Conference misery::feline_v1

    My very first cat was Smokey.  My parents already had him when
    I was born but he became my cat right away.  Mom said that he
    slept both in my crib and carriage with me when I was an infant.
    When I was old enough to stand in the playpen, whenever Smokey
    came into the room, I would get so excited that I would tremble
    and say, "kiki, kiki" and he would come into the playpen with me.
    Then, as a toddler, he followed me everywhere--just like a dog--
    and if I cried, he would wind around my legs to comfort me.
    (When my sister came along later and cried, he would run to be
    let out!)
    
    Unfortunately, I didn't have Smokey in my life for very long.  He
    had reoccuring ear tumors and when I was 4, my parents decided to
    put him to sleep.  One of my stronger childhood memories is being
    in the car while this happened and crying and asking if Smokey would
    go to "kitty heaven" so I could see him when I went to heaven!
    
    Muffy, our tiger, came along when I was 8 and was with us for almost
    20 years.  There were so many special things about Muffy that it
    kind of all blends together to give me a warm, glowy feeling when I
    think about him.  Especially wonderful was how he was there when
    I was going through those rough teenage years.  He got cried on 
    so many times and always just laid there and purred reassuring me
    that he love me, no matter what!  When, he was put to sleep just
    months before his 20th birthday, my mom didn't call me for 3 days.
    (Dad had come home from lunch and taken him because even Mom didn't
    want to know exactly when it was going to happen.)  I think it was
    2 or 3 years before we all stopped tearing up whenever we talked
    about him.
    
    Thanks, Lynne, for starting this note.  It's made me feel good--
    remembering.
    
    Barbara

       Wow!  This could be a long note!  How can you capsulize memories
    of kitties?  What a challenge.......!
    
     My first kitty was Kitsa,  he was a huge black and white unfixed
    male. (My Dad at the time could not see the point of, you know..
    fixing, a male).  He used to scratch and bite all the time and leave
    for days at a time, however he LOVED to be vacuumed!  He would sleep
    on a sunny bureau and when the vac came out, he'd let you suck his
    tail right down the tube!
    
     My Tabby was with me for 14+ years,  he was the first cat when I
    left home at 17. He went with me to all the different apartments I
    lived in. When he was a kitten, he would ride everywhere with me
    in the pocket of my sweater.  When he was too big for that, it was
    my big handbag.  After that, well, he used to walk to the car.
    He loved the car!
    
     Ruby, the love of my cat life Maine Coon, was 19 when he died. The
    funniest thing he ever did was chase that darn german shepard dog
    right out of the yard. The neighbors loved it!  The poor dog actually
    wimpered as this massive black bear of a cat charged him..what a cat!
    I loved the way he'd kiss my nose in the night, and I'd look up at
    him and could see the love in his face reflecting in the moonlight.....
    
     Noella, who was only 4 when she died of FELV, loved fashion.  She
    loved getting me dressed, picking out my outfits, telling me if
    something looked good or not.  She had her own jewelry, she loved
    necklaces.  And what a smile, an angel's face......
    
                         Denise

    
    
    	You know, it's funny you should enter this note today.
    	This morning, for some odd reason, I started remembering
    	Gracie whom I lost last July. She was just a year old.
    	She was a beautiful little Calico. The lady at the vet's
    	office called her a "money cat". She was such a case.
    	She would crawl up into my lap and stretch out FAR on her
    	back with her toes in my tummy and her head over my knees.
    	She would purr like crazy and get her little ears rubbed.
    	When she was a baby, she would occasionally get on Catnippy's
    	nerves and when Gracie either misbehaved (I would give her
    	a look...) or got on Catnippy's nerves, Catnip would knock
    	her over on the carpet onto her back, hold her down with one
    	paw and "spank" her with the other one. When spring and summer
    	came, she refused to come in when twilight set in. We would 
    	have to go outside and "track" her down and close in on her
    	to catch her and get her inside where she would be safe. Being
    	only a year old, the world was a kind place to her with nothing
    	that couldn't be chased. We sure do miss her.
    
    						Kim and the Nipper
    

    Two memories come to me about my first cat, Kathryn.  I remember
    the first time I was her.  She was born to a friend's cat and the
    first time I met her she was small enough to lay on her back in the
    palm of my hand.  The minute our eyes met we were bonded for life.
    I'll never forget that sweet little face.
    
    The other memory I have of Kathryn was the time she scared the living
    daylights out of me by getting out of the tent in the middle of the
    night and climbing on top of it!  I awoke to this scrabbling noise
    on top of the tent and it took me a bit before I recognized the
    catshaped foot that I could see through the canvas.  Kathryn had
    figured out how to undo the zippers that kept the tent closed up.
    I retrieved her and we foiled future escape attempts by tieing the 
    "zipper-tags" together.
    
