Kittens

No, it's not Mary Jo the cat Wench, but Jo the Cabbage Patch one, but talking about cats. I like cats, but for various reasons I've never owned one. Or been owned by one. That hasn't stopped me using them in books, most notably in Dangerous Joy, where I created a furore by killing a cat! Well, the villain did, but all the same, the horror rippled around the web.

Minor spoiler, but the cat comes back. :)

That was a magical Irish kitten called Gardeen, and I was touched the other day when a friend pointed me to a blog where someone had named their new kitten Gardeen after mine. You can read it here.

Have I had any other notable cats in books? I don't think so, until the cat-rabbit of Hesse in The Secret Wedding. Remind me if I've forgotten. Oh yes, there was the story in The Christmas Cat.

This picture is by Linda Bucklin. Check out the many gorgeous cat fractal pictures she has up on her website.

I've been a bit worried recently by lack of an animal intruder in the third book in the rakish trilogy, The Secret Duke. The structure I came up for myself for no particular reason was to start with strangers meeting at an inn and to have an odd animal. Coquette pranced into A Lady's Secret, and then Tabby turned up in The Secret Wedding. But where was the animal for Thorn's book?

The other day I realized that it had been there all the time, because The Secret Duke has a prologue set in 1760. Yes, the meeting at an inn -- the Black Rat in Dover. Not, you'll guess, the most salubrious establishment in town. And yes, the snippet I put into the contest was the beginning of that. The story picks up overlapping the time at the end of The Secret Wedding. You'll even revisit the Olympian Revels from the point of view of Bella Barstowe, attending for her own nefarious purposes.

If you've read The Secret Wedding you'll remember that at the end Thorn has temporary custody of Tabby and her two kittens. From the look of things, one is a Manx cat and the other is ordinary.

So clearly, the animal is one or both kittens. Because I'm not a cat person, I'm collecting information about kittens from a few weeks old to a few months. Share some, please, especially stories of cute or extraordinary antics.  As inducement, I'm going to award naming rights to two commenters. One will go to the person with the best story -- best being completely subjective, of course. The other will be a random pick. I'll also send each a copy of Dangerous Joy if you don't already have it.

Now, I reserve the right to reject name suggestions until we find one that works. After all, it has to work in the 18th century and be vaguely plausible for the situation, but I'd be delighted if I could name a kitten after someone's beloved pet, living or dead.

Go to it!

To the right is the cover of the repub of my second book, The Stanforth Secrets, which is set in my home area on the Lancashire coast. It will be out next year. Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed, the first, will be out in October.

Jo :)

Comments

[Danielle]

Our cat who we put down about a year ago was named Georgie. We have two cats now who's names are Buttons and Harley and they are both characters.

[Liz Brooks]

My cat Bastian is a food mastermind. Once when he was a kitten he toppled over a can of Pringles, popped the top off and ate half the can. A few months ago he tore open a plastic package of hamburger buns and ate three whole buns. Most recently he ate 1/3 of a blueberry pie I had sitting on the counter tightly wrapped in aluminum foil.

He is an orange tabby-see his pic here: http://web.me.com/lizzybee

[Mary Schreiner]

When my first two cats died, a friend of mine gave me one of her new kittens: Simon. When we discovered Simon was actually a female, we renamed her Dakota.

As a kitten, one of Dakota's favorite parts of Christmas was trying to climb into the real, fully decorated tree. We had been successful preventing her from doing too much damage until coming home from Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. After a few minutes of searching for her we heard a soft "rowr" from the tree. Yes, my innocent black kitten with the white belly and socks, had found her way to the veritable top of our 8-foot tree. I grabbed a spray bottle of water and shot at her to get her down.

My mistake. BOOM! Down comes the entire tree in Dakota's attempt to high tail away from the spray. Many precious and glue-sticked ornaments were lost in the battle.

On a side note, Dakota's pension for climbing trees has never left her. Recently, she spent over a week stuck a good 35 feet in a tree. In fact, she's been stuck high in trees at least four other times and has miraculously survived each time. We still don't know how she does it - we've yet to see her get herself down.

[Sara]

I have saved many kittens or cats over the years. One we kept was a tiny kitten named Miracle, but we also call her Mimi. She had been abandoned in our neighborhood, or she was feral, not sure which. She adopted our dog Pepper. Pepper adopted her and they used to groom each other. For a long time they slept cuddled up together. She has a crooked tail as she was hit by a car, and that was how we caught her. Had to put a towel over her as she is very fiesty. We have recently been trying to make her an outdoor cat again; she scratches the litter box all night, very annoying. She does not like being outdoors after all this time and climbed up me, up the wall, honestly up the wall, very high ceilings to the top. She fell back down onto me, scratched and ran up a counter onto the top of the cabinets. To me the moral is you really can't make kittens do anything they do not want to do. But they can make you, wether it is smacking you in the face when you try to go to sleep to scratch them, bring them back inside when they get scared, or cleaning up giant bugs they caught, spit out and are limping away from the kitty, because kitty rules.

[Jolene Ehret]

Well the only story I have is about my Kitticat, her beginnings and how she came to live with me.
She was an abandoned kitty, and adopted by my neighbor who along with his mini dachsy Junior raised her. She was bottle-fed, and mothered by the male dachsy (who was later hit by a car and is now on the rainbow bridge with my Freddy (who was 12 years old), and Honey (who died after a reaction to her shots). Well Kitticat grew up and at a early age had a litter of 5 healthy kittens. She was a very good mother. Some time later she got into something poisonous and almost died. Once again daddy person nursed her back to health. As the kittens got older and her daddy person adopted a couple more kittens Kitticat started coming over to my house. At first she just came to check it out and before long she decided to stay. She knew my mini-schnauzer Angel when she was younger.. but living together was a gradual acclimation. They are still wary of each other but now and again have a good play time. Kitticat is now my cat. I asked the neighbor if he minded and he said not at all. So she got her shots,fixed and chipped. She is still a free spirit but when she comes home she comes to my house. She is not overly affectionate but does lay near me or on my paper when I am trying to read. She is my Kitticat. Not a very original name but it has stuck..
That's my story. Jolene Ehret

[Kathy Kremer]

Cats seem to have an inborn ability to rule their people. "Dogs have masters, cats have staff."

