Continuing from yesterday recreating the older posts that did not come over from moving my blog.
On to Braveheart of the Clan of the Fluffy Tail. Braveheart is Little Foot’s sister and is also just over a year old. Where Little Foot is cute, Braveheart is beautiful. She has, as her name suggests, a long fluffy tail. Sometimes we call her question mark tail because when she is happy her tail curves over her back like a question mark. She got her name because she was the braver of the two kittens and was always exploring. Blackie was always running after her and chasing her back to safety. Once mom took off last year she was the first one to tame. It only took a couple days of feeding her before I could pet her and when I picked her up for the first time to go to the vet she went right into the carrier. She loves her big brother Tank. She likes to sit in the cat tower with him and sleeps next to him in the bed at night. It seems like she and Little Foot have switched personalities. Where Little Foot has become braver, Braveheart has now relaxed into being a house cat, sleeping, playing and coming in for scratches during the day. The only bad habit she has is that she has figured out how to open the cupboards. Every cupboard in our kitchen has a table knife through the handles. This keeps cats out of the cupboards. But Braveheart has figured out that if she grabs the bottom of the door and bangs it often enough the knife will fall out. But she only does it when the food bowl is empty so she is forgiven.
Update on Braveheart - Like her sister Braveheart is now 2 1/2 years old. We have abandoned trying to keep her or Little Foot out of the cabinets since they have shown us their great skill in catching and dispatching mice. Out here in the country mice do get in and the other three cats only play with them.
This one still makes me cry. From August of 2015.
Morris - I cleaned the weeds around Morris’ grave this weekend so I think it is time to talk about Morris. I still have to occasionally remind myself that there was nothing else I could have done. Morris was a big orange cat who showed up on our back porch late last fall. He was super friendly to people. Unlike most of our cats who dive under the bed the second a stranger shows up, Morris knew no strangers. Anyone who went on the back porch got loved on by Morris. Unfortunately he was also an intact and rather well-endowed male. And he was a fighter. He chased the neighbor’s cat up a tree more than once and he got into several fights with Nosey. If it hadn’t been for that I think I could have talked Clif into letting him come inside. But with two neutered males inside already it just couldn’t happen. He did love the ladies though. Blackie and another cat we call Tuxie were always with him. He was so friendly with people I figured he was either lost or had been dumped. I put his picture up on the Louisa County Animal Shelters page and hoped someone would come for him. But no one ever did. Since he couldn’t come inside to recover and it was already very cold I decided to wait until spring to get him neutered with hopes he wouldn’t fight anymore and I could bring him in. I bought him a doghouse and put blankets in it and he slept in it every night.
I took him to the vet in the spring. He went so easily into the carrier. The plan was for him to be checked for a microchip and given a physical, then stay overnight and be neutered the next day. On the way home after dropping him off I daydreamed about him having a microchip and being reunited with a loving family but it was not to be. Shortly after I got home I got a call from the vet. Morris was FIV+ and had a serious upper respiratory infection so he could not be neutered. And he had damage to his eyes from his fighting and would soon go blind. He couldn’t go back outside because of his eyes and he was a danger to other cats in the neighborhood because of being FIV+. He couldn’t come inside because he couldn’t be neutered and there was nowhere to keep him away from our other cats. Even neutered he probably would have still been a fighter because of his age. I checked a couple shelters and they couldn’t take him other than to put him to sleep. He had been a friend and I couldn’t let him go alone. So I held him while they put him to sleep and promised I would look after his ladies for him. His ashes are buried in the garden with a plant and a plaster cat to remember him by.