Pets
Cats
The majority of the pets I've had have been cats. I love cats. Cats are awesome - they're smart, cute, independant, loving
pets. A house never feels empty when you have pet cats. They're great company, they're not too much hassle. I love 'em.
pets. A house never feels empty when you have pet cats. They're great company, they're not too much hassle. I love 'em.
Dinah was my mother's first cat. When I was born Dinah was already an adult, and a central member of the family. Mum
always says she regrets not having bought Dinah's sister at the same time, as it was unfair to have split them up so young.
Because I was still young when Dinah died, and it was now so long ago, I find it hard to remember specific details of the
time we shared. One thing I do remember quite clearly, is that even though she was old, she still ran about like a kitten,
chasing balls of paper and bits of string or shoelace.
For Dinah, it was her kidneys which failed, and we eventually had her put to sleep. Dinah was the first real death I ever had
to cope with as a child, as I was too young to remember my grandfather dying. I remember sitting in the living room on the
floor with a box of tissues - my mum and brother both sitting on the sofa, all three of us crying our eyes out. In fact,
thinking about that now as I type this up is making tears well up in my eyes.
always says she regrets not having bought Dinah's sister at the same time, as it was unfair to have split them up so young.
Because I was still young when Dinah died, and it was now so long ago, I find it hard to remember specific details of the
time we shared. One thing I do remember quite clearly, is that even though she was old, she still ran about like a kitten,
chasing balls of paper and bits of string or shoelace.
For Dinah, it was her kidneys which failed, and we eventually had her put to sleep. Dinah was the first real death I ever had
to cope with as a child, as I was too young to remember my grandfather dying. I remember sitting in the living room on the
floor with a box of tissues - my mum and brother both sitting on the sofa, all three of us crying our eyes out. In fact,
thinking about that now as I type this up is making tears well up in my eyes.
Dinah (unknown - January 1991)
Lizzie was the second cat my mother bought, as a companion to Dinah. As with Dinah, I never knew Lizzie as a kitten, she
was already a young cat by the time I knew her.
While Dinah was the mad crazy energetic one, Lizzie seemed to prefer the stereotypical "fat lazy cat" lifestyle. She was
never as big as Mitzi eventually got, but she was a lot bigger than Dinah. Abiding images of Lizzie for me are of her curled
up fast asleep at the foot of my parents bed, or lazing about in the sun in the garden.
You could tell that Lizzie missed Dinah, after she died, but she seemed to get on extremely well with Mitzi, despite the
age gap. Personally, I think Mitzi learned the art of the "fat lazy cat" from Lizzie - I have a lovely photo of the two of
them curled round each other asleep on my parent's bed.
We lost Lizzie to the same illness as Dinah - kidney failure. Again, we had her put to sleep to save her suffering too much.
was already a young cat by the time I knew her.
While Dinah was the mad crazy energetic one, Lizzie seemed to prefer the stereotypical "fat lazy cat" lifestyle. She was
never as big as Mitzi eventually got, but she was a lot bigger than Dinah. Abiding images of Lizzie for me are of her curled
up fast asleep at the foot of my parents bed, or lazing about in the sun in the garden.
You could tell that Lizzie missed Dinah, after she died, but she seemed to get on extremely well with Mitzi, despite the
age gap. Personally, I think Mitzi learned the art of the "fat lazy cat" from Lizzie - I have a lovely photo of the two of
them curled round each other asleep on my parent's bed.
We lost Lizzie to the same illness as Dinah - kidney failure. Again, we had her put to sleep to save her suffering too much.
Lizzie (unknown - 1994)
Mitzi was an absolute star. We got her after Dinah died - our neighbour's cat, Tabby, was pregnant, so Shirley promised
us one of the kittens. I can still remember the day she was born - I was walking home from school with Claire and her
mum (Shirley) came running out to meet us outside my house to tell us Tabby had given birth. There were five kittens in
the litter, two girls and three boys. Two of the boys were smoky grey (Smokey and Chunks), one was tabby-and-white
(Rupert). Mitzi's sister was a lovely dark tortie (Allsorts), similar in colouring to my Katie. Mitzi was the only ginger one.
I chose Mitzi almost straight away, and we played with the kittens all the time. They were all given away apart from
Smokey, but he ran away a few years later. Most of the kittens died fairly young - Allsorts was run over, as was Rupert.
