Cats 2 and 3, Sulu and Seven: Kira’s sons, acquired when my sister-in-law was renovating her house and they were evicted from her basement. Sulu has always been friendlier and more outgoing than Seven. He came out of the cage first. Seven crawled out later and hid for a long time. Seven had an ear hematoma and it was literally buttoned up. After draining surgery, the vet sewed three buttons in his ear to keep the layers together. He also had what we thought might be a fatal urinary issue, but after one attack, seemed to recover.
Cats 4 through 7, Mackie, Lokai, BeeGee, and Jammer, “the blacks”: All neighborhood strays we fed for a year or more before they finally got beaten down enough by cold weather or heat, or just became familiar enough with us that I could pick them up and take them to the vet and get them fixed. They are all either solid black or black and whites.
BeeGee, aka Black Girl and Baby Girl, was already fixed, abandoned by neighbors down the street who moved and left her behind.
Jammer aka Fat Andy came already fixed, dumped in our neighborhood after being abandoned by the people who adopted him from a rescue group. He even had a chip. We had been feeding another black and white cat, Andy, for many months, when Jammer came around and started stealing his food. I guess Andy thought we were no longer a viable source and we never saw him again. The last time I saw him, I followed him a couple of blocks to see where he went when he wasn't in my yard, and I had to give up after he went over a fence.
Mackie was “the cat in the window” for a very long time, always on the back deck and looking through the window into my husband’s den, wishing he could be inside, but evading our efforts to bring him inside. The first couple of times I tried, he freaked out and we had to let him back out after a day or two. Finally, I just immediately put him in a cage and called vets until one would fix him that day. Even then I let him back out when he recovered, but after that, he didn’t freak out when he was inside, and eventually became reluctant to ever go out. He was in a group of other black and white cats who we never could catch – Sylvester, Whiteface, Andy and Hitler. All those eventually disappeared.
Cats 8-10, Cat Daddy, Jordy, and Odo : The trio from the field. I was leaving for work late and angels told me to take a long-cut, not even a short-cut, through a neighborhood five blocks away that I don’t ever drive through. I passed an open field where I saw three cats walking together. I slowed down, got out of my car, and started walking toward them. The largest and smallest cats ran off, but the middle one came up to me and rolled over. I immediately snatched him up and took him home and put him in the laundry room until I got home from work. His ear was clipped, so we thought a rescue group had already neutered and returned him (catch and release program), but it was a premature clipping because he still had one testicle. Turned out the second had never descended so he needed the female surgery to get fixed. That was Jordy.
When my husband came home from work that day, he said he couldn't find the kitten I told him I had stashed in the laundry room. We looked all over. He finally spotted him on a shelf in the electrical closet, behind a toolbox. Pulling him out was like his birth into our home. Because he had one infected eye, I wanted to name him Geordi after Geordi La Forge, but it was too difficult a name to spell. So, Jordy.
A few days later, while I had him in the backyard in a cage, acclimating him to the sights and smells of my yard for orientation, the smallest cat from the trio in the field, Odo, suddenly appeared sitting next to his cage. They rubbed their faces through the netting as if they knew each other, which is why I felt for sure this was the other cat from the field. "There's his running buddy," my husband said.
A few days later, while I had him in the backyard in a cage, acclimating him to the sights and smells of my yard for orientation, the smallest cat from the trio in the field, Odo, suddenly appeared sitting next to his cage. They rubbed their faces through the netting as if they knew each other, which is why I felt for sure this was the other cat from the field. "There's his running buddy," my husband said.
I fed the little cat for a month before I was able to grab him by the scruff and get him in the house. Two years later, that is still the last time I’ve touched him. He dodges people, but loves my other cats. Even my husband, the Cat Whisperer, hasn’t been able to touch him. Hence the shape-shifter name of Odo.
The third cat from the field showed up a few weeks after that, and I fed him in the front yard for months before I was able to grab him and carry him in. Cat Daddy -- because his coloring was so close to Jordy's, he looked like Jordy's daddy -- was weak and had a runny nose. I took him to a clinic, and they ran a blood test and said he was so anemic, that couldn’t promise he’d even make it through the night, and if I took him home without treatment, he’d die. He didn’t look that sick to me, but I left him at the vet, figuring that was the end of him. Two days later they called me to come get him and gave me a bill for $800. I talked them down to $600, since it wasn’t technically even my cat. Then I saw a photo contest on Twitter for How Would You Spend $500? I entered Daddy’s photo and won. So since Daddy mostly paid for himself, I kept him. He now weighs 22 pounds.
Cat 11: Tinker. I just decided the next cat, whoever it was, would be Tinker, and there were three possibilities, not counting Kanga, who I kept in the house twice for a week each time, but he kept trying to bust through the window, so I let him go. Tinker started showing up from time to time. My husband called him Fluffy because of his long, reddish-black-dark brown hair. When he got to the point where he’d take his meals on the front stoop and let my husband touch him, I said, grab him. The two others of a similar size might be his littermates, but they only come by late at night looking for food and run off as soon as I open the door. Tinker and Odo both had testicles, which meant a lot of stalking and staring, and sometimes a wrestling match and a high-pitched chase. Tinker has made no effort to escape the house. He has since had his testicles clipped, with hopes he will not challenge Odo to a duel every time they pass.
Cat 11: Tinker. I just decided the next cat, whoever it was, would be Tinker, and there were three possibilities, not counting Kanga, who I kept in the house twice for a week each time, but he kept trying to bust through the window, so I let him go. Tinker started showing up from time to time. My husband called him Fluffy because of his long, reddish-black-dark brown hair. When he got to the point where he’d take his meals on the front stoop and let my husband touch him, I said, grab him. The two others of a similar size might be his littermates, but they only come by late at night looking for food and run off as soon as I open the door. Tinker and Odo both had testicles, which meant a lot of stalking and staring, and sometimes a wrestling match and a high-pitched chase. Tinker has made no effort to escape the house. He has since had his testicles clipped, with hopes he will not challenge Odo to a duel every time they pass.
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