We've had several cats in our married life. There was a stray tabby cat who followed our daughter home from the bus stop. She was named Waffles. She was always very independent and allowed us to care for her only on her own terms. She refused to be an indoor kitty and would often run out when someone opened a door. She was able climb trees even without her claws and often brought us little gifts of field mice or birds. She liked to sit on top of our van in the driveway (the better to get at birds). One time we didn't notice her up there and we were some miles down the road before we were informed by a honking motorist that there was a cat on the roof. She also stowed away on our boat but didn't seem to enjoy the sail much.

We had another cat named Kwashiorkor (known as Kwashi). He was a beautiful seal point Siamese. We called him that because he looked like one of those starving children with the skinny arms and legs and a big belly. He ate like he was starving all the time. He was also very playful. He would run up the stairs and jump out at us to scare us.

Another of our cats, A'isha (She who must be obeyed), was a very picky eater. We had been feeding her little moist packets which were expensive. As we were poor students, we decided to try a dry food because it was cheaper. We thought that if she were hungry she would eat it eventually. For 3 days the food sat untouched in her bowl. On the fourth day she made sure we were watching as she stalked over to her bowl and knocked it across the kitchen. That was the end of dry food.

[theo]

Great cat stories :)

I think I've mentioned here before that my cat, Molly, lives in a lower kitchen cupboard that is empty now of everything but her cat bed, or on top of my open cupboards, under the ceiling, where she bats her little toys onto the counter. (I no longer make food anywhere near her as I've ended up with her piggy, some kind of crackly think DD1 bought her, and a rubber ball.) All this because the rescue dobe we have thought she'd make a great snack when he first came home with us.

We had a huge red dobe, 130 pounds, who Molly would sleep with, but then, she was a little kitty when we got her and Buster wouldn't have hurt anyone. Not that Chance's intention is to hurt her, and he'd probably leave her alone once they had one free-for-all.

Anyway, sorry, all this to say that since we have another dobe who came to us as a puppy, Molly has taken to sneaking out of the cupboard and sits on the arm of the chair, looking out the window. She'll even tolerate Chance as long as he stays five feet from her.

I think it must be senile dementia that's made her lose her mind. Either that or four years in the cupboard is enough.

[Martha Andrews]

We had our first cat about 13 years ago when I found I was allergic to dogs but not cats (Dr still scratching his head as this is backwards!!)

"KATIE" our kitten would play hide and seek with my hubby. He would sit on the sofa, lean down and Katie would be in back of it.

Joe would jump up looking over the back saying Peek a boo and Katie would leap and meow then run around the sofa and tag Joe with her paw.

When he was upstairs--she would go up and peek around the corner at him (in his den) and he'd see her and they'd play the game around the stairwell wall.

Once while playing peek a boo-Joe stood perfectly still not moving a muscle and then Katie would peek at him and finally came over--tagged him with her paw and he leaped into the air! SHE jumped straight up into the air! Her fur was lifted up too!

When he'd watch TV--she'd jump up on the back of the sofa and "tag" Joe to invite him to play!

She also would go up into his den and pat him and pat him till he'd follow her--she'd stay just a few steps ahead till he caught up--and lead him to our cellar door.

Then she'd meow and tell him to open the door--that was to let WILLIE our new kitten up that was stuck in our cellar. (cellar in this old house not basement).

Every time there was a problem with Willie or her food dish was empty--she'd come to us--meow and pat our leg to follow her to what needed fixed!

She died last winter and is missed very much.

She was a family member! She knew when I felt ill and would go to bed in the daytime and go with me to lay tight against me but if I just went up to put away clothes--she'd ignore me!

Cats are really friends and Goddesses!

[Mary Schirmer]

We adopted two brown tabby kittens from the animal shelter when they were only 6 weeks old. They were brothers we named Smaug and Grendel. They were quite inseperable until Grendel died of kidney disease when he was 10.

When they were kittens, Smaug went missing. Grendel did his best Lassie imitation near the corner of the kitchen cabinets. We looked inside but did not see a kitten. Finally we saw a little paw coming down in the corner under the cabinets. Our cabinets are stock cabinets and the back corner is hollow. The cabinets have a little overhang at the bottom and it creates a small open spot in the corner big enough for a kitten to crawl into, but not big enough for the kitten to crawl back out. My husband was able to remove some floor molding and a kick plate so that Smaug could get out.

Another time Grendel started crying and doing the Lassie imitation in a different part of the kitchen. We weren't sure what the problem was, so we started opening cabinets. We didn't find Smaug in the cabinets. Finally, I started opening drawers. I don't know why, I didn't expect to find anything. One of the drawers wouldn't open very far and I spotted a tail inside. Smaug had crawled into the drawer from the cabinet below.

Grendel was a character and quite stubborn. Whenever the doorbell rang, Grendel would run to the door to greet and inspect anyone who came in. He loved tomato sauce and would come sniffing around the table whenever we had spagetti. I ended up giving him a small plate of sauce when we had spagetti so he would leave us alone.