Mitzi was an adorable kitten - she used to perch on the rim of the kitchen sink to drink water from the tap!
She was always fat, but as she got older she became rather overweight. The trouble is, its very difficult to control the
eating habits of your cat, especially when you have two/three others in the household. Mitz didn't always get on well with
the other cats, they would frequently spit and hiss at each other. Mitzi was also very fond of biting and clawing - her
favourite tricks were lying on her back and looking too cute, so you'd be lured in and she'd have free access to your arm
for all her biting needs, or rubbing up to your ankles, which would subtly become hacking at your ankles with all four legs
and her teeth. She never used to bite my Dad though.
She spent a lot of time in my bedroom, but mostly only if I wasn't in it! She slept on my bed and my windowsill, and was
obsessed with my wardrobe - always trying to get inside. I never understood why, as all she did when she got there was
sit looking out as if she was stuck and wanted to get down again.
With Mitzi, it was her liver that took her away from us. She got very sick and lost an awful lot of weight, although she
was retaining a lot of fluid so her stomach was still huge. She stopped going outside, and became very lethargic. We had
her put to sleep, because there was nothing else we could do, and it was clear it was in her best interests. I absolutely
adored her, and I miss her like crazy.
us one of the kittens. I can still remember the day she was born - I was walking home from school with Claire and her
mum (Shirley) came running out to meet us outside my house to tell us Tabby had given birth. There were five kittens in
the litter, two girls and three boys. Two of the boys were smoky grey (Smokey and Chunks), one was tabby-and-white
(Rupert). Mitzi's sister was a lovely dark tortie (Allsorts), similar in colouring to my Katie. Mitzi was the only ginger one.
I chose Mitzi almost straight away, and we played with the kittens all the time. They were all given away apart from
Smokey, but he ran away a few years later. Most of the kittens died fairly young - Allsorts was run over, as was Rupert.
Mitzi was an adorable kitten - she used to perch on the rim of the kitchen sink to drink water from the tap!
She was always fat, but as she got older she became rather overweight. The trouble is, its very difficult to control the
eating habits of your cat, especially when you have two/three others in the household. Mitz didn't always get on well with
the other cats, they would frequently spit and hiss at each other. Mitzi was also very fond of biting and clawing - her
favourite tricks were lying on her back and looking too cute, so you'd be lured in and she'd have free access to your arm
for all her biting needs, or rubbing up to your ankles, which would subtly become hacking at your ankles with all four legs
and her teeth. She never used to bite my Dad though.
She spent a lot of time in my bedroom, but mostly only if I wasn't in it! She slept on my bed and my windowsill, and was
obsessed with my wardrobe - always trying to get inside. I never understood why, as all she did when she got there was
sit looking out as if she was stuck and wanted to get down again.
With Mitzi, it was her liver that took her away from us. She got very sick and lost an awful lot of weight, although she
was retaining a lot of fluid so her stomach was still huge. She stopped going outside, and became very lethargic. We had
her put to sleep, because there was nothing else we could do, and it was clear it was in her best interests. I absolutely
adored her, and I miss her like crazy.
Mitzi (15/04/91 - 27/12/05)
Daisy was absolutely beautiful. Siamese/Burmese cross, her mother was black-and-white. She was the only girl in the
litter of four - one of her brothers resembled her but the other two were coloured like their mother. She was a stray
who had been taken in by the Cats Protection League (as it was then). Daisy didn't cost us anything, but we did make a
donation to CPL when we picked her up.
Daisy had the most beautiful voice - a proper Siamese yowl. She would sleep in my bed; she had a fantastic habit of
falling asleep on the back of the sofa/armchair and then slowly slipping down onto your shoulder, so you couldn't move
away. She was bright and inquisitive and very active. We all adored her.
It broke my heart to lose her. She was run over outside our house early one morning. My dad found her when he left to
walk to work. She was collapsed on the pavement a few yards from the back gate. She had been hit further down the
road, it seems - she looked as if she had struggled down the pavement back to the house before finally dying (so my
parents told me - I didn't see her on the street). Both my parents and my brother knew about it that morning, but they
decided not to tell me until after school. Oddly enough, I was in a really really good mood after school that day (I was
11), but as soon as I walked in the house, I knew something was wrong. The house didn't feel right - almost empty, which
was silly considering my entire family (including Mitzi) were in the front room. They all stood up as I walked in, and Mum
said the words I was dreading.. "There's been an accident..". I burst into tears immediately. She was still with us at this
point, as my parents hadn't taken her to the vets yet, so I was able to see her for the last time. She was all curled up in
a box, she looked like she was sleeping, except when I stroked her fur it was cold.
