Do they know what they've got?

I currently have a lapful of drooling Pokey Smokey. Despite the
puddle-o-drool on one draft of my term paper, I can't move this happy
boy. Smokey is just in kitty heaven right now.

It's hard to imagine how thin and hungry and dull-furred and timid he
was when I first met him living wild on the base.

At the time, I was living in a rather shabby apartment building with
drugs, domestic abuse, child welfare investigations, noise violations,
bogus fire alarms and auto theft being par for the course in our
neighbourhood. And yet, Smokey thought that our apartment was the
greatest palace ever--after all it had a roof, a couch, fresh water and
unlimited food. Our new apartment's even better because all the
windows go down to the floor, the better for cats to sit in front of
them and gloat at all the losers who have to be outside instead of in
Smokey's awesome home.

He continues to slaver affection on absolutely /anyone/ who is willing
to give him a scritch or a bite of sandwich.

Comparatively, the bitties have no apparent memory of the fact that
they were found on a slab of styrofoam behind a university lab. As far
as they're concerned, Dylan's their natural mother and they've got
nothing to be grateful for--providing for them is his /job/. They've
got no clue how lucky they were not to have either died of exposure on
that trashpile, or been put to sleep by an overburdened local animal
shelter swamped by over 50 cats coming in daily that summer.

Nocturne...well, I don't know about her. She seems happy to be out of
the animal shelter, but we could be keeping her in /far/ more
luxury....

--Fil

Enfilade wrote:
I currently have a lapful of drooling Pokey Smokey. Despite the
puddle-o-drool on one draft of my term paper, I can't move this happy
boy. Smokey is just in kitty heaven right now.

It's hard to know if they remember their earlier life, but Smokey
certainly knows now that he is a very lucky kittyboy. I sometimes wonder
if Caliban remembers coming on the ferry from Tallinn to Helsinki, and
if he remembers his real mother, the street cat in Tallinn. He was much
too young when he was separated from her, I'm quite sure about that. He
can't have been more than 8-10 weeks old when I first saw him, and then
he'd been here for several weeks already. ( But he's grown into a fine
young catman. We are celebrating his first birthday tomorrow (Saturday).

--
Marina, Miranda and Caliban. In loving memory of Frank and Nikki.
marina (dot) kurten (at) iki (dot) fi
Stories and pics at http://koti.welho.com/mkurten/
Pics at http://uk.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/frankiennikki/
and http://community.webshots.com/user/frankiennikki

"Monique Y. Mudama" wrote in message
...
On 2006-04-14, Enfilade penned:

Comparatively, the bitties have no apparent memory of the fact that
they were found on a slab of styrofoam behind a university lab.

Sometimes I wonder if Oscar remembers being raised by her feral mom.
She was such a tiny thing when I got her. I think the vet said she
was 10 weeks at that point.

It's hard to imagine her surviving in the wild, even with a caretaker.
She's just so ... spoiled.


I don't know. Once in a while Molly gives me a look that says, "Hey I've
taken care of myself before and I can do it again. Now lets do things
around here my way!"

Jo

Comparatively, the bitties have no apparent memory of the fact that
they were found on a slab of styrofoam behind a university lab.

Sometimes I wonder if Oscar remembers being raised by her feral mom.
She was such a tiny thing when I got her. I think the vet said she
was 10 weeks at that point.


When I met Rita at the shelter, she'd been transferred from another
shelter to try and find her a home. Personally, I think they transferred
her over so I could pick her up. I have no clue what her early life
was like, but she's absolutely fearless. Not afraid of thunder,
lightning, or even the sucky monster. Never saw a cat like her.

Jane
- owned and operated by Princess Rita

Enfilade wrote:
I currently have a lapful of drooling Pokey Smokey. Despite the
puddle-o-drool on one draft of my term paper, I can't move this happy
boy. Smokey is just in kitty heaven right now.

It's hard to imagine how thin and hungry and dull-furred and timid he
was when I first met him living wild on the base.


Tanada Remembers. She is still terrified of all pre-adolescents. The
woman who had her before we got her thought it was cute that her
toddlers liked to chase Tanada and poke her and grab her tail and all
the other things toddlers who have not been properly trained do.

Huey Remembers. He adores his PawRob and takes care of him. He loves
all the aviation people that he's met. After all, they rescued him from
the airfield where he was dumped. He has not particular fears of being
dumped, other than having panic attacks if he can see any of the bottom
of the feeding trough.

Sonya Remembers. She is very loving but very leery of male humans. She
is always aware of who or what is around her, and though she craves
human love, she always breaks off scritching sessions as though she
doesn't want the hurt of being rejected. She'd rather be the one who
does the rejecting. Her scars are subtle, but they are still there
after over a year with ys.

Pine Cone remembers. He's terrified of white vehicles. He is afraid
whenever we take him anywhere, as though he thinks we'd dump him. He is
leery of new people, especially men. He adores Amanda and demands to be
with her whenever he feels nervous. He also gets upset if he can see
any of the bottom of the food trough.

QC Remembers. She mothers all the new arrivals here, until she feels
that they can make it on their own. She's a sort of psychological
nurse, and takes care of those who are scared, traumatized or in need of
comfort. Sometimes she just needs lots of comfort from us in return.
When it is given she revs her purr motors and nuzzles and drools her
relief that we still love her.

Merlin Remembers. He still acts amazed that he is allowed on the
furniture, has toys to play with, cats to talk to, cat nip to sniff and
eat, and can run and play in our house without being yelled at. He is
the most subtle of the rescues, but then the abuse was more subtle for
him.

