Jack... Black Jack The Undead Pirate Samurai Cat...
Jack was the product of a love-fest between one of my (former) neighbor's blue-ribbon Siamese and my common housecat, Arwen. Arwen went into heat, and slipped out the door. She was only in the shed, and we knew she'd get hungry and come in eventually. However... Siamese kitty had smelled her, and escaped from his house. He slipped into the shed past my feet. There was much kitteh love, but we couldn't catch either of them.
Here's the kicker- the woman who owned the baby-daddy called the police on us for "stealing her prize winning cat". The officer that came to the door was amused, especially when I told him what happened. The woman wanted us to have Arwen spayed immediately, thus aborting her kittens. Of course, we said no.
Arwen gave birth to a litter of four, two silver mackerel tabbies, and two tuxedo kittens. One of each color was fuzzy, and promised medium to long hair. We gave away three of them, but I kept Jack. I'd always wanted a tuxedo kitten, and here he was. He was the one with short hair, and looked the most Siamese of them all.
I brought him outside on a harness. Once. The woman who owned his father accosted me. She had made papers for the kittens. She wanted me to pay he $450.00 for each kitten. WTF. I told her to go fuck herself, and never brought Jack out for a walk again.
He yowls and talks like a Siamese, and has a dreadful temper. When you pick him up, he's solid muscle- about 14 pounds of it. He looks (and acts) like a Siamese, but the wrong color. He loves to take showers, as long as he doesn't get water on his face. He also has a death wish- ribbons (the longer and more undigestable the better) and plastic bags are his favorite food groups. Jack is also a hard-core catnip addict. He has a special yowl that he uses when he wants to get high, and it brings the other four running, because they know I'll give in to Jack's claws eventually. He hates me. I love him.
Paris Kitten...
Paris was acquired after Jack's older sister, Minerva, died. She had been the runt of her litter, and was never in good health, so I kept her. She died suddenly, I'm using my educated guess, and saying it was probably heart failure, she had a grade 6 murmur, and was extremely susceptible to environmental stress. (From this litter also came Scoot, more on him later.) He was very attached to her, and after she passed, he went into a depression. He ceased to talk, and just went around my apartment crying and looking for her. I thought that a kitten might help Jack come out of it. So I went looking for one. I found a "FREE KITTENS!" poster in the gas station next door to my apartment, and called them. They were only a couple of streets away, so, Heather, Rebecca, TJ, and I went to go see them.
We fell in love with Paris almost instantly. She was the smallest cutest fluffiest littlest thing ever! I guessed her to be about 8 weeks old, but the man told me the kittens were already 14 weeks. They'd run out of people they knew to give them to, and had decided it was time to advertise. Their mother was a full-blooded Maine Coon, but they weren't sure about the dad, since mom was an outdoor cat.
Paris was the smallest of her sisters (there were four left), and I was a little wary of picking up another runt. But her little face was just irresistible, and I brought her home with me. Jack hated her right from the start. He let me know he was not pleased with my choice in various ways.
I soon found out that she wasn't the brightest light bulb in the box. She'd repeatedly slam into my gerbil's cage, trying to catch her. She never learned that glass isn't meant to jump through, and still slams into windows trying to catch birds... She's got the instinct of a hunter, but not the brains. She is, however, a gorgeous cat, and that's how she got her name. Paris = pretty, but really stupid.
Hella... As in "that's a hella cool cat", & Puff... As in... Well, she's puffy. Hella & Puff came as a pair from the shelter I worked at. They originally lived with just GW in his apartment. Hella loves people, and she is very, very needy. She has an obsession with our bathroom sink. She never goes upstairs, the downstairs bathroom is her "lair". She hates the other cats with a passion, even Puff sometimes. She gets picked on a little because she's so antisocial. Jack will walk toward her and raise his paw, just to hear her yowl.
Puff used to be quite frightened of GW. When we first brought them back to his place, she found the top of his kitchen cupboards... and stayed there for about a week. For the longest time, she would only allow me to touch her, she wanted nothing to do with GW, and certainly nothing to do with TJ, either. Anyone walking around would send her off running for a hiding place. She's doing a lot better now, though. TJ can pet her if she comes to him, and he doesn't make any sudden movements. When visitors come, she's nowhere to be seen for at least a couple of hours after they've gone. Heather & Holly have only seen pictures of her, and we've had her for almost 3 years now.