It goes to show how much I still miss her, that after 11 years I still can't recall that day without bursting into floods of
tears. A few years after she died, I tried to focus my feelings of loss by writing a poem about her. Read it here.
litter of four - one of her brothers resembled her but the other two were coloured like their mother. She was a stray
who had been taken in by the Cats Protection League (as it was then). Daisy didn't cost us anything, but we did make a
donation to CPL when we picked her up.
Daisy had the most beautiful voice - a proper Siamese yowl. She would sleep in my bed; she had a fantastic habit of
falling asleep on the back of the sofa/armchair and then slowly slipping down onto your shoulder, so you couldn't move
away. She was bright and inquisitive and very active. We all adored her.
It broke my heart to lose her. She was run over outside our house early one morning. My dad found her when he left to
walk to work. She was collapsed on the pavement a few yards from the back gate. She had been hit further down the
road, it seems - she looked as if she had struggled down the pavement back to the house before finally dying (so my
parents told me - I didn't see her on the street). Both my parents and my brother knew about it that morning, but they
decided not to tell me until after school. Oddly enough, I was in a really really good mood after school that day (I was
11), but as soon as I walked in the house, I knew something was wrong. The house didn't feel right - almost empty, which
was silly considering my entire family (including Mitzi) were in the front room. They all stood up as I walked in, and Mum
said the words I was dreading.. "There's been an accident..". I burst into tears immediately. She was still with us at this
point, as my parents hadn't taken her to the vets yet, so I was able to see her for the last time. She was all curled up in
a box, she looked like she was sleeping, except when I stroked her fur it was cold.
It goes to show how much I still miss her, that after 11 years I still can't recall that day without bursting into floods of
tears. A few years after she died, I tried to focus my feelings of loss by writing a poem about her. Read it here.
Daisy (March 1994 - 16/03/1995)
Katie we got from Cats Protection as well. She's adorable, although she was very shy when we first took her home. She
was abandoned as a young kitten by her mother, and was adopted by an elderly lady who called her "Wiggy". However,
when the lady had to go into sheltered accommodation, she wasn't allowed to take the cat with her. The CPL woman, Mrs
Tee, thought Wiggy was a stupid name, so they renamed her "Bramble" as it was allegedly underneath a bramble bush
that she was originally found. We decided Bramble was a daft name for a cat, so chose Katie instead.
Katie has always been closest to my Mum. It's always Mum she sits on in the living room (well, Mum's chair definately, as
she'll sit on me if I'm in it and Mum's not around). It's Mum she sleeps on at night - only once have I experienced Katie's
getting-you-up-in-the-morning tactics, when I was catsitting for my parents a few years ago. She comes in and sits on
your chest as you sleep, until her sheer weight wakes you up. If that fails, she'll start kneading at your chest with her
paws (and her ridiculously sharp claws), crying out in her Siamese-like voice until you pay her attention.
She has a great voice, and loves to talk. Whenever my Mum and I talk on the phone, Katie always joins in!
was abandoned as a young kitten by her mother, and was adopted by an elderly lady who called her "Wiggy". However,
when the lady had to go into sheltered accommodation, she wasn't allowed to take the cat with her. The CPL woman, Mrs
Tee, thought Wiggy was a stupid name, so they renamed her "Bramble" as it was allegedly underneath a bramble bush
that she was originally found. We decided Bramble was a daft name for a cat, so chose Katie instead.
Katie has always been closest to my Mum. It's always Mum she sits on in the living room (well, Mum's chair definately, as
she'll sit on me if I'm in it and Mum's not around). It's Mum she sleeps on at night - only once have I experienced Katie's
getting-you-up-in-the-morning tactics, when I was catsitting for my parents a few years ago. She comes in and sits on
your chest as you sleep, until her sheer weight wakes you up. If that fails, she'll start kneading at your chest with her
paws (and her ridiculously sharp claws), crying out in her Siamese-like voice until you pay her attention.
She has a great voice, and loves to talk. Whenever my Mum and I talk on the phone, Katie always joins in!
