Jack, my recently adopted 4th cat, will be my last. I won’t be guardian to more felines until one of mine goes over the Rainbow Bridge. And it’s not because I’m afraid of being a crazy cat lady. That boat sailed a while ago.
No, the reason I’m stopping after Jack is because, well, you don’t know Jack. And as it turns out, I didn’t either. Now don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t change my decision to add Jack to my animal family. It’s just that the more I get to know him, his true personality emerges. Need I say more? (Well actually, yes, or I won’t have a blog post today.) Continue reading →
The weird thing is, it’s an actual cat. No surprise I guess, as I’m assuming the saying originated when someone astute recognized that kittens tend to copy their mothers. Hold on while I google that. Okay, I’m back. Turns out the earliest reference to copycat was in 1887 with no mention of felines. After that it gets too boring for words, so Iet’s move along.
My copycat happens to be my cat Tippi, so named because her tipped ear is severe. Seems ever since I adopted the ever-entertaining Jack a few months ago, Tippi’s personality has changed. And not, might I add, for the worse.
I trapped Tippi in a feral colony 2 1/2 years ago in the small farming and ranching community of Valley Ford. Tippi and her 21 assorted siblings were born under the grocery store. Thankfully, the store owners asked us (Marin Friends of Ferals) to have them spayed/neutered before she had 41 siblings. Long story short, I ended up keeping Tippi after realizing she was a tweener – not adoptable at the shelter yet not feral enough to be content living under the market.
I have 4 cats and 4 dogs. All my cats were once living a feral life and of the 4, Savannah is still semi-feral. She heads for cover whenever someone stops by. If cats could cringe, that’s what she’d do when I pick her up. When all the others gather in the family room in the evening, she retires upstairs. I’d say she’s a cat who enjoys her own company.
During the day, the animals come and go through the pet door to enjoy the backyard. But then one day Savannah discovered how to access the front yard via the hot tub, a short leap onto the fence, a walk alongside the shed, then down into the front garden under the maple tree.
Savannah’s garden escape
To Savannah, I suppose it felt like the feline version of the movie, The Shawshank Redemption.
There’s a snake loose in my home. I know this because my chatty cat, Oliver, informed me. I heard him calling me from clear across the house. So naturally, I went to see what all the chatter was about.
Actually, Oliver brought me two snakes, but luckily I managed to grab one and rush it across the street to “Rodent Knoll.” That’s the area where I generally release the gifts my cat so graciously brings me. Math is not my strong suit but I believe that means one snake is still slithering aimlessly inside my house. Continue reading →
I just watched the movie Marley and Me with my fat cat, Jack. Yes, Jack watches TV. He’s a very observant guy. But if you haven’t seen the movie, I’m about to ruin it for you so you should probably skip the next paragraph.
Marley and Me is a comedy about a dog but also a tear-jerker because Marley dies, as dogs will do. I’d already seen the movie but I still cried like a baby. I’m talking crocodile tears that spilled from my eyes, missed my cheeks entirely, then landed on Jack, who lounged on my lap. Pathetic? Yeah, I’d say so.