[Susan/DC]

We have two cats who are siblings: Isabella and Catullus. Isabella was named by one of my sons as an Italianate version of Isabel because we got her just before Hurricane Isabel hit our area six years ago. Catullus is named after the Roman poet (one son was in high school Latin at the time) and because we love that his nickname is, quite fittingly, "Cat", When we croon to him to say he's a "good Cat", it's both a general and a specific statement. I know I'm biased, but naming a pet after a Latin poet would be fitting for a classically educated Georgian hero, especially one such as Catullus who was known for his poems to his lover, his wine, and his need for money. The high school Latin teacher said Catullus was a gift to Latin teachers everywhere because he wrote about things that interested the late adolescent students in her classes, much more than dry disquisitions on statecraft from other Roman authors of the time.

A friend told us that if we held and petted the cats when they were young, they'd be more affectionate when they matured, and it's certainly true that they both love attention. I'm not sure if it's that early attention, because they think they are dogs, or the strain of Maine coon cat in their bloodlines that makes them want to sit in our laps and follow us around the house.

[Cassia]

I, like many of you, have lived with a significant number cats. I can't talk about all them so I'll just say that current little cat, Pippa, believes herself to be deposed eastern princess in disguise. She refuses to share a litter box with other cats. She's very small, about four pounds, has legs so long supermodels would envy her, and her carriage would any lady involved in court intrigue. She carries her tail as if it is the most elegant of trains-except when she is fluttering it like the most precious fans. She is cunning, courageous and capable of ruling over the three male cats she shares her dominion with while sitting prettily on the back of her favourite chair.

[Debora Hosey]

I'd never seen a cat up close and personal when growing up...my mother hated cats and would have a meltdown if you even mentioned them to her..so when I got married, I made sure my new life included lots of cats!
Two of my favorites: Sherlock Holmes of sainted memory who recently died at 19 years old...he was toothless and front clawless (sorry, he was the cat I'd ever had declawed) he was still able to catch five field mice that that heinous Prof. Moriarty must have released into the house. He had to chase him all over the place to get him to let go of them...he was supremely proud and full of himself for days...
His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, fondly called Welly, does indeed have a haughty, aristocratic manner about him...he sits on top of the wardrobe and when you walk unsuspectingly by, he bats at your head/hair and then gives you an innocent look...oh, and I can't forgot the late Dr. Watson curled up napping on a dinner plate on the dining room table where it was formally set for dinner...
Yours in felines,
Debora Hosey
[email protected]

[Laura T]

I've always wanted to have two kittens (cats) named Frick and Frack.

[Leslie Lanning]

In my experience with having cats, I have found that its quite entertaining to have more than one and to have them when they're young. I had two cats at one point, a brother and sister who gave me much laughter. We had monkey grass in the front yard and they would play in it quite a lot. One would be on each side of it and they would attack each other through the holes in the rows. The attacker would reach through and grab the victim's feet and the victim would jump two feet straight up, landing where the other's paw had come through the grass only to find it was gone again. They were Boots and Brett. They were characters.

[Diane Huff]

My favorite cat was one that disappeared one night at the beginning of winter. But the memories I'm going to share are when he was a kitten of about 8 weeks old. Flirt, was a beauty, black and white tuxedo markings, came home to us when he was 8 weeks old. The first night he sat on my shoulder and sucked on my ear. Whenever he could that was his favorite perch. But as he grew he of course got to heavy to perch there. He also had the most unusual gait when he walked. I don't know if it was because he was so sleek, but it was like watching a panther moving, with muscles rippling. I never got over his disappearance that night and hope he was taken in by someone.

[Sherrie Holmes]

I have two cats: Lord Byron and Christopher the Assassin. Byron is self-involved, extremely vocal, and has a huge vocabulary. He's not exactly the brightest Crayon in the box. One time I saw a wild bunny hop toward a bush in my yard. I watched Byron spend 15 minutes sneaking up on that bush, hoping to pounce on the bunny, not realizing the animal had departed 14 minutes earlier.

Christopher the Assassin is so named because he is the Bwana, the Great White Hunter. He'll kill and eat anything he can catch, even if it outweighs him. He's the most bloodthirsty cat I've ever owned.

I've had many cats in the past. Here are the names of some of them: Isabeau, Critter, Stiletto, Pussyfoot, PC (short for Porch Cat), Pandora, Kaylee, Robson,Be-bop-biddy-boo, Meatball, Laptop.

[Susan Wilbanks]

My post-college roommate and I had two pure black cats, sisters, that she named Clio and Sabine (they were primarily hers, and she kept them when we split up, she to marry, I to go to England for a year). She was insistent that it was Clio and not Cleo, because she named her for the Greek muse rather than the Egyptian queen. And Sabine was for the Griffin and Sabine books.

Clio and Sabine loved to sit in our window and watch the world go by, which made them the perfect living Halloween decorations. Trick-or-treaters loved our house.

I'm now in a cat-free household, since my husband is severely allergic, but my 5-year-old daughter makes up for it by collecting stuffed cats, lions, and tigers, some of which she names, some of which she requests us to name. At last count, we have Sasha Lion, Wendell Tiger, Winston Tiger, Leo Lion (a girl--my daughter insists Leo is a girl's name), Wendy Kitty, Catherine Kitty, Edward Kitty, The Brown Kitty (to whom no names have stuck), Silver Kitty, and Edward Kitty. But I'm probably missing a few, and that's not even getting into Waffle the Horse, Arthur the Horse, Sarah-dog, etc. My daughter, she informs us, is a *collector*.