Katie (1994? - present)
One of a litter of four, Rosie was born just down the road from my house. Her three siblings were all males, two were
black-and-white and one was a tabby-and-white, like Rosie. The two black and white were given away to a neighbour, and
Rosie and her brother Jim were kept by the family. Rosie and Jim used to come around to our house and play in our
garden, we always got on well with them. They were not treated particularly well at home, and ran away frequently.
During the cold winters, Rosie would come and sleep in our house, despite my mother's efforts to keep her outside.
They both suffered from various road accidents, and eventually (so we thought) ran away for good. I recall at the time
Jim had just had a pin removed from his leg. We never saw Jim again, and had almost given up hope of seeing Rosie, too.
Then one day while my mother was at home she heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen. She went to have a look,
and discovered Rosie wolfing down all the cat food that was out for Mitzi and Katie. She was painfully thin, nothing
more than a bag of bones, but other than that she seemed to be in good health. We took her up to the vets to make
sure, where we were pleasantly surprised to find that they had her medical history, as her previous owners had used
the same vets as us.
We attempted to reunite Rosie with her original family, but they were not very enthusiastic about encouraging her
home. My mother refused to shut her out of the house, in spite of her determination to only ever have 2 cats at one
time, and shortly afterwards Rosie became a permanent feature in our home.
At first she was very shy of adults, preferring the company of myself and my brother (him particularly). She had a
number of car accidents, the most recent and serious of which has left her with only 3 working legs. This doesnt appear
to bother her in the slightest (you can see in the picture that her front left paw is curled up and useless), and since she
still uses what part of her leg remains, the vets decided not to amputate. She is still lively, and able to climb trees and
fences, but as she has got older she has taken to staying indoors more often, especially in winter, as the cold weather
appears to accentuate her injuries and make her uncomfortable. She is now perfectly at ease on anyone's lap, and it is
almost guaranteed that the first thing that will happen when you take a seat in my front room is that Rosie will jump up
on your knee.
black-and-white and one was a tabby-and-white, like Rosie. The two black and white were given away to a neighbour, and
Rosie and her brother Jim were kept by the family. Rosie and Jim used to come around to our house and play in our
garden, we always got on well with them. They were not treated particularly well at home, and ran away frequently.
During the cold winters, Rosie would come and sleep in our house, despite my mother's efforts to keep her outside.
They both suffered from various road accidents, and eventually (so we thought) ran away for good. I recall at the time
Jim had just had a pin removed from his leg. We never saw Jim again, and had almost given up hope of seeing Rosie, too.
Then one day while my mother was at home she heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen. She went to have a look,
and discovered Rosie wolfing down all the cat food that was out for Mitzi and Katie. She was painfully thin, nothing
more than a bag of bones, but other than that she seemed to be in good health. We took her up to the vets to make
sure, where we were pleasantly surprised to find that they had her medical history, as her previous owners had used
the same vets as us.
We attempted to reunite Rosie with her original family, but they were not very enthusiastic about encouraging her
home. My mother refused to shut her out of the house, in spite of her determination to only ever have 2 cats at one
time, and shortly afterwards Rosie became a permanent feature in our home.
At first she was very shy of adults, preferring the company of myself and my brother (him particularly). She had a
number of car accidents, the most recent and serious of which has left her with only 3 working legs. This doesnt appear
to bother her in the slightest (you can see in the picture that her front left paw is curled up and useless), and since she
still uses what part of her leg remains, the vets decided not to amputate. She is still lively, and able to climb trees and
fences, but as she has got older she has taken to staying indoors more often, especially in winter, as the cold weather
appears to accentuate her injuries and make her uncomfortable. She is now perfectly at ease on anyone's lap, and it is
almost guaranteed that the first thing that will happen when you take a seat in my front room is that Rosie will jump up
on your knee.
Rosie (29/04/94 - present)
Floyd was an absolute angel of a cat! He first came into our lives as a stray, seeking shelter in our garden shed over
the winter. We used to leave him food in their, just in case he was starving and had nowhere else to go, but my
mother was fairly resolute about only having three cats (having already bent a little to allow us to keep Rosie, to be
fair to my mother she did try fairly hard to resist getting another). He was very shy of us, wouldn't let us go near
him, hid in the shed and ran away all the time. He was very dirty, his white fur was stained yellow, and he looked a bit
thin and ill.