      I also remember the day she died and picking that little body up
    off the neighbor's driveway.  There was no blood or visible injury.
    She was just "broken" and we couldn't fix her.
      Nancy DC

    So many cats = so many memories......When I was a kid, my mom
    had a friend who owned a farm.  My mom took my sister & I down 
    to visit.  My last cat,"Rusty", a big morris-type, had been
    accidently poisoned and had died.  When we got to the farm, there
    were "dozens" (o.k., probably 3-4, but I was only 6-7!) of kittens
    running around in the yard & barn.  Begging mom to let me have a
    kitten, she looked at her friend, who said it was o.k. with her.
    Mom then laughed, and said, "If you can catch one, you can have
    it".  Seems the kittens were a little wild, and unapproachable.
    Well, you guessed it...."Rusty 2" took less then 10 mins to catch.
    My family still thinks to this day, that I have this "Cat Beacon"
    inside somewhere that sends out a silent message that "here is a
    sucker for a furry face".  They just KNOW.....
    
    L-

    I have had many cats, but the one that stands out most is Watkins.  I
    got Watkins because all of my friends were going to Watkins Glenn, NY
    for the 3 day outside concert and my parents would not let me go.  So I
    bribed them into letting me get a kitten at the animal rescue league,
    hence the name Watkins.
    
    She was a beautiful grey cat with flecks of orange in her.  Very
    petite.  Even my family whom I lived with at the time remembers her as
    a special cat.  She was the first cat we ever had that "talked" to us. 
    She was a great hunter, too (even tho I hated it when she would bring
    home her catches cuz I love all living creatures).
    
    One stormy winters day, Watkins didn't come home.  I searched
    everywhere for her.  After three days, I was looking out the window and
    saw her crawling up to the house.  My guess was that a plow had hit her
    because her hip was broken.  She must have been walking on the side of
    the road when a plow came along and she probably had no where to go
    because in those days the snowbanks were quite high.  Anyway to make a
    long story short, she had gotten pregnant and could not deliver the
    babies (she was in labor for 15 hours!)  I was quite niave in those
    days and my parents took her to the vet, but they had her put to sleep
    cuz it would have cost too much to save her.  I was heartbroken. She
    was only 1 yr old.
    
    I learned many great lessons from that cat (do not let cats got outside
    and get them spayed).  I shall never forget her.
    
    Thanks for this note - it is great!
    
    Anna

    What a nice note!  The lady of my childhood was my first cat,
    a blue point Siamese named "Lucky".  We got her when I was 7,
    because I saw an advertisement for kittens in a newspaper when
    we were on vacation at Cape Cod.  We stopped over to Brewster
    on our way home, and I picked her out. We almost didn't get one,
    because my parents wanted a male cat, but by the time we got there,
    the males had been sold.  I pleaded with my parents, and they let
    me get a female, but my dad said I was "lucky" to get her!  The
    name stuck.
    
    Lucky was the epitome of why some people don't like Siamese.  She
    was loud, she was cranky, she bit, she scratched - but she was a 
    real sweetie when she was in the mood to be - and she was *very*
    smart!  Our friends thought we were crazed to have this cat, but
    she adored my mother.  My Mom used to pick her up and waltz her
    around the kitchen while she was listening to the "beautiful music"
    station on the radio.  Lucky loved it.  She would lay in my Mom's
    arms like a rag doll and purr and purr.  She played fetch and used 
    to sleep upside down on top of the refridgerator. She went blind
    when she was about 15, but that didn't stop her either. My parents
    moved to the Cape when she was 17 and she did just fine.  She loved
    to sleep on the deck in the sunshine, or inspect the yard on her
    leash with Dad.  Once in a while she would forget where she 
    was and try to go upstairs (my parents moved from a two story house to
    a ranch), but she adjusted ok.  My mother used to say she knew she
    had come back home to the Cape.  A couple of years ago, she started
    failing, and finally died in her sleep one morning.  She was 20. 
    Mom and Dad buried her in the garden and put a flat stone with her
    name and dates engraved on it there.  The impatiens grows beautifully
    there every summer.
    
    She was quite a cat.
    
    Mary-Michael

    Gee...with this note I hadn't thought of my first kitty.  I was about 4
    or 5, my one of my brothers found her.  All white, big yellow eyes, as
    my memory goes, she was about a year old.  Short hair.  We named her,
    get this one!!!!-------> Ditto.  What?  Don't ask me what it means. My
    mom's Mother was a wonderful Finish woman and ----- she came up with
    that hum-dinger!!!
    
