near the children without his permission! Our cat from the early days had kittens. We kept one that was black (of course) and named him Coalflake. (He was black as coal, and had he been white we would have named him snowflake, hence "Coalflake.")
We left Utah (after finding a big farm for Nemo to live on) and returned to my hometown with 3 children and 2 cats: Pywacket and Coalflake. I went to work at the big hospital in town, and husband went back to school for a PhD. He was not happy in his program, and with 3 children in daycare plus food for all, he had to work, too, in order to make ends meet. Thank goodness we were living for free at Mama and Gam’s. Mama was totally disabled, and 4 months after we returned with children and cat, Mama and Gam went into a nursing home. This was Mama’s decision, not mine. They let us live in the house I grew up in for a long time. I was happy with that arrangement, but eventually, after Gam died, Mama needed the money from the house. So we found land, built a house on it, sold Mama’s house, and moved. Husband and live-in housekeeper decided they couldn’t live without each other, so they left together, and I ended up in a townhouse apartment in the armpit of a suburb of Atlanta with the children and Pywacket – that’s about all I got out of the marriage, but the children were my jewels, and I felt rich!
Pywacket didn’t adapt to apartment living, and sprayed all over the place, despite being neutered years and years ago. At 15 years of age, fairly long for a cat at that time, I reluctantly agreed to having him put down. I was inconsolable for months. In only 2 years, I had lost grandmother, husband, and 2 houses. Now I was losing the only continuity in my life! But by then I had re-married, and had my ol’ curmudgeon to lean upon.
When we moved into a house after Mama died a year later, we encountered a little orange and white queen about 5 months old. She decided our house was her house and kept trying to come in. The ol’ curmudgeon was skeptical, but finally he said, "OK, take the cat and have it spayed. But I get to name her! I’m calling her ‘Pirate’ because she has stolen your hearts." Pirate was wonderful – until she made pinholes in our waterbed mattress! Had to take her to get declawed. She did wonderfully, and was a new companion for the children – especially the oldest who had hair the color of hers. Pirate with with us 6 years later when we moved to SC for me to teach at a University there. One day, she got out of the house, and when she came back that night, she was a different cat! She was Queen of the Neighborhood – Sleuth of the Shadows! She became an indoor-outdoor cat for a while. Loved that cat. So much personality!!
We moved back to the ol’ curmudgeon’s home later, so I could get a PhD. His mom had died the year before, and he bought her house from his siblings. Pirate came with us, as an indoor cat, but shortly learned to go out the dog-door-flap. She ruled the neighborhood for 5 years. She came home when she wanted to, and would lie on the top of the 7 foot tall breakfront, peering over like a vulture to see what was going on! One night, however, she finaly met her match – 2 dogs at once, a Rotweiler and a Pit Bull. Even without her claws, however, she hurt them – they had deep, multple bite marks all over their faces and front legs. Good for Pirate – she gave almost as much as she got. We buried her in the back yard.
No replacement for Pirate – for about 2 years. Then Effie came into our lives. A nondescript gray tabby with gorgeous green eyes! She could leap 4-5 feet off the ground going after a feather teaser. And she enjoyed playing fetch with her furry little mousey toy. We would toss it, she would run after it and bring it back for us to repeat the process. She was also a bit of a "lap cat," and would lie in a lap and purr. A couple years later, Kathena came to join her. They were both declawed, but that didn’t stop them from killing a rat in the house. (We lived in a neighborhood that had rats in the backyards. They would come under the houses and nest to make more little ratlets.) This was a half-grown ratlet that they caught and killed. I took it away before they could eat it. Wasn’t sure what kind of poisons it might have ingested. People were always putting poison out for the rats. Soon after that, Magnus, the Magnifi-Cat joined us. Black with white in his "armpits" and bikini area, he is one of the sweetest cats I’ve seen since Red. A "killer" purr, and sooo forgiving of all indignities. Take them to the vet, and Effie would take a day or two to forgive us. Kathena would have her nose out of joint for 2 – 3 weeks. But Magnus, sweet Magnus, would climb into our laps and purr right away!
We moved from there to our current house about 6 years later, bringing Magnus, Effie and Kathena with us. Recently, however, Effie (who was almost 16) and Kathena (who was almost 14) started acting funny. Wouldn’t use the litter box, vomited a lot, became less tolerant of any handling. Kathena obviously had arthritis, as she would be very stiff after getting up from one of her frequent naps. She wouldn’t let anyone touch her hindquarters, and wouldn’t let anyone pick her up. She was very uncomfortable. The vet had no answers. NSAIDS destroy cat’s kidneys, Aspirin is contraindicated. Both were starting to lose weight, and weren’t grooming themselves like they used to. With the concurrence of the vet, we reluctantly realized it was "that time," and tearfully held them as they were put down. They were with us and we were with them to the end.
Thank goodness, we still have Magnus – who, at almost 12, is very healthy despite FLUTD (feline lower urinary tract disease). He eats his special diet, and tolerates us forcing him to drink extra fluids by adding water to his food. He sleeps between us most nights, until the ol’ curmudgeon evicts him to my side of the bed! LOL!
Cats in my life. I don’t do well without at least one. The ol’ curmdgeon worries that after he dies I’ll become a crazy little old cat woman who has 30 or 40 cats. I have assured him that 1 or 2, preferably 2 or 3, are enough for me. Actually, 1 or 2 is about all I can handle. I recognize that, and won’t take in more than 2.
When Magnus dies, we want to get 2 little queens, possibly of the Bombay variety. They are large, black and have orange eyes. They are beautiful. But until then we have Magnus, our wonderful Magnifi-Cat. He is truly magnificent. Yet funny. He "gets lost" in the house in the middle of the night and starts yowrling. One of us says, "Magnus, you moron! Shut up and come here!" He starts mewing like a kitten and come running! Not the sharpest tack in the drawer, OR he enjoys the game. With cats you never know!
So Magnus will be with us to the end. And I look back on the Cats in My Life, I consider it a privilege to have known each of them. Each with his or her own personality. Each endearing in it’s own way. Generous with affection, playful in their own ways. My babies. My kitties. My cats. My loves.
For you kitties who have gone before me, wait across the Rainbow Bridge! I’ll come get you one day, and we can play and purr forever. It may not be an Orthodox thought, but I have to cling to the idea that I will see each of them again – somehow, somewhere, somewhen.
Turtlemom's Space 