Stray Cat Strut: The Kitten Chronicles

Teeny tiny bundle of trouble

Teeny tiny bundle of trouble

Kitties are my weakness — maybe even more so than beer and foie gras. At house parties I am the person on the floor making friends with the host’s cats. In my neighborhood, I’m the house that stray cats flock to, knowing they will get food and pets (if they allow it).

When I started this blog, I had three cats each of whom got their own introductory post. I lost the oldest one, Friday, a few months later. Since then I’ve had only two, tuxedos Lucifer and Gus Gus, both strays that my husband and I took in after finding them on the streets. Even though they are years apart in age, they have clearly come to love each other like brothers.

cute kitties

Gus Gus giving Lucifer a bath.

While I adore my “gruesome twosome,” I admit over the past few months I have been dreaming of kittens. I’ve put off seriously looking to adopt because I guess in my heart I believe taking in a stray is the best thing to do. I also believe (since they’ve always managed to before) that the right stray will find me.

And — almost like magic — two days before Thanksgiving an abandoned kitten needing a home practically dropped in my lap. Well, literally, she was dropped at my company’s farm out in rural Oregon. I won’t spend much time talking about how callous a person must be to dump two kittens barely a month old in a box in the middle of winter…I’ll focus on the good part.

The kitten and her adorable brother, both deemed healthy by a vet, were brought to the office and immediately cuddled and fawned over by the whole staff. I laid claim to the girl kitty, a teeny tiny tortoiseshell, who the vet said weighed just over a pound. Her brother was taken home by one of my co-workers so the story really is a happy one.

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My cats like it when I cook…

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Simply for the possibility that the kitchen window will be open.

Tuxedo kitties in window

Longing for the squirrels that they cannot chase.

Tuxedo kitties in window

The gruesome twosome: always optimistic that one day the screen will not be there.

The life of a tropical island cat…

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I am sure that in all honesty island life is hard on stray kitties, but this guy seems to do just fine. Grand Case Beach Club, St. Martin.

I am sure that in all honesty island life is hard on stray kitties, but this guy seems to do just fine. Grand Case Beach Club, St. Martin.

Things that make me happy: A cat who plays the cowbell

Meet Tuna. Tuna is part of the AcroCats — which you totally need to read up on. I’m serious — click this link. Tuna plays the cowbell for baby food (chicken flavor).

Tuna’s friend Dakota plays percussion for their band, the Rock Cats. I saw them play live. Let me assure you the music sucked, but it was one of the best afternoons of my life.

A quick moment to appreciate the quirkiness of cats

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A few weeks ago, I was in the middle of changing my sheets and digging out all of the throw pillows from underneath the bed, when I was distracted by the siren call of Law & Order SVU. A few hours later, I returned to complete the task and found this waiting for me…

Hey, as long as he’s comfortable right?

Oh Lucifer, you used to be such a street-smart alley cat. Now look at you — you’re like a feline version of the Princess and the Pea.

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Things that make me smile: fluffy cats without a care

My name is Gus Gus and I do what I want.

My cats, like all cats I’m sure, are obsessed with eating. They will eat just about anything, but I think they appreciate a change in diet just as much as the next person. So this picture is an example of a fairly routine thing that happens in our house — a torn open bag of new cat food, even though there is plenty of the old food still in the dish.

I guess I understand — since we tend to buy food in the big Costco bags, they eat the same thing for extended time periods. Occasionally we’ll have to supplement with a small bag from the grocery store and when we do, it’s like keeping cookies away from children.

What I like best about this picture is the expression Gus Gus has on his face — he knows he’s been busted but, again like most cats, he just doesn’t care.