[Brenda]

My sister and her soon to be husband were traveling across Canada to visit me. Someplace in the middle of Alberta they heard the strangest cries coming from behind their cabin. My sister thought it the weirdest crow she'd ever heard. Her fiancee said that's no crow, we have to find the poor thing. Searching hard they found a teeny coal-black kitten so hoarse it could barely mew. Of course they fed the poor lost baby and brought her with them. For the rest of the drive the nameless kit rode on my brother-in-law's shoulder purring into his neck. He gave her to me and I named her Black Minaloushe after WB Yeats's poem The Cat and the Moon.

[Liz Brooks]

I forgot to share that my cat Bastian also loves my little boy. When we came home from the hospital with him, after several sleepless night I accidentally slept through my infant son crying-I woke to my cat putting his paw on my face-to wake me up.

[Louis]

Years ago we had a pair of Manx cats. They were rescued by my BIL from the road in front of his house. Someone had put them in a bag and tossed them by the side ofe the road. Both were female and became pregant at the same time, helped each other with the birth of their kittens and nursed each others babies. They were delightful cats and traveled in the car with us on trips.
Currently have four cats from 18 years on down.

[theo]

My friend once had a lop-eared bun who would rush to the door when you rang the bell and then would jump around your feet, sniffing you then standing on her hind legs and putting her little paws on your leg waiting to see what you'd do. She was a dog in a bunny body.

But we're talking about cats... ;-)

[Dorotha Holloway]

Our 14 year old "Sable the Unstable" stable cat, lost her life in a auto accident May 5th. She gained her title as a 4 week old abandoned kitten. My daughter smuggled her in with our 4 datseys and she grew up thinking she was a hound. She loved rolling in mud, chasing horses, and seekning up on unsuspecting humans. We miss her very much, the only other member of the cat family I have ever known was a blue Manx that was know as Smoke to all who met him.

[MJ]

Our cat, Mew, came into our lives when our daughters were 10 and 8. One day, Daughter #1 runs downstairs and says,"Mom, Dad, there's a mouse in the bathtub!" to which my husband replied, "Drop Mew in there and she'll take care of it." Thereupon followed sounds of the girls trundling into the bathroom with Mew. "Dad! Dad! Mew's letting the mouse crawl all over her. It's on her back!" So Dad had to fish Mew out of the tub, then get rid of the mouse. I just sat there laughing.

[Rebecca]

I've had cats since before I can remember - have had 4 rescue kittens since my marriage. But the cat who may qualify for your tale is one I grew up with, Ink.
As the name suggests, all black with 2 white hairs on her chest and school-bus yellow eyes. We lived in Chicago at that time, in an old converted brownstone (previously grand single household, at that time a rooming house my parents managed) with a multi-story back porch that Ink was put out onto every night. One night, some fools apparently decided that the people in the house must have something worth stealing, so they attempted to climb up to the first floor porch and break in. Ink would have none of it, and growled. If you've never heard a cat grown, if you can't see them you might well think it's a very large dog. The would-be burglars apparently thought that, and climbed back down. Not hearing barking, they then climbed back up and again Ink growled. This went on until the commotion woke my father, and he came out onto the porch. Seeing the ladder, he used the payphone (yup, we were POOR) to call the police, who (this being Chicago) took long enough to arrive that the burglars were gone. Ink, however, lived to the ripe old age of 19, adored and fed fresh chicken livers daily. Other cats we've had... Friday the 13th, another black female, received as a birthday gift on Friday the 13th; Trouble, an inbred grey tiger/tabby who ultimately died of liver failure due to being inbred (and oh, did she ever deserve that name, but we loved her!); Buster, otherwise known as "The Great Orange Hunter," who was on mouse/shrew patrol in the garage and doing very well when he decided to jump on my husband's classic Corvette to survey his kingdom - no more garage for him!; Spook, a tiny black kitten dumped by the bowling alley where my nephew works for is spooked of everything and everyone except me. After 4 years, she still hides from my husband and daughter, but will come out and sit and purr for me for hours. I was surprised though, Ms. Beverly, to hear that you had never had a cat - you seemed to catch their demanding ways well in the stories you mentioned, and don't forget Jetta from your Rogues series!

[Maureen]

We adopted two kittens last Fourth of July weekend which is why one of them is named Liberty. The other kitten is Curious and he definitely lives up to his name. He can't stay out of anything new. They are two males who are neutered so they don't really hurt each other but they do fight. They were from the same litter so they were used to fighting with each other when we adopted them at eight weeks old. We would just watch them run around and then they would run at each other and at the last moment sometimes they would each just pop up in the air instead of attacking each other. When we first brought them home we had to watch them all the time because they got into everything. One time I hear a crash and find Liberty on a shelf and Curious on the ground with a piece of broken glass in his mouth from the broken vase.

[Dawn]

We have 3 cats Romulus (Rom for short) and Remus who are brothers and came all the way from Bolivia and Marley from our area. The brothers were so small they could fit in your hand and were a riot when they were so tiny but they still are all a riot. They would hide under dressers and anything else that had a very tiny gap that only they could fit under while Marley tried to get them. Christmas time they had something agenst Santas Hat and would drag it around and take it to a basket they played in like they just got themselfs a big mouse. They all like playing in shopping bags and jumping on the one who is inside it. Then they desided they liked boxes and all 3 of them ripped one corner of the box so they could dive in from one end and out the other while tossing around a toy mouse. They all learned to come to a whistle for when its time to come in and they just love talking to you. Romulus will bless you when you sneeze by him, he does this funny meow kinda like a chatter he does that sometimes while he watches birds from the back of a chair in the livingroom. Romulus loves to ride around on your sholders and Remus is learning he likes it as well. After watching Marley teach himself how to open the screen door Remus and Romuls picked up on it and they all let themselfs in and out when they can.