It was February I think, when he first consented to come near us. I was outside with my mother, and he was in the
garden at the front of our house. We spoke gently, and made soothing noises, and he crept closer and closer until he
was stood at my feet, allowing me to stroke him. He instantly displayed his friendly personality, smiling and rubbing
up against my hand. But he wouldn't follow us into the house. The next day, however, saw him in our kitchen eating
food and being very scared. We asked around the neighbourhood, and it appeared that he had belonged to a family
down the road who had moved away. Of course, we had to keep him after that. He remained in our kitchen, always
running for the cat-flap when people startled him, until we'd gained enough of his trust to really become a part of
our family. He had these strange lumps in his stomach and we were all worried that it would turn out to be cancer,
but the vet said it was just an infection so put him on antibiotics. My father chose the name Floyd for him. Poor
Floyd, was taking antibiotics for most of the rest of his life. My mother and the vets tried several times to wean
him off them, with little success, until right near the end. He was absolutely beautiful, would sit on anyone's knee
and loved a cuddle. He would curl up under my quilt with me in bed when I slept, and was always around in the house
or garden. He never strayed far from the house. We knew he was old, of course, the vets estimated he may have
been around 9 or 10 when we found him, so we knew he wasn't going to live much longer. It is a credit to the quality
of veterinary care we get from our vets that Floyd outlasted the original predictions for his life expectancy, and we
were able to make his last few years very very happy. It was still very sad when he finally left us, especially since
I'd been at university for a little while then, so hadn't seen him for months. He'll never be forgotten though.
the winter. We used to leave him food in their, just in case he was starving and had nowhere else to go, but my
mother was fairly resolute about only having three cats (having already bent a little to allow us to keep Rosie, to be
fair to my mother she did try fairly hard to resist getting another). He was very shy of us, wouldn't let us go near
him, hid in the shed and ran away all the time. He was very dirty, his white fur was stained yellow, and he looked a bit
thin and ill.
It was February I think, when he first consented to come near us. I was outside with my mother, and he was in the
garden at the front of our house. We spoke gently, and made soothing noises, and he crept closer and closer until he
was stood at my feet, allowing me to stroke him. He instantly displayed his friendly personality, smiling and rubbing
up against my hand. But he wouldn't follow us into the house. The next day, however, saw him in our kitchen eating
food and being very scared. We asked around the neighbourhood, and it appeared that he had belonged to a family
down the road who had moved away. Of course, we had to keep him after that. He remained in our kitchen, always
running for the cat-flap when people startled him, until we'd gained enough of his trust to really become a part of
our family. He had these strange lumps in his stomach and we were all worried that it would turn out to be cancer,
but the vet said it was just an infection so put him on antibiotics. My father chose the name Floyd for him. Poor
Floyd, was taking antibiotics for most of the rest of his life. My mother and the vets tried several times to wean
him off them, with little success, until right near the end. He was absolutely beautiful, would sit on anyone's knee
and loved a cuddle. He would curl up under my quilt with me in bed when I slept, and was always around in the house
or garden. He never strayed far from the house. We knew he was old, of course, the vets estimated he may have
been around 9 or 10 when we found him, so we knew he wasn't going to live much longer. It is a credit to the quality
of veterinary care we get from our vets that Floyd outlasted the original predictions for his life expectancy, and we
were able to make his last few years very very happy. It was still very sad when he finally left us, especially since
I'd been at university for a little while then, so hadn't seen him for months. He'll never be forgotten though.
Floyd (unknown - April 2002)
The following cats are/were not mine, but have, nonetheless, been a part of my life, however briefly, and so deserve mention.
Mitzi's mother, Tabby was the cat-next-door throughout my childhood. Fat and lazy, just like her daughter
(although never as fat as Mitz got), Tabby was only about 6 months old when she had her litter. She's
absolutely adorable, loves having a fuss made of her. Like our old girls, she doesn't go very far from the house,
but she's a big fan of rubbing up against you if you sit on their garden wall.
Tabby no longer lives opposite my parents now - they've moved to the other side of town.
(although never as fat as Mitz got), Tabby was only about 6 months old when she had her litter. She's
absolutely adorable, loves having a fuss made of her. Like our old girls, she doesn't go very far from the house,
but she's a big fan of rubbing up against you if you sit on their garden wall.
Tabby no longer lives opposite my parents now - they've moved to the other side of town.