    Ditto was my sister.........I have a sister, who is old enough to be my
    mom andis wonderful, but Ditto was it.  She came to me for comfort,
    cuddles, food, fun.. She was always there for me.  As being a little
    girl, I figured she'd live forever.  And she just about did.
    
    She was an outdoors cat and very independant!  She would make me more,
    so much on my bed so SHE could sleep. She would meow at the bathroom
    sink for us to make it drip so she could drink.  Pat at the faucet till
    she got her way.  She also, at Chrismas time, had a box, empty one,
    right infront of the Christmas tree, she loved to sleep in boxes.  This
    came to be, so much of her life, she would sit and wait, till we were
    done decorating and look at us like, "WELL YOUR NOT DONE, TILL MY BOX
    IS THERE!"  And then it came..........
    
    She never went to the vet for anything.  She grew old and we new
    something was wrong, had her checked out at the ripe-old-age of 21 and
    she had cancer.  She was put to rest.............and I was in my early
    twenties.  I felt like I was putting my sister to sleep.  So from that
    day on, I swore I'd do everything in my power to help kitties, when I
    could, and never leave one alone again, if they must go to their rest.
    
    I'm so happy to have had a FUR_FACE Sister......
    
    					Carol Weston
    
    

    I was never allowed to have a cat as a child, since I was allergic
    to them.  Ironically, my father gave me my very first kitten, after
    I had moved out.  My stepsister had found it, and had been harboring
    it in her bedroom closet.  They couldn't keep it so dad offered
    it to me.  I jumped at the chance.
    
    She was a gorgeous blue longhair with white feet, and an inverted
    V of white on her face.  She had incredible green eyes, that were
    outlined in black, making her look like she had eyeliner on.  I
    named her Cleopatra, cause her eyes made me think of Cleopatra all
    made up.  I had to change her name later cause my SO at the time
    had a three year old son who couldn't say Cleopatra.  We changed
    it to Chrissi.
    
    I knew nothing about cats, so checked out every book I could get
    my hands on those first few weeks.  My apartment didn't allow pets,
    so I kept her inside, and tried to conceal her.  I kept her litter
    pan under the bathroom sink, in the cabinet, and taught her to open
    the cabinet to go in and use it.  She was a quick learner.  I never
    caught on that cats need to scratch, and didn't provide her with
    a post, so she destroyed all my drapes and furniture.  But, I wouldn't
    have considered declawing her.  My vet was strongly against it,
    and told me all about it.  He convinced me.
    
    Finally Chrissi and I got rid of the SO, and it was just the two
    of us.  We were very happy.  Then, the landlord found out about
    her and told me to get rid of her or move.  I moved.  I found us
    a condo across town, but Chrissi was rather attached to the old
    apartment.  Three times she escaped the house and ran back there.
    Each time we found her, and she was uninjured.
    
    When Ken came into my life, he was very allergic.  Chrissi loved
    him, and used to rub against his face and then stand there and wait
    for him to sneeze. :^)  She had to know what she was doing.  Ken
    and I decided to get a house in the country together, and we had
    adopted a few other cats along the way, so all of us moved to Morgan
    Hill together a few years later.  By then, Chrissi was about 5 years
    old.  We decided to let all four cats outside since we were in the
    country.  Well, about a year later, Chrissi went out one morning,
    and didn't come home for dinner.
    
    I searched all over for her.  We went door to door, put up notices,
    put ads in the papers, visited all the shelters, but never found
    her.  After several months, I finally accepted that she was really
    gone, and that I had to go on.  I adopted a cat that I had made
    friends with at the shelter, and he helped to fill the void in my
    life that losing Chrissi had created.
    
    I will always remember Chrissi.  She did some funny things in her
    lifetime.  There was the time that I had to give her children's
    sudafed for a bad cold, and she foamed up pink foam for two hours
    after every dose.  I remember when she climbed the Christmas tree
    and for a brief instant, she was queen of the mountain as she sat
    there so proud, right next to the angel, before the tree came toppling
    to the ground. I remember when she stole a steak out of the marinade
    on the counter and then ran under the heaviest piece of furniture
    in the house, so that I couldn't lift it to get her out.  I would
    move the chair, and she would just move with it, happily munching
    on my dinner while she did.  Then, there was the time I had a friend
    over and we both thought she was being so cute when she climbed
    into the friend's large handbag, until we realized that she had
    just peed in it! :^)  She was quite a character, always finding
    new ways to embarrass mom.
    
    When I think back on Chrissi, and how little I knew about cats then,
    I have to thank her for being so patient with me, and for teaching
    me so well.  She made my first experience with cats a very special
    one.  If not for her, I might not have grown to be the cat lover
    that I am today.
    
    Jo