On 1/13/2017 10:30 PM, John Kasupski wrote:
P.S. - I noted elsewhere in this newsgroup that I've only had Minnie since
Halloween and already I could write a book. I fear I've come close to doing
exactly that here. Sorry about the length of this post. And in case anyone has
made it all the way down here and is wondering - NO, Minnie will not be judged
in comparison to Goldie. She could poop gold nuggets three times a day for the
next fifteen years, thereby making me a billionaire, and measuring up to Goldie
would still be impossible. I will NEVER forget him! But Minnie already has, and
will continue to have, a special place in my heart that's her very own. - JDK

I didn't want another cat after Persia (RB 2014), either. She was my
first cat and, as I've already noted, she was quite clever. That trick
with the can of Fancy Feast (FF) in the pantry was even more impressive
because the FF was sitting next to an identical size can of chopped
green chili peppers. Apparently cats can smell through the can.

As far as cats getting themselves into and out of situations, where I
lived when Persia demanded entry was a ground level apartment (actually,
they were all that way). There was a washer & dryer in the hallway
hidden behind two metal sliding bi-fold doors. Persia managed to open
one of the doors, jump on on the dryer and then down into the small
space between the dryer and the wall. Ooops! She couldn't jump back
up! Not enough room to leap, no way to get a grip on the side of the
dryer. If I hadn't been home and heard her meowing who knows how long
she'd have been there? I moved the dryer, picked her up. She proceeded
to give me a "I meant to do that" look and pranced off. LOL

I wound up having to put rubber bands on the knobs on the bi-fold doors
so she couldn't open them again. Not for lack of trying! I'm not sure
what the heck was so interesting about the laundry room.

I digress. Persia was my first cat. She was likely 2-3 years old when
she came to live with me (the vet's best guess). She was about 16 when
she died.

I didn't want another cat. But in June, 2015 someone where I live now
died. She had (turned out) 3 cats. One was my cat Buffy, an orange
tabby. Another was a Tonkinese boy named Frankie. I learned there had
been a third cat, Suz-Q but she had already been adopted. Anyway, turns
out my now cat Buffy was regularly beaten up and bullied by Frankie.
The person who was adopting out the cats had to lock Frankie in the
sunroom so I could meet Buffy. She was hiding on a chair under a glass
dining room table. Guess she didn't know we could see her. LOL

Buffy was very shy... when I went to get her we had to entice her into
the soft carrier I'd brought with me with a bit of wet food in a bowl.
She didn't put up a fuss in the carrier, either. I brought her home and
let her out in the bedroom. (That's where the food/water is and the
litterbox is in the master bathroom. Here's your new home!)

Long story short, Buffy hid under the bed for a while but soon ventured
out. I looked under the bed, couldn't find her. I finally did find her
on a chair under the dining room table. It has a tablecloth over it.
So, she was on the chair, it's like being invisible. G I spoke to her
softly, tapped my fingers on the floor. "It's okay, Buffy." She jumped
down and came to me.

She finally figured out there isn't a 'Frankie' going to beat her up.
It didn't take her long to become a regular love-bug. She does
occasionally jump at loud noises.

Jill