The Clan

Well, I warned you I'd introduce them, so here they are!

I don't quite know how it happened, but it seems I am practicing for my Crazy-old-lady-that-lives-in-the-scary-house-with-all-that-cats licence. I wouldn't call myself a 'cat person', nor a 'dog person' for that matter. I love them all. It just happens that where I live, and my lifestyle, it wouldn't be fair to keep a dog.

Originally I just had the one cat, Billy, who I rescued from being put down because his owners were moving overseas. This was when I was still married (more on that episode in my life another day, I'm sure). Then Kirby adopted us. He was a stray, and he literally walked into the house one day, jumped up onto the arm of the chair in which I was sitting, looked at me and said 'What's on telly?'. For a long time it was the four of us (including the hubby). And then it was the three of us (excluding the hubby!). Billy was killed last Halloween, hit by a car, and so it was just Kirby and me.

Even though Kirby and Bill had never gotten on particularly well, both being male and territorial (even thought they WERE desexed), Kirby did seem rather depressed in the empty house, and I'll admit I missed Billy terribly. We had had a connection unlike I'd ever had with a pet before. When he died, I stayed up all night, just stroking his coat, because I couldn't bare the thought of him being alone before we buried him.

Kirby and I had been living like that for about three months when a woman at work came in quite upset. Her (adult) daughter had found a cat who'd just had four kittens in their yard, and she didn't know what to do. She is terribly allergic, but when she called the RSPCA and Cat Protection Society, they both said they would have to put them all down, as they simply had too many strays at the moment. OK, so I may have been caught in a moment of insanity, but I volunteered to foster them until they were old enough to be weaned and adopted. They were only a day old.

Since then, they've grown, terrorised Kirby's tail, destroyed my pot plants, learnt to climb virtually everything in the house, and given me hours and hours of delight. I don't regret my decision for a moment. My sister ended up adopting two of the kittens, and I have kept the mother cat and the remainder kittens. So here they are.

Nina, the best little mother I've ever seen. She has now been desexed and is allowed into the yard (much to her delight... I think she really enjoys the break from the kids!)

Chloe, who is a delicate little lady, until it comes time to rumble her brother. She's smart and acrobatic, but never with a hair out of place.

Ziggy, the little devil, gets himself into all sorts of scrapes because he's exuberance simply leaps out of his skin. If you look into his eyes sometimes, it's like he's been here a hundred times before. He's an old soul, and a newborn, all at once. Yep, I adore this little guy.

And a special mention should be given to Kirby, who has shared his home with... well I can't say without complaint. Sometimes I think he's going to pack his little bags and move home. Fortunately his tail seems to be less attractive as the family is getting older. He is VERY sensitive about who touches his tail. Kirby is like the cranky old bachelor uncle that comes to visit on Christmas Day. All he wants to do is crack open a beer, watch the sports on TV, and scratch his bum occassionally. What he gets is little people racing around his chair at a million miles an hour. "Get those !Q#$$#%#$% kids away from me!!!!!" Yet for all the muttering about how awful this generation of kids are, sometimes I catch him watching them play chasings around the living room and I'm sure I can see a smile playing on the corner of his little pink mouth.

So, have I earned that Crazy-old-lady-that-lives-in-the-scary-house-with-all-that-cats qualification yet?? Yeah, thought so.

Till next time.