Category: Cats (page 2 of 2)

Strider: 3rd Update

Last night on the way to the evening service of our church we pulled out of our subdivision, turned, went to the corner to turn again … and straight ahead in the bushes, there sat a White Leghorn “preening” it’s self. Odd. We live in the country, there are chickens all around, but never once have we seen one loose like that on any of the roads around the ‘little town’.

I was curious to see if it was still there when we got home. Upon getting back to that spot a few hours later, it was very dark, I had asked Frank to slow down so I could look for it, and right at the same spot I did see something “white-ish” but it could have been anything, a bag, or something. Frank had turned by then, and decided to turn around and go head-on like when we had first spotted it earlier.

For certain, it was a white chicken with red comb smooshing itself into the ground as best as it could, but was obviously the same chicken. I had the desire to get the chicken, but Frank wanted nothing to do with it. I figured it was “sent from God” since I need more eggs, if it’s a hen, it’s valuable to me. All night it was bothering me, in my sleep. Frank had laughed about what I’d said, but still didn’t want to get the chicken.

I also was thinking it was something to smooth over Striders leaving us. So then Frank got up just after 5am to leave for some work he had to do. When he was going I was tired and just said “Chicken” hoping to prompt him to go get that chicken for me. He left, but then came back into the house, and I knew something was up. Chicken … or something else?

The last few days I’d been continuing to call for Strider, but hadn’t ever even once spotted him, nor got a report from anyone else spotting him. No meows, no silver/gray subtle stipedy-ish cat around anywhere.

So Frank got me outside, by saying there was a cat in the garage, and it was either Dixie or Strider. He thought maybe Dixie had got out via the garage yesterday. He’d kept the garage door partially opened in case that would tempt Strider in, ever since he was missing. So he at this point shut the garage door entirely.

Frank left, and I stood in the garage calling for a kitty. Nothing was answering. I went and found the flashlight then.

What Frank told me right before he left was a different story:

He walked out the front door, down the sidewalk, and saw a long cat by the front tire of the van, and it was facing going up the driveway, away. It was moving that direction when it spotted Frank, and they looked at each other, [seeing as this was before 5:30am, it was very dark] the cat stopped, then turned around and ran back into the garage. Frank then ran to the van to hit the garage door button.

He didn’t know for sure if it was Strider, but thought it was probably, and it could only maybe be his sister, if’n she had gotten out somehow last night.

So then when Frank was still there he moved a box in the garage to see if the cat was behind something, but it was too dark to see anything. He left at that point. I came back with the flashlight a bit later, and sure enough, there was a gray/silver side of a cat back there. I called. No answer. I called and called and called, talked silly to him. It was definitely Striders side I was seeing. I then told him I’d be right back, I was going to get him an egg.

When I got back with a plate and the egg, he firstly meowed once, and pushed himself back a bit and sat up and I saw his eyes finally. I showed him the egg, tried to entice him out, but he wouldn’t move futher. He started really meowing then though, a good sign. So I cracked the egg open and put it on the plate and pushed it closer to him. I couldn’t reach him [if you know us at all, there’s always at least one spot in the house like this: stacked with our boxes of things, it gets moved from here to there to here to there πŸ™‚ the here is the garage, the there is the familyroom/basement ]

Well Strider came forward slowly, smelled the egg, then started lapping it up, obviously enjoying his old favorite. I didn’t venture to touch him until the egg was almost gone, and then I only scratched the top of his head back and then forth, once. He didn’t flinch, so when he paused hadn’t quite licked the plate clean, I reached into the opening he was in, and pulled him out. And right then, he started purring loudly. My baby was back! He was frightened, he didn’t look all mellow and loving as “usual”.

Where he’d been since November 19th, we just can’t say. Perhaps in the garage. But never had I heard him in there, or seen him there, on the street, driveway, nothing. I’d go in the garage frequently to call there, the deck, the backyard, the front porch, the driveway, the front yard, calling …. Heeeeerrrrrrre Kitty,kitty,kitty,kitty,kitty,kitty,kitty,kitty, over and over. High and low, melodic, straight. Any way to just get his attention.

