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Mittened kitten found a home

 

     I received some good news from G today.  It seems that the kitten who has been living on her deck has found a home.  That is if it stays around for a few more days.  G says that with her luck he’ll disappear when the woman comes to get him and then reappear a few weeks later.

     I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this doesn’t happen and he goes on to live happily ever after with his new owner. 

     While I was visiting G today he curled up on my lap and stayed put for quite a while purring all the time.  He’s going to make a wonderful lap cat. 

     He’s gained some weight since he came to live at G’s.  He certainly has enjoyed the food they’re giving him.  You no longer see each rib, his hipbones don’t look like knife blades, and his spine isn’t sticking out.

     The day his new owner comes to get him, he has a vet appointment for neutering before she takes him home.  Poor baby is in for a big surprise.  He’ll get over it soon enough.  I’ve a feeling she’s going to enjoy spoiling him.

The Siamese cat and the Sachet Kitty

 

     Years ago, when Dear Hubby and I were dating, my Siamese tangled with a skunk.  Dad told us to bathe her in tomato juice—the known ‘cure’ for the odor back then. 

     Now Snoopy never weighed more than seven pounds in her entire life.  However, when DH and I went to bathe her, you would’ve thought she was ten times larger and weighed over a hundred pounds.  She hated the whole idea of a bath and this cat was not declawed.  The results looked like something out of the cartoons.

     DH ran to the store and bought several large cans of tomato juice.  We hauled out a large galvanized tub and filled it with said tomato juice.  Then he caught Snoopy and walked over to the tub intent on putting her in it for her bath.  Her toe touched the liquid and her claws raked his arm.  She shot out of his grasp.  It took another fifteen minutes to recapture her.  This time DH had leather gloves on his hands.  He tried to put her in the tub, her legs stretched out, four feet of claws hooked on the edges of the tub, and no matter how much he tried she wasn’t going in there.  Picture that cartoon cat here.  I’d get one paw unhooked and she’d snag the edge of the tub with it as soon as I went for another paw.  We had more tomato juice on us than she did.  In fact, she was dry as an old bone.

     New plan, we had to find some way to keep her from hooking her paws on the edges of the tub.  I went into the house, grabbed an old pillow case, and we bagged her with only her head sticking out of it.  By this time, Snoopy was howling and you’d have thought we were killing her.  Truth is a few of the neighbors came over to see what all the noise was.  Now we had an audience.

     Have you ever tried to wash a bagged cat?  She knew what we were about to do.  Not even dunked yet, her shrieks had our audience in the giggles.  We dunked her and scrubbed the tomato juice in as best we could.  Then while DH held her over the tub, I rinsed her with buckets of warm water.  Snoopy was screaming like a banshee.  Rinsed, disgusted, and transferred from the pillowcase to a towel she had had enough.  She hissed at DH, leapt from the towel I had her wrapped in, and dashed into the house to hide under my bed.

     Although the smell was not strong, it took a year for the odor to leave.  Cats have hollow hair.  Every time she got wet, she stank of skunk.

Snoopy2 Snoopy relaxing on her favorite fake lambskin–she was about 17 here.

The Siamese connection

 

     With her post on the Lipstick Chronicles yesterday, Laurie Moore got me thinking about my dearest friend.

     A long time ago, when I was in Jr. High I went with my mother, grandmother, and sisters to get a cat.  We hadn’t had one for quite a while.  Dad had always griped about our cats and after the last one, well…we hadn’t replaced old Butch yet.  We’d moved several times and had a few dogs but no cats that stayed around for long. 

     So there we were just settling in to a new home when my mother spied a mouse running across the room.  My father grumbled under his breath, “I guess we’ll have to get a cat.”  We all heard it.  The next day found us in a woman’s living room looking at her Siamese kittens—she had two left.  One was a blue point male and the other was a seal point female.  The male looked us over and wandered off.  The female snuggled into my sister’s lap and purred.  Can you guess which one we brought home?

     Once she got to our house, she spent the rest of the day and half the night snooping into every nook and cranny.  She earned her name, Snoopy.  Finally exhausted, she climbed into my bed and slept with me.  From that day until twenty one years later, she and I were inseparable.  Where I went so did she.  She would ride in my bicycle basket to the stables, spend the day there, and ride back home with me in the evening.  She would always come when I whistled for her from wherever she had wandered.

     We used to laugh at my father when, after all the cats we had over the years, we caught him petting her and talking baby talk to her.  When I got married, she came with me.  She melted my Dear Hubby’s cat hating heart and that of his father’s too.  She ruled over and outlived 3 dogs.  When she left us in her twenty-first year, our hearts broke.