I will tell you who I am and how it is that I came to be writing this blog.
I am a five-month-old gray tiger cat who was kidnapped from my home in the picturesque setting of a campground in Huntington County, Indiana.
I was born to my very young mother in the spring of 2008. She was a beautiful dark brown tiger cat, not much more than a kitten herself. She gave birth to my brother and I under a camper where we were protected by bales of straw to keep the wind and other elements away.
The man who owned the camper was working on a project in the area and kept an eye on us for many weeks until he moved away, leaving us behind.
My mother moved my brother and I around, always keeping us clean and dry and well-fed, and teaching us what she could from her limited life experiences.
When I was about six weeks old my brother disappeared and never came back. It was months before I was to find out what happened to him.
Then my mother disappeared! I later found out what happened to her also. But there I was, without my family, trying to put into practice everything my mother taught me so that I could survive.
There were always campers and decks to get under for a snooze or for protection from the rain. And I soon learned that if I approached humans (that is what my mother called the people who went in and out of the campers) when they said, "Here, kitty kitty," that I would get thrown a hotdog or a piece of bacon.
So life was pretty good. I had the woods to play in all day, log piles to nap on in the sun, and any time I was hungry I could just appear at a campsite and wait until I heard, "Here, kitty kitty," and I would get a hamburger, hotdog, or whatever. Pretty nice, huh?
One day I was eating at a campsite where I could usually count on a handout from a man who was working in the area. An old lady came over and stared at me. She asked the man about me and told him she had taken my brother to Fort Wayne to live with her. (So that's where he went to!) She also mentioned that another lady had taken my mother to live with her. (So that's where she went to!) I watched and ate and listened.
The man told the old lady that he was going to keep me and take care of me. That I was his little buddy. He did say I was a girl though. Guess he didn't know. The old lady said that was great and asked the man if, when he moved away, he planned on taking me with him. He said yes. She told him my brother was named Marquette (That is NOT the name my mother gave him!) and that she took him to the vet and he didn't have any ear mites, lice, worms or parasites or fleas, and that his feline leukemia test had come back negative. I didn't know what she was talking about, so I just sat there scratching myself and keeping my distance. She said my brother was the perfect kitten. Hmmm.
Over Labor Day weekend the man went away and didn't leave me any food. A family with a boy and girl moved on to a lot next to his camper and they fed me hotdogs and bacon. Eventually I even let the boy pick me up, and then his mother.
I'll be darned if that old lady didn't show up at the campsite and tell this family who I was and that I had this perfect brother who was living with her and that my mother, CTL, was living with someone else. (Now I know my mother's name wasn't CTL!) The old lady told this family that it looked like I had adopted them and that they should take me with them and give me a good home. The mother wanted to, but the father wasn't sure. The old lady came over a couple more times, encouraging the family each time to adopt me. (What is adopt?) She said to leave her a note on her camper and let her know if they took me.
The old lady went back to Fort Wayne and the family (I learned later they were the Taylors from Huntington, Indiana) took off a day later. They left the old lady a note saying the man who had been feeding me came back and that they couldn't find me when it was time for them to leave. Of course I will never confirm or deny that information.
The old lady came back, found the note, saw that I still wasn't being taken care of, and decided to make me her project, I guess. She coaxed me to her camper with Kitten Chow (What, no hotdogs or bacon?) and she talked to me in a soothing voice. I would visit her camper, eat some Chow, and we would have these conversations about how winter would be coming and most of the campers would be empty and wouldn't I like to come live with her and my brother in Fort Wayne and that I would have a warm place to live, health care options, and all the food I could eat. We decided to both think about it for a few days and then get back together to make a decision.
So the old lady left and I sat on the gravel road and watched her pull away, thinking, "I wonder if she is going to abandon me, too, like the man who said I was his buddy, or the Taylors from Huntington who had the boy I really liked?"
But the old lady came back and we talked and SHE decided I was going back to Fort Wayne with her. I trusted her, and what did she do? She put me in a pet taxi and drove me to Fort Wayne and put me in her garage! Not even in the house with Marquette, my perfect brother! Okay, so I had food, water and a litter box and lots of boxes and things to climb on and get into.
