Some of you may have seen that I've already posted about one of our lovely boys, who's poorly (cancer).
But I thought I'd introduce myself (and the boys) properly.
I'm Debbie, and I think I probably qualify as a (mad?) cat person... I really do think I prefer cats to people a lot of the time.
Anyway, I've had cats since I was a kid. A friend's kitten fell asleep in my lap when I was six, and I went home demanding that we got a cat. I didn't know that my dad was terrified of cats because he'd been attacked by a neighbour's when he was a toddler (from knowing her later, I'd guess it was probably a mistreated cat).
Anyway, I came home from school one day in July to find a gorgeous little black and white (more black than white) kitten. My Nana had been off to the local shelter and found him. We called him Felix (origninally enough!). He was lovely, slightly mad, and had been dumped on the shelter at far too young an age (he was really, really tiny when we got him). His big adventure came five years later when he went missing one year in the middle of November. We were all distraught - even my Dad, who'd been cured of his fear with much patience from Felix. Six weeks later - on Christmas Day - he appeared at the back window, meowing to be let in and fed. He was injured, and much bigger, but it was definitely him. He was with us for ten years before we lost him.
We got Tigger part way through the time we had Felix (they couldn't stand each other). Tigger was another kitten from a shelter, and he was tabby and white. He'd been found in a bag, in a stream with his siblings. He was the only one to survive. Considering his start, he was remarkably well adjusted. He liked to bounce (hence the name). He liked to bounce along the floor, up the walls - you name it. I had to give him up after 8 years because I briefly had nowhere to live and then wasn't allowed pets. One of my biggest regrets, although I made sure he was rehomed with a nice family.
Skip a few years to my now husband and I buying the house we currently live in. A few months after moving in, a cat appeared in our garage, in a box. He was obviously a stray, from his condition, and he was sleeping rough. He obviously hadn't been a stray that long, though, because he was perfectly healthy. He really didn't trust people though. I heard from a neighbour that she thought the people in the house before us had a tabby cat. Things started to make sense.... They'd left a month before we moved in. I started feeding him. Eventually he let me pick him up (several months down the line). He came into the house. Eventually he started sleeping in the house, and became our cat. We called him Vlad. He liked mice. He particularly liked the bottom half of mice - he left the rest as a present for me. He also liked birds - but only stunning them and leaving them in the kitchen to recover. He was lovely. He was with us for nearly three years till he was knocked over and died from his injuries. I still miss him.
On to our current boys.
After Vlad died we decided we wanted to get two cats, so that they could keep each other company. I was a little paranoid about roads and cats going out, so I really wanted indoor cats. We found George and Edward in a shelter on the other side of the county. Two ginger boys, who were litter brothers, and about three. I was happy about them being adults - I figure that kittens are relatively easy to rehouse. Neither of us drive, so we brought them home by public transport (offhand, two buses, two trains and a taxi). Of course they yowled the whole way.
Fortunately neither of them like to go outside. We did try to let out George, because he makes a big show of wanting to go out. But if you actually let him out he completely panics. As for Edward... he went outside once. He sat under a car yowling till I went out in my dressing gown (it was Sunday morning) and got him - took half an hour for him to calm down enough to get him out. George and Edward are both very 'licky' cats - George takes it a little too far and will lick just about anything - even been known to lick doors. The vet thinks he's bizarre.
Our third cat is black and white. Magnus appeared in the back garden last year. We and our neighbours did all the usual stuff - notices in shop windows, note attached to the collar he was wearing (no id tag), called vets, called cat protection and shelters. Nothing. One of our neighbours is allergic to cats, so we said we'd take him. Took him to the vet, who said that he was just under a year old, and he'd probably been dumped because he wasn't 'kitteny' any more. He's nicknamed magnus the mad. He's a wee bit mental (although lovely too). He goes out. He woke me up this morning by jumping onto me from the top of the wardrobe.
Ginger boys are Edward on the left (our poorly boy - he's dying), and George, his brother on the right.
Black and white boy is Magnus.
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