Qui Gun Kit Remembers. He remembers he can have all the food he wants
and therefor doesn't have to worry about the trough being empty, the
other cats will play with him, he can go into the enclosure and be safe
from other animals, all the other cats spoil him and let him dictate the
rules of the games, and that the humans as well as the other cats take
care of him and make sure that he has a happy and fun life. QGK doesn't
seem to have any fears. That is the best kind of reward for his grandmeow.

Pam S. happy to be a part of each of their lives

On 2006-04-14, Jo Firey penned:

I don't know. Once in a while Molly gives me a look that says, "Hey
I've taken care of myself before and I can do it again. Now lets do
things around here my way!"

Hahah!

I've seen lots of looks from Oscar, but none that seemed to translate
that way.

--
monique, who spoils Oscar unmercifully

pictures: http://www.bounceswoosh.org/rpca

"Tanada" wrote in message
ink.net...

snip lovely stories of kitties who remember

I'd love to see pics of your kitties again Pam. Do you have them posted
somewhere? I need to put faces to these names again :-)

Susan M
Otis and Chester

This is a wonderful post Fil. The purrsonalities of your kitties really
jump out from this and I've often wondered the same thing about our boys.

I think that, very slowly and dimly, it may *possibly* be registering with
Otis that home is safe and his other crazy ideas are not! This after the
fourth highly dramatic disappearing act that he's had - the Halloween
disappearance of 5 years ago, the new home disorientation walkabout of 3
years ago, the cattery breakout of 2 years ago, and the flooded basement
escapade of last summer. He's taken a day or two to become un-feral after
being rescued from each of these adventures - his instincts had kicked in
when he was lost and he just did what he had to do to survive. After he was
able to relax being home for a day or two, he dissolved into a puddle of
affection and gratefulness. After all, his highness could *easily* take
care of himself, don't ya know, but this free food and lavishing of
attention is *much* better! He's sticking close to home now, a velcro kitty
with an absolute affection for meowmie. Either he's getting more sedate in
his old age or he's learned something.

But I imagine him being lost as a 3.5 month old kitten in a rough part of
Calgary in early March. His long tail arching up to touch the top of his
head and proudly showing off his bits. He had unstoppable energy and
confidence. He would have reached a bad end certainly if he had not been
captured and put up for adoption. Probably would have reached a bad end if
somebody else had adopted him. In fact, I wondered if his previous family
just turned him out because he was such a hoolikitten. In any case, they
didn't go looking for him. He's just been a typical teenager all his life -
oblivious to consequences and thinking that bad things just happen to other
less athletic cats!

Chester, I believe, remembers. We got him a couple of hours before being
PTS at the shelter. I think he was turned in by an owner and he knows what
it's like to be abandoned. He is a grateful, statesman-like gentle-cat who
graciously and thankfully accepts our hospitality. After these ten years,
there is still a thin veil of reserve - as if he expects us to be turncoats
in the end. My poor dear Chester - NEVER!

Susan M
Otis and Chester


"Enfilade" wrote in message
oups.com...
I currently have a lapful of drooling Pokey Smokey. Despite the
puddle-o-drool on one draft of my term paper, I can't move this happy
boy. Smokey is just in kitty heaven right now.

It's hard to imagine how thin and hungry and dull-furred and timid he
was when I first met him living wild on the base.

At the time, I was living in a rather shabby apartment building with
drugs, domestic abuse, child welfare investigations, noise violations,
bogus fire alarms and auto theft being par for the course in our
neighbourhood. And yet, Smokey thought that our apartment was the
greatest palace ever--after all it had a roof, a couch, fresh water and
unlimited food. Our new apartment's even better because all the
windows go down to the floor, the better for cats to sit in front of
them and gloat at all the losers who have to be outside instead of in
Smokey's awesome home.

He continues to slaver affection on absolutely /anyone/ who is willing
to give him a scritch or a bite of sandwich.

Comparatively, the bitties have no apparent memory of the fact that
they were found on a slab of styrofoam behind a university lab. As far
as they're concerned, Dylan's their natural mother and they've got
nothing to be grateful for--providing for them is his /job/. They've
got no clue how lucky they were not to have either died of exposure on
that trashpile, or been put to sleep by an overburdened local animal
shelter swamped by over 50 cats coming in daily that summer.

Nocturne...well, I don't know about her. She seems happy to be out of
the animal shelter, but we could be keeping her in /far/ more
luxury....

--Fil

Susan M wrote:

"Tanada" wrote in message
ink.net...


snip lovely stories of kitties who remember


I'd love to see pics of your kitties again Pam. Do you have them posted
somewhere? I need to put faces to these names again :-)

Susan M
Otis and Chester



I haven't added anything new for quite a while, but the albums are at:

http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/tanadashoes/

I deleted the fuzzy folder information, but if this doesn't work, you
can get there through the fuzzy album url.

The owners thank you. They are beautiful and know it. They just want
everyone else to know it too. Silly cats, as if they could be anything
but beautiful, or adorable.

Pam S.

In article , Marina
wrote:

Enfilade wrote:
I currently have a lapful of drooling Pokey Smokey. Despite the
puddle-o-drool on one draft of my term paper, I can't move this happy
boy. Smokey is just in kitty heaven right now.

It's hard to know if they remember their earlier life, but Smokey
certainly knows now that he is a very lucky kittyboy. I sometimes wonder
if Caliban remembers coming on the ferry from Tallinn to Helsinki, and
if he remembers his real mother, the street cat in Tallinn. He was much
too young when he was separated from her, I'm quite sure about that. He
can't have been more than 8-10 weeks old when I first saw him, and then
he'd been here for several weeks already. ( But he's grown into a fine
young catman. We are celebrating his first birthday tomorrow (Saturday).

Rhonda sends we-share-a-birthday purrs. She will be 4.