That was Sunday and today is Wednesday. This is what has happened since Sunday.
On Monday the old lady checked on me off and on. I heard words like work and lunch break. In the evening she came out with something she called a laser mouse. I didn't pay any attention to the laser mouse because I was too busy chasing this red dot all over the garage. I would put my paw on it but I never felt anything under it. That red dot was very interesting and I got my exercise trying to catch that thing!
Tuesday was pretty much a repeat of Monday except that when the old lady showed up in the afternoon and found me napping in the pet taxi, she latched the door and whisked me off to a place she called the vet's office. That place had a very strange odor and I shrank into the back of the pet taxi.
We could hear a commotion in the outer office while we were in an exam room and it had to do with a very sick dog that had to be put down. I am not sure what that means, but it made the old lady sad and she cried.
Finally the vet came in. My vet, Dr. Stover. I got poked and prodded and something was stuck up my butt, and something else was stuck in my ears, and when it was all over I heard things like, roundworms and hookworms, and fleas, and I got stuck with 3 needles and the old lady was given something called a rabies tag. I had blood drawn and the old lady was told I tested negative for feluke, whatever that is. I was forced to swallow something awful that was supposed to get rid of the roundworms and hookworms. I was given something else to be put on me today for fleas and to also help get rid of the worms.
I weighed 6 pounds and 2 ounces and was told that part of that was worms. My age was estimated at about 5 months. Now I know exactly how old I am and what day I was born, and I also know my secret name, but I will never, ever tell.
The old lady named me Possum. Every time she called me Possum at the campground I thought she was actually talking to a possum. But no. She was calling ME Possum! Why, you might ask? She says it was because she once saw me sleeping in the woods curled into a ball and thought I looked like a possum. Okay, it could be worse. I could have been named after a grape like my brother, Marquette. There are not too many cool grape names.
After we got back from the vet's office I ran and hid. I don't think I will sleep in the pet taxi again any time soon. And I am going to be really cautious about going up to the old lady too.
That brings us to today.
The old lady has the day off, so she has been out to see me a lot. She keeps messing with my litter box. I think it has to do with the worms that I might be passing but that she doesn't see. All I know is that I am spending a lot of time in the litter box!
We talked today about a timeline for me joining Marquette The Perfect and another cat who lives in the house. Her name is Tacumwah and I got just a glimpse of her through the kitchen door that leads to my jail cell. She looks big and kind of regal. (The humans in the house call her The Beautiful Bengal.) I haven't seen my brother yet.
Anyway, I guess I have to stay in the garage until the flea medicine and the wormer have either killed me or cured me. Then I can move into the master bedroom. After that there is this business about neuter and declaw, (I don't even want to know!) booster shots, and another round of wormer. (Oh, boy! More time on the toilet!) Then I go back to the master bedroom, until my fecal comes back negative. At that time I can join the family. This includes, in addition to Marquette The Perfect and Tacumwah The Beautiful, the old lady whose name, I understand, is Kathy. There is another old lady and I have heard her called Bonnie. I have also heard the barks of at least THREE dogs, and the annoying squawk of a bird.
Kathy tells me that if I can just hang in there 3-4 weeks, that I will be very happy and will have a very good life. She chose me to be her mouthpiece because she used to be a writer in another life and liked to keep journals. It is my responsibility now, to record our family history on this blog.
And that is my life so far. Stay tuned.
The Naming of CatsThe Naming of Cats is a difficult matter, It isn't just one of your holiday games;You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatterWhen I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.First of all, there's the name that the family use daily, Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey - All of them sensible everyday names.There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter, Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter - But all of them sensible everyday names.But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular, A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,Else how can he keep his tail perpendicular, Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum, Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum - Names that never belong to more than one cat.But above and beyond there's still one name left over, that is the name that you never will guess;The name that no human research can discover - But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.When you notice a cat in profound meditation, The reason, I tell you, is always the same:His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name: His ineffable effable EffanineffableDeep and inscrutable singular Name.- T.S. Eliot (from "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats")
Marra and Dexter.
Stephanie and Sofie.
Mommy's favorite photo of Sofie.
Me yesterday.