So in the end, he was here. He was spotted. He was trapped. He does still love me. He’s sat on my lap, plyed me for petting, belly rubs, hugs, carrying. I gave the cats all an early breakfast. Chicken parts. Strider went in no problem, chew on one piece, then dragged it off to the corner to do some more on it. Good old boy.

The other cats are all in an obviously heightened mode — “Who are you? Do we know you? Let me smell you! No, let me smell you again! Who are you? Do we know you? Really? Is it you? Really? No, it can’t be, let me smell you again!”

My heart is full, a piece has been restored.

I’d still like that chicken though. πŸ™‚

Strider: 2nd Update

It’s now after 5pm on Saturday, and Strider has not come home yet. I continue to call for him out front and out back, and pray for his return.

He is just nowhere that we can figure. It’s just something I wasn’t prepared for, this cat who “seemed” to love me as much as I loved him, if he not more than I, just walks away one night.

I keep anticipating opening the front door and finding my dear kitty there. Or go into the backyard to attend the hennies, and have him come up to me and rub my legs when I’m not “all-awares-looking-for-Strider” out there. Sigh.

Strider: 1st Update

Strider hasn’t come home yet. I’ve nearly given up hope. It’s been more than 24 hours since he’s been missing, already.

Today we left flyers at the two vets in the town near us, and at the county animal control shelter, filled out a missing animal report there as well. I’ve listed an ad online at petfinders. Frank has talked to most of the people in our subdivision, that’s about 50 to 60 people perhaps … at there being nearly 70 houses here. There is a junk yard behind our subdivision. We live in the middle, with trees across the street from the front of the house, and the street behind us is further, with another property behind ours of course, then across that street behind houses there are trees, with the junk yard right behind that. Across from the front of us the trees are thick and deep, all part of the properties that houses are on. There is a deep ravine there as well … who knows what is down there. Did Strider go any of those directions? Or did he linger outside of someone’s house and he’s inside, but someone who we haven’t talked to yet.

Where did he go. Where oh where did he go.

After all this I was remembering about Bleu, he went out a door while we were gone and never came back back in 1999. But in the recesses of my mind I’m recalling that sometime previous to that he got out and was gone … for a few days or more, don’t recall how long … but that he did come home and we took him to the vet for a check over, to make sure he wasn’t injured. We talked about quarantining him in case he contracted something while out … but logistically it wasn’t possible. So then sometime about a year to a year and a half later, he got out for the second and last time.

Based on that, there is hope that Strider will come back. Why this had to happen, I just can’t say. It’s put my mind once again on pet rescue. Just this last Nov 1st it was there, weighing heavily on my mind, as the pups were found. There are websites to help, but that’s not good enough, in my estimation. There needs to be some thing better out there.

I’m not happy with what I’ve found. I consider this to be just one more notch on my experience walking stick … that is branching me out, yet honing me in on future expansion of ministry to community. Not just niche farming, but rescuing animals, picking up feral cat colonies, and having a website and notification and search website for people missing pets and finding strays, and having tools to make the right kind of flyers and posters and where to go and what to do and more.

How to do this all as a private organization, not a State licensed one … that’s the tough part. $$$$$ Well I’m bound and determined to do something like the above, as my God given tasks in life as wife, mother, and steward of living things.

We have, hopefully will return to this number, 6 cats, all self-rescued or adopted from rescue operations, and 2 puppies self-rescued.

I am hoping to become better equipped to train pups and adult dogs to be good obedient companions. I don’t need any training for cats, that’s what I was born being good with. I would love to have a big barn on our next property, just for cats.

One place we found today that supposedly has a high feral population around it, of course, the junk yard. The man there told Frank he guesses there’s at least 100 cats around. That’s the kind of places where I’d love to be able to go and trap the cats and bring them to my cat barn to live, and find homes for the ones I can. Let the rest live there, eating raw food and being happy. I love kitties. I just need that property and the barn. And a good supply of chickens and rabbits and such, from my future farm, for their food.