[Krista]

I found my kitten Zack in a garbage dumpster, which must be where he gets his appetite. As soon as he was large enough to jump on to the kitchen counter, no food was ever safe again. Open the fridge or a cupboard, and Zack will be there in less than a heart beat. His ear is trained to the crackle of plastic and the folding of cardboard. Any food left unattended will be quicklysliced open with surgical precision.

When faced with Tupperware, he's trained the dog to open it for him. Often I'll catch him knocking a container off the counter to our waiting Lab. Once the dog breaks it open, Zack drives her off with a swipe of the claw and gorges himself. Clever boy!

[BarbaraG]

We have a 150 lb. Akbash dog (A turkish herding dog)that was very lonely without a herd so we got her a kitten. We named him Toulouse. Our dog carried him around for weeks. She slobberd all over him and rolled him in the dirt. Every evening, I would put him in the sink and let the water wash away the mud. He was very grateful but he loved his mama Layla. One day we looked outside and Toulouse was giving Layla a full body massage and Layla was totally zoned out with ecstasy. I got lovely photos of the event. wish I could share them!

[anne gracie]

When I was little, my brother used to go with the boys down the road and hunt rabbits with ferret. He sometimes used to bring me a baby rabbit for a pet, but one time he brought one so young it couldn't feed itself. Our cat was nursing kittens at the time and my mother put a smear of butter on the head of each kitten and the baby rabbit and slipped the rabbit among the kittens. While kittens and rabbit fed, the mother cat washed the butter off all of them and by the time that process was over the rabbit was an adoptive kitten. She raised it along with the kittens and they all played together.

[mlm]

One day during my last month of my pediatrics residency, I came home very tired after a long night shift in the emergency department. Attached to the apartment building mailbox was a notice: baby kitten found by the highway, we can't keep it, needs a good home. I was tired, emotional, and couldn't resist. I called the number right away and went over and met the kitten. He was tiny and just fit in the palm of my hand. He looked up at me and mewed softly - I was lost. I got the kitten formula, set up a warm bed, and was awoken in advance of a feeding that night by him scrambling up the comforter into my bed.

The next day, I had to sneak him into the department office as I had no time to get back home before his first vet appointment. The staff oohed and ahhed. My attempts at naming him were fairly lame, so the chief resident suggested that he should be named after another orphan. He formally became Oliver that afternoon.

My mother had lost her cat (age 18) a few years earlier, and she was ready for a new pet. Little did she know who she was getting.

Ollie grew into a true beau: blond, with a long fluffy tail that he swished around elegantly (he was obviously not a manx), a skilled sportscat and hunter, definitely willing to flirt with ladies at any opportunity, but with a true heart that made him a wonderful faithful companion and a defender of the household.

He died 2 years ago.

I had thought about writing about my cat Dibby, who died this year at age 16, but there was maidservant in a Jo Beverley novel named Dibby (don't remember which one), so obviously that wouldn't work!

[RevMelinda]

I don't have cats (family allergies) but my brother has four. One is a big red cat--actually the fattest cat I have ever seen.

Her name is Paintbrush, she looks like Jabba the Hut, and everyone calls her "Red Cat." When she lies down and her stomach pooches out to the side she makes a perfect circle with little feet sticking out.

When Red Cat was living at my parents' house (my brother was deployed to Djibouti), she spent most of the day inside Mom's bed--no, not sleeping in (on top of) it, but sleeping IN a little hole she had excavated for herself in the UNDERSIDE of the box spring--from which she hissed if disturbed.

Red Cat would also come downstairs to eat and to lie on a heating pad next to the china cabinet--from which she would hiss if you came too close. She wouldn't quit hissing and calm down until you opened and closed the china cabinet door--apparently this communicated to her that you were just getting dishes out to set the table and not intent on Foul Play Against Red Cats.

(Apparently Red Cat was once feral, which accounts for her food issues and her lack of domestic manners.)

[Becca]

Okay, Kitten stories. Well, there is my half-persian, Taffy, who we got at six weeks old because the breeder's Yorkie got in with the kittens and killed all but two (she thought they were rats). He was so tiny he could sit in my hand, so I was terrfied of rolling onto him when I was asleep - except he mewed and mewed and mewed. In the end he slept next to my pillow. And we spent the next week curled up together watching the Sydney Olympics because I was off school with 'flu. (He's now a huge silver-tabby tiger monster - but he loves a cuddle.)

Then there is Mahb (british shorthair cross) who is the most vocal creature ever. I am her slave. But when she was a year old she had a litter of five kittens - Art, Morgan, Fey, Gwen, and the only boy, Cali (short for Excalibre). Art(hur) was first born, and I thought she was male at first, hence the change of name.

I loved having kittens. I'd spend hours in the backroom with them. Trying to walk across the room with five kittens attached to my jeans was always an education. Or lying on the bed, reading, with kittens curled up in the small of my back, while they purred like tiny engines.

I also made sure that once a day, without fail, I picked up Mahb for a cuddle. It was no fun being a milkbar. Between that and her fetching me from cleaning my teeth because she was going into labour and needed help NOW! she became my cat rather than my mum's. And I've been ordered about ever since.

[Lynne-RC]

Since my marriage in 1990, my husband and I have had several cats. The stories below are from different cats.

In 1991, we adopted two kittens from a shelter. The little grey calico kitten was about 6 weeks old. As soon as you picked her up, she purred and purred. But when I held her close to me, she closed her eyes and began kneading the knitted scarf I was wearing and sucking on it. She stole my heart right then. But she was my husband's cat - she could sit upright in the palm of his hand, with her tail wrapped around her legs, and she fit beautifully. But full of mischief too - would chase a string or a ball around for hours. As a baby, she didn't seem quite sure how to clean herself. My adult cat and the kitten only two weeks older than her tackled her at the same time, and cleaned her until she was spotless. I'm convinced cats can talk to each other - she never needed to be forcibly groomed again. In 1994 my husband and I were in a car accident - he had multiple broken ribs and a broken collar bone. As an adult cat, this cat spent hours sleeping on my husband's chest, and he said she was better than a heating pad. Plus the soothing purrs.

