On with the show! Kitties from my Life. Thanks to Happy Mouffatard at The Inelegant Gardener for the New Holiday.
Introducing Puck (named for Shakespeare, not hockey) the Most Fabulous Puppy Raiser Ever. I still miss him so much! Puck's death by Feline AIDS (acquired via neighbor cat) was what changed my view on allowing my kitties to go outside at will. *sigh* What a terrible choice. He was 11 years old, and one of my truest friends.
Here is Puck emerging from his favorite louging spot within my clothing, where-ever it may be!
And this is Puck & his sister Tigger. Their Mom was a feral I rescued-unbeknownst to me- preggers. Three for the price of one! WEEEEE!
This is the gluttonous Harley (Harlequin Davidson is his full moniker) He & his sister Sundancer (Sunny Delightful for short) were netted beneath a moved shed at 8 days old. Eyes were still shut. Harley was raised by Spirit my low-content wolfdog, and he believes he is a panther. He sleeps beneath the covers, and carries around my socks, and talks with his mouth full.
This is Spirit & Puck. She loves her kitties. And not as squeak toys or snack food.
This is Marguay, another rescue.. The last of a litter who was found by a coyote in a wood pile. Marguay was skin & bones when I got him around 4 weeks old, and could barely hold up his head. He was riddled with worms & other parasites. I had to feed him by eye dropper. His back middle toes were fused to the bone, he was cross-eyed, cow-hocked, and a bit retarded (as a result of his insufficient nutrition as a wee one, I am sure) but sweet as the day is long. He was 9 when he finally passed to the Bridge due to kidney failure. He was incredibly patient with me for the three weeks' worth of hourly sub-Q fluids and IVs I had to give him before he finally left. A very sweet kitty, I was proud to havehad the opportunity to make his acquaintence.
This is Gypsy, my Grammy's cat, and Poohka, another rescued feral. Gypsy was 23 years old when she finally left me, after Grammy died. She died in my arms, and was greatly beloved. Poohka is still with me. He looks like a Kliban cat, and was probably the model for: "Cat. One helluva nice animal, frequently mistaken for a meatloaf."
Spirit & Dickens. Dickens was with me for too short a time. Another rehabbed feral, he used to go for walks with me and the dogs. Coyotes took him. Perhaps he thoughtthey were friends. *sigh*
Spirit & Harley, best friends forever.
These are some of my feline friends. I have been incredibly blessed with wonderful personalities, and have been lucky enough to have had the opportunity to share my life with these feral cuties.
When the nights grow dark and drear,
my cats creep near
and pluck my fears away like mice
their purrs vibrate to my soul
Love on their terms, but Love Unconditionally whole.
There are those who still come close
while so far away, always in my heart, never too far.
Another night's star.
I wonder what kitty secrets they tell.