Anubis... Also known as "Nubis" or sometimes just "Noob" Noob was from a litter of 10 puppies, presumed to be black Labs, (because their mother was a Lab) who were going to be killed in a shelter's gas chamber in Arkansas. The reason the puppies were going to be gassed was that "no one wants Labs down here". Sickening, isn't it? A kind-hearted person who worked at the kill shelter contacted a rescuer in Texas, and he took the puppies, all 10, in. He made contact with another rescue group here in Maine, and arranged for some of the puppies to be transferred to her care. There was only one little problem.
Maine state law is that dogs coming into the state must be held in quarantine for 5 consecutive days before going to their adoptive homes. And those five days, the rescuer had already made plans to attend a college class reunion. So she placed an ad of Cragislist for someone who could help her out. I answered, along with many others. We'd just moved into our new house about two weeks before, and we weren't even finished unpacking, but I had the space, the time, and the experience.
After exchanging emails and a few phone calls, they decided I'd be the best one to take the job. Some of the other offers to help were ludicrous- an old woman who thought it would be a good opportunity for her 13 year old granddaughter to learn to be responsible, for example.
As it ended up, I did not have to take all 10 of them. Four of the pups found homes in Texas, and two found homes in New Hampshire, so it was left up to me to only have to care for four of them. And we got to keep one of our choice.
I knew right away they weren't pure Lab. They had almond-shaped eyes, and pert little ears, cute stubby noses, and various white markings on their chests and toes. These were Pitbull pups. Not a doubt in my mind. After seeing them, I was much happier with keeping one, as I really didn't want a Lab, I had wanted a Pit.
We like to call his breed "Staffordshire Retriever". People aren't as scared of him that way. Now that Noob is all grown up, he looks like a Pit. Big chest, short nose, cute tiny ears, slanty eyes, and he weighs about 65 pounds. He won't get to play with Alex for a long time, though. He's a little too spazzy. It's not that I don't trust Noob implicitly with children, I do, he loves them (the worst he'd do is lick them to death). He just gets so excited, and he doesn't know his own strength. Noob is used to playing rough with GW & TJ, and I've been known to throw him around a little, too (and play with his mouth, and tweak his cute ears).
Scoot... Our "Special Kitty"...
Scoot was born to Arwen the spring before Jack. (They were both born on Easter.) Scoot was Minerva's littermate, and was also very involved with raising the kittens. He loves babies- when he thinks we're hurting Alex, he bites (or claws) us, or whoever is near (like poor unsuspecting Jack) who might be causing the problem.
Scoot belonged to JP, my youngest brother. When my parents divorced, Scoot was left in the middle. My father went to live with his mother, and took JP with him. (My sister moved back in with my mom.) My grandma didn't want to have Scoot in the house, but said she'd pay to have him neutered, so I could take him.
Time passed by, and I heard nothing from them about it. Then one day...
I was showing a friend the webpage for the shelter I had worked at. And on it, was Scoot. He'd been given the name "Mufasa"- which really suited him better, and it was what I had sometimes called him in spite of JP's choice of a name. There was just no mistaking those sea-green eyes. I'd only seen them on Ramona Lisa (Arwens' mother) and Arwen's kittens. I immediately called the shelter. Scoot had been there for almost six months. And time was running out for him. With the new director having taken over, there were a lot more animals dying. She had put a six month limit on any animal's length of stay. We went to go see Scoot that night. One of my friends who worked at the front desk let me in to see him, although they were closed. Most definitely Scoot. The cat room lady had said there had been some interest in him recently. I said I'd come and get him tomorrow. We did. I called Heather (in a fit of rage at what my father had done) and she told me... "You know, I was there a few days ago, and I saw him! I asked to hold him and everything! I thought it was Scoot, but then I was like, no way, it couldn't be him, just a cat who looked like him, maybe one of his kittens or something."
We did go and pick him up the next day, and I told my friend from the desk that I knew the person who had "expressed interest" in Scoot. She had been the owner of his great-grandmother, and recognized his unique family trait- the huge sea-green eyes. So Scoot had a happy ending, and a somewhat joyous reunion with Jack. They still knew each other, and they get along just like brothers... Which means I have a lot of pulled-out fur to pick up when they scuffle.
After getting out of the shelter, Scoot just isn't the same kitty he was. Yes, it is definitely the right cat. Most of his old behaviour patterns were evident... but there are some new ones. We think he had a stroke. If you scratch him in certain places, he licks the air vigorously. It's quite amusing.
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