Then there was the black and tan tabby - at roughly 8 weeks old, we knew he was going to be a big fellow - just from the size of his paws. He was full of energy and regularly teased the 8 year old matron cat of the household, as well as involving the calico kitten in his mischief. He regularly tried to climb the living room curtains - and frequently pulled them down. But then he would give you this look that proclaimed his innocence. Even as a kitten, he could not stand to be laughed at. It interfered with his dignity. As a 'teenage' cat he was constantly climbing into cars - would soak up the extra heat that they captured. Until the day I couldn't get him out and drove away with him in the car. I've never heard such ear splitting yowls in my life. Then there was the day he caught his first mouse. He brought it into the house (they have their own cat sized door), dropped it at my feet so I'd look at him. He then proceeded to bat it around, jumping on his hind legs and dancing around it. I'm quite sure in his mind he was demonstrating the kill so that I would congratulate him on his prowess. And feisty - from about 3 months old until he died, he would walk the perimeter of our property and meow at the top of his voice. Announcing it was his land, and daring all challengers to defy him. (I know you want younger cat stories - but this fellow was also extremely protective. In 1997/8, when he was 7 years old, he decided he was a lap cat and spent hours purring against my pregnant belly. When the baby was born, there was the cat beside the baby seat. In the early summer of 1998, I set up a blanket in the yard, and sat behind the baby, in one corner. I looked up, and the other 3 corners were occupied by the family cats, with this guy the closest.)

My husband brought home one kitten probably about 5 weeks old - really too young to be taken from Mom, but if he hadn't taken her then, we wouldn't have gotten her. I had sheepskin lined slippers, and have pictures of her curled into a small ball inside the slipper. My youngest son spent hours and hours getting to know her; she decided that a cotton blanket he had was hers. Even now, as an adult, she will be more likely to curl up with someone who has the blanket.

The most recent addition we brought home at about 8 or 10 weeks old. Her favorite trick is to come into bed with us, and rub her chin against ours. Which is fine, until she nips your nose or your chin. She's in and out of bed a couple of times through the night, but almost always at 5:15 - just before my husbands alarm clock goes off. No sleeping in with her around! But curiosity gets the cat - more than once, she's been locked into a garage (not always ours). You'd never know such a small bundle of fur could be so loud.

We had two litter mates we adopted at about 2-3 months of age. They were friendly with us, but never slept with us or spent a lot of time playing with me and my husband. But at 2 in the morning, the whole house was awake while they chased each other from one end of the apartment to the other. Unfortunately, we lived in the upstairs apartment of a 2 unit house. The people downstairs wanted to know if I had kittens or large dogs ! :-) And when they slept, you couldn't tell where one ended and the other started - it was just a big grey and white ball.

Hope some of these tails er - tales - help you a bit!

[Piper]

When I was young and single (oh so long ago) I yearned for a pet to keep me company. Pets were not really allowed in the apartment, but I decided to get one anyway. I went to the Humane Society and picked up an adorable kitten and named her Annis. That would be Annis after Black Annis, the one eyed hag of Scotland. I don't know anything about Black Annis, but I will tell you that my Annis was a true hag.

Initially she started off cute and sweet. Curling up on the back of my neck and sucking on my hair, but she developed a nasty streak in a hurry. When I had company, she would go around the apartment and mark (that would be urinate) on the walls. No wonder there was a no pet policy.

Eventually I moved cities, and into a small house. Annis had grown up in a lot of respects, she liked to play fetch with little foam balls, but if I went to bed and she hadn't I could not get out of bed again for fear that she would hunt me and attack me on my way to the bathroom. I had to make sure that cupboard doors were fully latched or she would open them and consume food. If she got angry (I swear it was spite) she would urinate on my belongings. I had her checked many times by vets, and it certainly wasn't a physical ailment that caused her to urinate in inappropriate places.

Sadly, I really didn't want a psycho cat, and I didn't think anyone else would either, so I had her put to sleep.

So not exactly a heart warming story, but there you have it.

[Barb Dyson]

Yesterday, my 15 yr old daughter was sleeping on the couch and kept hearing a thud noise on the window. She finally got up to look and my son's 5 month old kitten was throwing herself up against the window on the screen porch until she finally got someone's attention to let her back in!

[theo]

Another side note (but not another bun note ;) ) I think this post might have the most response of any I've seen here! You opened a Pandora's box with this one, Jo.

And I'm loving every one of them, but Anne, the butter? What a great idea.

[Linda Banche]

I remember "A Christmas Cat". Your story was the one where the hero and heroine live next door to each other. She goes next door to complain about his cat howling. He's in the kitchen and she thinks he's a servant.

I love the cover for "The Stanforth Secrets".

[NinaP]

Oh Piper... Don't feel bad. I had to do the same thing for the same reason. Mine was a huge purebred blue-tipped Persian named Mop.

Nina, feeling better for having finally come out of the closet.

[Joan M Wilson]

We had two cats One was Cyril. He thought himself a person. He looked like a Butler in his black and white suit.... He loved to go for walks, eat mexican food sleep on my back and came when I whistled for him. I miss him so much We had him put to sleep in February.he was 15. The other cat we have is named Schprocket (SNL) He thinks he is a King My daughters cat grooms him, My Husband brushes him,He sleeps by my side in bed. He is a lovely long haired grey but he is getting old too. he is nearly 16

[Gina]

I've had a few cats in my life, one named Shush. I put this itty-bitty kitten on my shoulder for most of the day while I stood there folding throw-away newspapers. The kitten would meow and I would say Shush. At the end of the day, I called shush, very loudly out the back door and she came running. I had her for over 15 years before an accident with the termite guys took her away for us. My mom left food out for her for a week before excepting that she was gone.