All of this weighs on me as I think of Strider and where he may be, hoping he is still alive and healthy, and asking God to please watch over him and bring him back home safe and sound. It’s a good release, not to dwell miserably on just my own missing cat, but to use this as feul for ideas to help others. That’s why I go through anything I do, to help others. That’s what I seem to run into time and again, it’s a continuing theme in my life.

Dear sweet Strider, please come home. I sure wish you will soon, and that when you get here you can talk to me and let me know everything you did, every place you went, everything you saw, while you were away, and let me know why you left, and what made you decide to return home. Ah, if only it were possible. Well, we look for him on our walks with the dogs. I go out front and back and call for him often. Loudly and softly. It’s now 5pm, so it’s been 39 hours since Strider went missing.

Windy Night, missing pet

Last night was very gusty, and it rained heavily off and on. Around 2am I heard a pup whine, then a few minutes later, a big “bark!”. So I went downstairs, only to find the deck door standing wide open.

It must not have been properly latched. The wind was rather fierce. When I got there Dixie was by the door, and ran out onto the deck when I moved. I got her back in the house. We weren’t sure if there were any other cats out. We were so weary, we didn’t have the mindset to do a “total cat count”. So this morning, everyone but Strider is here. We can’t find him. We’ve called and hunted in the house and outside of the house. In the yard, up and down the street. It’s a sad time for me. I lost Bleu a few years ago when the basement door had been left ajar one day when we left for some errands. We got home and Bleu was gone, and never showed up again.

I sure don’t want a repeat of that. I missed Bleu terribly. Strider has been my best buddy, he sort of replaced Bleu for me. So it’d be just TOO ironic for Strider to dissappear the same way.

Well, I’m more than half-way resigned to that being the case. I am very affected though, as well.

Friend or Foe, what it comes to

Cats and puppies: A listing of friend or foe

Cats – 6

Samantha — 11 year old petite black cat. Not interested in the puppies at the least.

Princess — 11 year old big fat tuxedo [black and white] cat. Will watch the puppies from a distance, as long as the pups are in their kitchen pen, or crate.

Strider — 2 1/2 year old gray/silver subtle striped cat. Will walk around the pen when the puppies are in it, rubbing the sides, walk around the top of the pen, get inside the pen and look at the pups. The pups and he smell each other and tolerate each other in there. Victoria sometimes likes to get in there and hold Strider and he stays and purrs up a storm, and Gretchen mostly will interact with Strider. They had a near startup play session today, but I nixed it, so that no one would get hurt.

Dixie — 2 1/2 year old darkgray/gray subtle striped cat (Strider’s litter-mate). She wants nothing to do with the puppies.

Scarlet — 1 year old tortiseshell/calico mix cat. She rubs seductively all around the pen when the puppies are in it, sniffs them through the holes in the pen, sometimes she jumps in and drinks from their water bowl, or just sits there washing herself, and looking at the pups. The pups just look at her.

Foster — under 1 year old brown black tabby cat. He’s petrified of the pups. Want to see a cat tail bloom? Just drop Foster into the pen with pups. Voila! Out Foster will fly out of the pen with tail fully extending in wild bloom.
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Cinnamon Is Gone

She died as I held her head, outside in the grass.

I’ll miss you Cinnamon. I’m glad you lived with us and had a good life these last 5 years. You’ll be missed by all here. πŸ™

Cinnamon’s leaving

Our dear red tabby seems to be on a downward trend, I don’t recall seeing her yesterday, we weren’t home most of the day either. She didn’t come around at bedtime, but I didn’t realise that on til I heard a weird meow a bit ago, and placed that I’d heard other lowd meows earlier. I counted the cats around, and found it was Cinnamon missing, so the one that had to be meowing. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I called “here kitty!” and all the cats came running, except for Cinnamon.