Tabby
Crotchspider is the name given to this beautiful blue boy who lives somewhere around on our estate here in
Reading. He is ever so friendly, and very bold. He spent a lot of time in our house over the summer of 2005,
however when a flea infestation took over the entire ground floor, he was banished.
Of course, now we have Mr Fidget, so he's not even very welcome in the garden these days, thanks to our
super-territorial cat. Crotchy is the one cat Fidget won't actually fight most of the time - they just sit and
stare at each other and howl and moan and neither will back down. We have since discovered that he is very
old, 17 at least. He used to belong to an old lady who lived around here, but when she died he went to live
with her daughter, who lives the other side of the estate. He spends a lot of time away from their house
though, patrolling his old territory. He's still very cheeky, and will steal food where he can. He's got our
neighbours on both sides feeding him, and many other houses I am sure!
Reading. He is ever so friendly, and very bold. He spent a lot of time in our house over the summer of 2005,
however when a flea infestation took over the entire ground floor, he was banished.
Of course, now we have Mr Fidget, so he's not even very welcome in the garden these days, thanks to our
super-territorial cat. Crotchy is the one cat Fidget won't actually fight most of the time - they just sit and
stare at each other and howl and moan and neither will back down. We have since discovered that he is very
old, 17 at least. He used to belong to an old lady who lived around here, but when she died he went to live
with her daughter, who lives the other side of the estate. He spends a lot of time away from their house
though, patrolling his old territory. He's still very cheeky, and will steal food where he can. He's got our
neighbours on both sides feeding him, and many other houses I am sure!
Crotchspider
I love animals. I've always had pets, I intend to always have pets. Of course, living in rented accommodation means owning
pets is difficult, however we have chosen to ignore the rules and make an exception for Mr Fidget. This page is dedicated to
all the animals I've known and loved, particularly those who lived with me and my family.
pets is difficult, however we have chosen to ignore the rules and make an exception for Mr Fidget. This page is dedicated to
all the animals I've known and loved, particularly those who lived with me and my family.
Picture to
be uploaded
soon!
be uploaded
soon!
Picture to
be uploaded
soon!
be uploaded
soon!
Fidget (unknown - present)
Fidget, or Mister Fidget the Crack Whore, to give him his full title, is a beautiful semi-long haired black boy that
we took in around the beginning of July 2006. He kept turning up at our house, desperate for food, skinny as you
like. He would sleep in our garden all the time, but would run away from us if we tried to approach him.
Remembering how we got Floyd to trust us, I employed the same tactics on Fidget, and he instantly warmed to the
attention. He started coming inside, but would never sit still, always on the move. This led to me wanting to call him
Fidget, but Andy and Jamie said that while he was not our cat, we had to give him a silly name (see Crotchspider,
below), so he was named Crack Whore, as he looked like a junkie out to get his next fix.
Eventually, we realised just how thin/hungry he was and took him to the vet to get him checked out. They said he
was fine, just needed some feeding and some love, but since we'd said he was a stray, they checked him for a
microchip. Sure enough, he was chipped, and after much arseing about, realised that the chip wasnt actually
registered to anyone! So I registered the chip with my details, bought him a collar and we settled on Fidget as a
name, as I refused to take him to the vets saying "this is my cat, Crack Whore". I put his name and my number on
his collar, and we thought everything was fine.
Cue about a month or so later, we get in from work and there's no cat. Doesn't come when called, no idea where he
is. I have a couple of missed calls on my mobile, but no answerphone message. I call the number, and discover that
Fidget's previous owners (who don't live all that far away, as it turned out) had spotted him in their garden,
snatched him up and locked him inside their house. Saw he had a collar on, so called the number on the collar. We
explained the situation, they said "well he's our cat". We arranged to go round to see them (Jamie went, and took
all evidence of money we'd spent on the cat - by this stage including vaccinations!), but there was noone in. We of
course were devastated, because we'd really started to love having him around. Anyhow, we tried calling them but
had no luck, Jamie left several messages. Then, as we were about to go to bed, I had one last look out of the
window.. and there he was! Clamouring to be let in, when we did let him in it was obvious noone had fed him, because
he was starving. He was quite obviously distressed. We believe the previous owners had neglected him (and
probably their other cat), and once they'd got him back in the house they'd shut him inside and either gone out for
the evening, or ignored us when we came round. Eventually they must have let him out, or he escaped, and he came
straight back to us!. He didn't leave the house/garden for about three weeks after this.