We had a cat named Hook (don't know why) that was a very good hunter. Also ate most of what she caught - the rest was left at the front door for us.

We currently have two cats in our household. We named one Sneakers because he liked to sleep with his face buried in my son's sneakers. They've both grown up and everyone once in a while you'll find the cat asleep with shoe. His name may be Sneakers and we do use it all the time but every once in a while, I call him Your Majesty because he's trained me so well...

Our other current cat is Frisky, because she was a spaz and still can be.

[Suzy Stutz]

I have two kittens, a lynx point siamese named Simon and a tortoise shell named Linus. I swore that I would never get a male cat, but after my dear little Wallis was found dead of unknown causes in the front yard, I decided to get a kitten from the humane society. Simon at 5 weeks immediately got my attention, but he was MALE. Male as in spraying and licking unmentionable places in public settings. I took a chance based on the recommendation of the vet at the humane society that being neutered at 5 weeks, he would not start such nasty tendencies. He acts much like a little dog and was the star of kitten socialization classes by coming when I called his name.
Simon was such a loving companion that I was excited to get him a friend. At the same kitten class, I found out that there was a male kitten for adoption and I was excited to get a play pal for Simon. They have a grand time together, but I have had to learn the hard way to shut him out of my room at night unless I want to be the center ring of a wrestling match at 3 am.

[Esperanza Holford]

Twenty years ago, my husband and I bought a ranch in the Hill Country of Texas. One day, we opened the doors of one of our storage sheds after hearing a plaintive cry from within. Out jumped a young gray cat from a species known as "American shorthair--breed unknown." She was not feral because she immediately started purring loudly and rubbing herself around our legs and feet. My husband exclaimed, "I'll bet she's from a litter somewhere in the area." And later we discoveredd it was so. We thought her just a kitten, but she surprised us by giving birth shortly after arriving to three little kittens--two males, gray just like their mama, and one little orange and black calico (female). My husband said, "Well, surprise, surprise. Four for the price of one. And what shall we name them?" Why, Winken, Blinken, and Nod," said I, "and Mama Cat beside." Winken disappeared first and Blinken soon followed (perhaps they went *a'fishing for the herring fish; but little Nod (who became our "Noddy") stayed with us until the day she died of natural causes at 14 years of age. Mama Cat survived her daughter by several years. Noddy never ventured very far from our home. And, she was smart enough not to become an accommodating meal for the foxes, coyotes, bobcats and other such critters who reside in neighborhood. When we first took the kittens to the Vet to get their shots, the staff was so amused when I gave their names as "Winken, Blinken, and Nod."

*"Winken, Blinken and Nod" by Eugene Field (1850-1895) found in the Oxxford Book of Children's Verse

Winken, Blinken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe--
Sailed off on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three:
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in the beautiful sea;
Net of silver and gold have we!"
Said Winken,
Blinken,
And Nod.

[Jane Irish Nelson]

My last cat was named Binky, but we sometimes called him "Binky Bunny Cat", partly because his fur felt as soft as our bunny's, and partly because he and the bunny were the very bestest of friends. And both of them had the same coloring, black and white.

My other suggestion is to name one Edith, in honor of the late, great Edith Felber who will be so much missed.

Jane

[Kimberly]

I have had so many kittens and cats that I have too many stories to tell. Some of the cats who have stolen my heart are Oswald or Ozzie - our Casanova - he was such a lover, we lost him to kidney failure. Mikey - because he ate anything - yogurt, tomato juice, pintos, buttered bread, you name it, he ate it. I lost him to a little known disease called FIP. I lost 2 kittens to the same disease, brothers (Brody and Garren) they were just 10 weeks old.
Now I have 3 rescue cats - Taz a round ball of ‘thinks he is a mean cat’. Smokey - got his name for 2 reason he is black with hints of brown and red (looks Smokey) and his meow as a baby - just 9 weeks old and sounded like he had smoked for 30 yrs.
And finally - the baby of the family – Chancey or Chance.
I was on my way to work one morning and found him curled in a tiny ball in the middle of the road. His name came from the fact that it was just ‘chance’ that I was early that morning and stopped to get him. As soon as I got back to my car with him the local transit bus came down the road. He was a lucky little fellow. I took him to the vet, found out he was 3 weeks old. I nursed him with a kitten bottle for almost 4 weeks until he got his front teeth and bit the nipple right in two. He got weaned that very moment, kitten bottles are not cheap! I think due to the fact that he never got to wean slowly off the bottle he kept that need to suckle. He solved his suckling need by curling into a tiny ball, grabbing his tail between his 2 front paws and sucking right on the tip of that tail. The vet said he would outgrow it, it's been 2 years and he does not even show any sign of slowing down. I wake every morning to a warm little bundle of fur under the covers with me (his favorite place to sleep) and the sweet sound of suckling - LOUDLY! I had never planned to keep Chance, I was going to nurse him, wean him and give him away. I just did not need another cat. But there is something about bottle feeding a little animal that truly bonds you to them. I fell head over hills in love with him the moment he latched onto that first bottle and then latched those tiny sharp little claws into my hands and started trying to pull me closer and growling in the mean tiny voice and kicking those little back feet as if he had to still fight for his turn at feeding. And he still lives up to his name!
Most people do not believe me about his tail sucking until they see it and the reactions on their faces are usually priceless. That is my fave kitty story to tell.
I have pics of him sucking his tail along with some of my other cats here....
http://s194.photobucket.com/albums/z290/Comradai/?albumview=grid

[Sue]

Well I hate cats! They are always in our garden eating the chipmunks and birds. My husband tries to hit them with his sling shot but they are in no danger! I think the world is full of cat haters it's just that we keep it to ourselves. If only cats would stay inside or their owners build a good fence to keep them on their own property I wouldn't hate them so much.
Cats and country music, you either loven em or hate em.
However as a name suggestion what about Layton, in honour of Edith and Lapchat (Rabbit, cat in French).