Bad news.

So I finally found her under Victoria’s bed, laying on her side right against the wall. She howled something alful, but wouldn’t move. I had to move the bed aside to get her. She acts weak, her sides are caved in, and she’s breathing hard at times. She won’t eat or drink.

She looks bad. I have her in the hall bathroom on a pillow now. She seemed grateful for the pillow. She’s not howling just laying there so sad looking. Poor thing.

We got her in Aug 1998. She was 2 that next October. Her owner had put her in a vet kennel, and kept her there for awhile before finally giving her up. She didn’t know what to do with her. We were looking for a kitten a few weeks in a row, and saw Cinnamon in the cage at PetsMart that Saturday in 1998. I felt a need to ask about her, and we decided to take her home with us.

The cat is so high strung, really weird. I’m sorry she seems to be dieing, she’s not a happy cat most of the time though. She likes attention, but not the kind one usually likes to give. She likes hard petting in her own way alone, and it’s hard to figure out what it is each time.

She won’t eat with the other cats. She isn’t liked by any of them. She’s a scardy-cat, and I feel bad. I wish it were different, I wish we had a better time together, and I wish she loved the other cats and they her. But she really seems to be going.

I’ve just spent the last 1/2 hour with her, after writing the above. She is not purring, breathing hard, panting every once in awhile, but won’t move. Won’t drink. I put water on her tongue and she doesn’t even lick –no reflex at all. I anticipate having to dig a hole soon. Frank is out of town until tomorrow night.

I’ve been crying, I’ve asked the Lord to preserve her life, or take her soon, she’s not functioning, she’s miserable.

The children say they knew she was under the bed all day. They didn’t know she was ill. They thought she was mad. They didn’t bother to tell me though. Poor kitty. Poor little pretty red kitty. She is awake, and knows, she must. Utterly sad I am. It’s so hard when someone in the family dies. Even if it’s the cat at the bottom rung. Out of 7, she’s 7th. Very beautiful, a female red tabby, unusual. I’ll dig out a picture of her and post it soon. She’s a looker, or was, just didn’t have a good personality. I’ll miss her anyhow. Her favorite thing was to get under the covers in bed and purr. No more of that I guess. πŸ™


Our new kitty has a name now.

St. Foster, or “Foster” for short.

What does it mean? St. stand for “Stephen”. Stephen Foster, composer from the 19th Century … Southern songs.

New kitty in our house!

We picked up our new kitty yesterday. It’s a 7 week old brown, black, and tawny stiped male. He’s so cute. Curtesy the Greenewald family of our church. Out of Bloomer, he’s one of a litter of 5. One female that looked similar, though more tawny than black, and three male versions of red (orange) kittens.

We haven’t dubbed our new addtion with an official name yet, we are working on that. His first name from his birth home was “Tigger”. It’s a good name, but we always re-name all animals when we get them, if they had previous names.

Let’s see, to remember a few of them: Our red tabby female “Cinnamon” was called “Margaret” before we adopted her. Our previous youngest who’s a tortie with a hint of calico look was called “Galaxy” before we adopted her. We renamed her to be “Scarlet”. Strider and Dixie were known by other names as well, but I don’t know what they were. They were 9 months old, brother and sister, when we adopted them.

That’s our adoptees … Samantha I picked up from a garage that had a cat with kittens in the back alley. She was tiny, feisty, and so much my little sweetie from the moment I got her home. Princess was a feral born under our next door neighbors pool deck. We caught her when she was 4 months old, so we were her first human contact. Neat cat. That’s the role call for what we have right now.

Yup, 7 cats, from 11 years old down to 7 weeks old.

Click the above photo for a the first of a series of eight bad photos, taken with our CHEAP digital camera. New kitty and some of our others, eating their meal of raw chicken carcass. We switched the cats over to raw food a few weeks ago. They are doing well. Much better than they used to be on commercial kibble.


My buddy Strider:


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