He is now incredibly settled, and is an absolute angel. He never makes a fuss, hardly ever cries, only bites or
scratches playfully, never forcefully. He stays in at night and doesnt complain, loves company but isn't too soppy. All
in all, he's the perfect cat. And he's absolutely beautiful.
we took in around the beginning of July 2006. He kept turning up at our house, desperate for food, skinny as you
like. He would sleep in our garden all the time, but would run away from us if we tried to approach him.
Remembering how we got Floyd to trust us, I employed the same tactics on Fidget, and he instantly warmed to the
attention. He started coming inside, but would never sit still, always on the move. This led to me wanting to call him
Fidget, but Andy and Jamie said that while he was not our cat, we had to give him a silly name (see Crotchspider,
below), so he was named Crack Whore, as he looked like a junkie out to get his next fix.
Eventually, we realised just how thin/hungry he was and took him to the vet to get him checked out. They said he
was fine, just needed some feeding and some love, but since we'd said he was a stray, they checked him for a
microchip. Sure enough, he was chipped, and after much arseing about, realised that the chip wasnt actually
registered to anyone! So I registered the chip with my details, bought him a collar and we settled on Fidget as a
name, as I refused to take him to the vets saying "this is my cat, Crack Whore". I put his name and my number on
his collar, and we thought everything was fine.
Cue about a month or so later, we get in from work and there's no cat. Doesn't come when called, no idea where he
is. I have a couple of missed calls on my mobile, but no answerphone message. I call the number, and discover that
Fidget's previous owners (who don't live all that far away, as it turned out) had spotted him in their garden,
snatched him up and locked him inside their house. Saw he had a collar on, so called the number on the collar. We
explained the situation, they said "well he's our cat". We arranged to go round to see them (Jamie went, and took
all evidence of money we'd spent on the cat - by this stage including vaccinations!), but there was noone in. We of
course were devastated, because we'd really started to love having him around. Anyhow, we tried calling them but
had no luck, Jamie left several messages. Then, as we were about to go to bed, I had one last look out of the
window.. and there he was! Clamouring to be let in, when we did let him in it was obvious noone had fed him, because
he was starving. He was quite obviously distressed. We believe the previous owners had neglected him (and
probably their other cat), and once they'd got him back in the house they'd shut him inside and either gone out for
the evening, or ignored us when we came round. Eventually they must have let him out, or he escaped, and he came
straight back to us!. He didn't leave the house/garden for about three weeks after this.
He is now incredibly settled, and is an absolute angel. He never makes a fuss, hardly ever cries, only bites or
scratches playfully, never forcefully. He stays in at night and doesnt complain, loves company but isn't too soppy. All
in all, he's the perfect cat. And he's absolutely beautiful.
Spook (1988/89? - 2nd March 2008)
Spook was Jamie's cat for a very long time. She was a Russian Blue, she was absolutely tiny, but extremely
noisy!
From what Jamie's told me, her story goes something like this. When she was a very young kitten, she was
bought by some people who lived in a high rise flat, in the flat above Jamie's piano teacher. Their existing
cat didn't take too well to the kitten, so they shut Spook out on the balcony (she can't have been more
than 6-7 weeks old at this point). Spook duly fell off the balcony, and was extremely fortunate enough to
land on the balcony of the piano teacher, who took her in. Knowing that Jamie's family cat had recently
passed away, she gave the kitten to them. Jamie remembers being driven back from the flat to their
house, cradling the very small kitten Spook in his arms in the back of the car. He thinks he was 11 or 12 at
the time.
As you can see from the dates, this puts her at almost 20 years old when she finally passed away, which is
an extremely long time. These Russian Blue's are very long lived!
Spook suffered from thyroid problems later in her life, but she always remained lively and lovely. Having
been denied the opportunity to learn from her natural mother, Spook was brought up by the family dog, a
Yorkie called Misty. Spook would use her penetrating calls much in the way a dog would bark, and she had a
unique way of sitting up and begging for food when the family were sat round the dining table.
She became ill near the beginning of 2008, and in spite of all the efforts of the vets, there wasn't really
anything they could do. Jamie was visiting his folks, and she began to deteriorate. On the 2nd March, they
decided to take her back to the vets to see if anything was to be done, or more likely, to have her put to
sleep. Jamie sat in the back of the car, cradling Spook in his arms, as they drove away from the house.