[Ariane Little]

I have had so many cats over the years...too many to mention them all. My kitty, Lacquerlass, passed away two weeks ago, so I will write about her. She was born at the Point Fermin Lighthouse, in San Pedro, CA. People around the area will tell you she was one many black cats descended from those kept by Portuguese fisherman on their boats. To them, a black cat was good luck, sure to help bring them a good catch.
We knew the couple living at the lighthouse, and first saw this friendly, rambunctious kitten at a wedding held there.
It was love at first sight. We brought her home the next day, and named her Lacquerlass...a silly name for a silly cat (and Laq for short). Lacquer came from her shiny black coat, and lass...well, she was one.
She was sweet, affectionate, contrary, and often had more courage than sense. She would chase a dog away, and always, always do exactly what what she pleased.
When she passed away it was sudden, at home, and like everything she did, on her terms. She did it HER way, quietly and peacefully (no vets for her!). I miss her very much and will always cherish the time I had with her.
My other cats are Taffeta (a tortie who has taffetta-esque markings) and Duncan, and orange tabby who I wanted to name Plantangenet. I love the freedom of choosing pet names- they can have meaning, be silly, be long...and most of all, creative!

[Kathy]

When I was dating my husband his mother had a cat named Gosimer, (who has passed now) she claimed my husband at the time I couldn't sit by him. She would sit right in between us. She gave me a little nip in the cheek, it didn't hurt. I started petting her and she was at my side every time we were there wanting my attention. She sort of adopted me. Because at the time she was very protective of my future husband.

[Nicole Mc]

My father died in June of 89. That 4th of July we went (trying to be normal) to a Holiday fair. A animal shelter was giving away lots of little kittens at a booth. I remember spending an hour sitting inside the little gated booth petting one precious little cat...a mix of black/grey on top and white belly and legs. The booth was getting ready to close, and i knew my mother didn't know where I had run off too. I asked the man how much the kittens were, planning to go and quickly beg my mother. He told me they were Free! I couldn't believe the luck. I set off in a panic to find my mother and beg her for my new pet before the booth packed up for the day. I found her and reluctantly dragged her to the spot. They were waiting. I ended up convincing my mother of how we "needed" that baby kitten. That sweet cat was very faithful to us, even though it suffered some abuse at the hand of my 3 year old sister (being dropped down the stairs!!!!). it gave me someone to love in a very sad time in my life. It lived a very long life....it's name was Precious.

[LuAnn Morgan]

Edith will be greatly missed. A lovely lady and a wonderful writer.

[Lynne Connolly]

Just one tiny correction - you don't own cats, they own you. "Dogs have owners, cats have staff."
My cat is called Jack and he's my mews.

[Jo Beverley]

Thanks for all the wonderful posts! It's going to take a while to sort through them all, so be patient.

Much interesting stuff, and some poignant stories as well.

Jo :)

[Nancy]

Kittens! Thinking of them makes me smile. Their tails point straight up. They scamper & leap & bat. Their soft claws don't hurt when they climb your legs -- while they're small!

The world is a game to kittens. They run and pounce and, yes, leap straight up in the air. Or they stop, eyes on a target, hunch down, rump raised and wiggling, then POUNCE. Everything happens quickly: Change directions. Stop & groom (submissive behavior). Knead & purr.

Picture the scene at the end of The Grand Sophy, when Charles lifts the muff off the box and the chicks hop out. If it'd been kittens in the box, at least one would have pushed his/her head up under the muff and escaped w/o assistance.

Cats bring stunned prey to kittens (or their shocked owners). Sharing? -- My Rumpleteaser thought it was great fun to bring a mouse up on the bed to chase it around while I was trying to sleep. Awk! Teaching? -- In the 1960s, my mother was convinced our Puff was teaching her kittens to hunt. She’d brought a mouse to the basement, grumbled in Cattese, then let the mouse go and caught it again. Mrowty mrouw mrrt -- release, catch -- again and again.

Kittens mew and yow and mrrrt and miao when they're little. Some stay vocal when they're older. Rumpleteaser was a talkative tortoiseshell with Siamese-style black ears & paws. She would miew ("busted!") when I caught her misbehaving.

A sure lure for a kitten or cat is rustling he cannot see -- I scratch my fingernails under a lap rug or just on the sofa out of sight. They listen, on alert, then jump up to seek the prey. I picture ancient Egyptian cats hunting vermin in the granaries. Rumpleteaser opened doors to check inside cabinets. She figured out how to push up the brass latch on my oak icechest table.

A foot dangling off the side of the bed makes good prey. My Catbert attacked my foot so often it broke me of the dangling habit.

It's kitten season at the shelters. The good ones have things set up for group play; a good chance to observe ... and try to resist kittens' appeal.

[Anne]

Jo, I stayed up until 3:30 this morning finishing "The Secret Wedding" because I just couldn't put it down! Thank you for a delightful read. I thought it was even better than Robin's story and that was pretty good. :) I love the humorous interplay between characters - it makes them so human. Another "Well done!" for you, Miss Jo!

[Antique cabinet]

I don't agree with the tiny detail, i own cats just like i own dogs, they can never own, i love them but it's still a cat.