Sadly, little Spook didn't even make it as far as the vets; she snuggled up to Jamie and died in his arms.
noisy!
From what Jamie's told me, her story goes something like this. When she was a very young kitten, she was
bought by some people who lived in a high rise flat, in the flat above Jamie's piano teacher. Their existing
cat didn't take too well to the kitten, so they shut Spook out on the balcony (she can't have been more
than 6-7 weeks old at this point). Spook duly fell off the balcony, and was extremely fortunate enough to
land on the balcony of the piano teacher, who took her in. Knowing that Jamie's family cat had recently
passed away, she gave the kitten to them. Jamie remembers being driven back from the flat to their
house, cradling the very small kitten Spook in his arms in the back of the car. He thinks he was 11 or 12 at
the time.
As you can see from the dates, this puts her at almost 20 years old when she finally passed away, which is
an extremely long time. These Russian Blue's are very long lived!
Spook suffered from thyroid problems later in her life, but she always remained lively and lovely. Having
been denied the opportunity to learn from her natural mother, Spook was brought up by the family dog, a
Yorkie called Misty. Spook would use her penetrating calls much in the way a dog would bark, and she had a
unique way of sitting up and begging for food when the family were sat round the dining table.
She became ill near the beginning of 2008, and in spite of all the efforts of the vets, there wasn't really
anything they could do. Jamie was visiting his folks, and she began to deteriorate. On the 2nd March, they
decided to take her back to the vets to see if anything was to be done, or more likely, to have her put to
sleep. Jamie sat in the back of the car, cradling Spook in his arms, as they drove away from the house.
Sadly, little Spook didn't even make it as far as the vets; she snuggled up to Jamie and died in his arms.
These cats all cats belong to a friend of mine. Their stories are told elsewhere on the web, but I include their pictures here because I love them all, almost
as much as if they were my own pets. They are all pedigree Maine Coons, so I have included both their full pedigree titles, plus their usual pet names!
as much as if they were my own pets. They are all pedigree Maine Coons, so I have included both their full pedigree titles, plus their usual pet names!
Atticus Aurora Borealis (Squeaky)
Tangaloor Toccara Firetip (Tocci)
Tangaloor Dante's Inferno
(Dante)
(Dante)
Tangaloor Tortilla (Tia)
Tangaloor Loki Trickster
(Loki)
(Loki)
Tangaloor Zuki Firetip (Zuki)
Lunaris Shadow of Amonet
(Ami)
(Ami)
You can find out more about these gorgeous
Maine Coons by visiting their website:
Maine Coons by visiting their website:
These adorable boys are Hearthrug Rosco P Coltrane (left) and Hearthrug Bo Duke (right). They are
brothers, and they are the wonderful kittens who have filled the empty space left in Jamie's parents lives
following the death of Spook. They were bred by a friend of mine, their family you can see further down
the page.
They are both absolutely adorable, super cute cats, who are doing a wonderful job of keeping Jamie's
parents company. Rosco is bigger than Bo, but Bo is rapidly catching up. Rosco already tips the scales at over
6 kilos, and Bo is over 5 kilos, and they are only 9 months old.
As you can see, they both share the same adorable markings, which are developing more and more as they
get older. They will both be very handsome boys. Bo is also starting to look a lot like his uncle Dante.
Both kittens have been suffering from a virus, which has left Bo temporarily unable to hear. His balance
was affected as well, however this has recovered to the extent that he is now able to jump and doesn't
miss his target anymore. They absolutely adore each other.
brothers, and they are the wonderful kittens who have filled the empty space left in Jamie's parents lives
following the death of Spook. They were bred by a friend of mine, their family you can see further down
the page.
They are both absolutely adorable, super cute cats, who are doing a wonderful job of keeping Jamie's
parents company. Rosco is bigger than Bo, but Bo is rapidly catching up. Rosco already tips the scales at over
6 kilos, and Bo is over 5 kilos, and they are only 9 months old.
As you can see, they both share the same adorable markings, which are developing more and more as they
get older. They will both be very handsome boys. Bo is also starting to look a lot like his uncle Dante.
Both kittens have been suffering from a virus, which has left Bo temporarily unable to hear. His balance
was affected as well, however this has recovered to the extent that he is now able to jump and doesn't
miss his target anymore. They absolutely adore each other.
Rosco (8th March 2008 - present)
Bo (8th March 2008 - present)
Bo (8th March 2008 - present)
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