Another person that I know that has had an experience with a black cat is my veterinarian Dr .Pam. One day the son of a woman, who had just been admitted to a nursing home, walked into Pam's office, with a black cat. The cat had spent her life, on the most part, in a cage in the woman's basement. Pam agreed to try to find a home for the cat and gave the cat a name simply because she needed to put a name on the medical file. She became Sally the cat. Sally was thin and mangy, looking somewhat like a wet rat. She was put through all the tests and given all her shots. Her ears were cleaned, nails clipped and she was de-fleaed. Sally was also the definitive unsocial cat. She spat, she growled, and swatted at everyone with her paw. (Pam said the only reason they have her to this day is because no one wanted her because of her disposition. ) 

Several months after Sally was brought in, she came up missing. Evidently the back door to the clinic had been left open and she had slipped out. A few days later one of the associates found her outside the front door on the side walk. Sally had come back HOME. She was picked up (growling and spatting as usual) and brought back inside. This happened again several months later, only this time she walked out the back door of the clinic and in the back door of the neighboring retail store. Again one of the associates went to retrieve her. The associate picked her up (no spatting or growling this time) and brought her home again. To everyone's surprise, she began to purr! Sally was purring for the first time since being brought into the veterinarian's care over a year before. Dr. Pam and her associates got so excited over it, that they marked the day on the calendar with the note, Sally's purred today! A lot of TLC had finally paid off. ~ Shari
 
 

BLACK CATS RULE!
Barbara Robertson

My Kitty came from the shelter too.  She was a five year old unspayed female and just a sweet, wonderful cat.  The girl working at the shelter (which was part of a vet's office) was friends with my niece Beth.  The girl really liked Kitty, and kept changing the dates on her papers so they could keep her until someone adopted her.  Knowing my niece Beth lived on a farm, she talked Beth into adopting her.

Unfortunately, Kitty was not a barn cat.  She didn't know how to deal with the other cat, the dog, the horse, or barn life in general.  Apparently, she had always been a house cat.  My sister asked me if I would take this cat.  Without a thought, I said sure.

Okay, here's the weird part:  About a month before, I was lying in bed one night and thinking that I ought to look into getting a cat.  A fluffy one. Black.  With big golden eyes.  Independent, friendly, but not a lap cat.

When we went out to the barn to get the cat, guess what I got?  Yup.  My description down to a "t".  I took her home  and within an hour she was rolling around on the rug like she'd lived there all her life.

If you'd like to see a picture and have a little more info, check out my web site:

http://groups.msn.com/UrsulasTentaclePalace/myblackcatbedroom.msnw

Yep!  Black cats rule!! ~Barbara Robertson

 
 

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MIDNIGHT
Patricia Hoffman

 
 

PRECIOUS
Barbara Reed

I had two other cats but they were "hand-me-downs" from my adult daughters.  One (a seal point Siamese), I loved dearly and so did my daughter but she had gotten married and her new husband was allergic (he didn't complain but his eyes were red and his nose was runny all the time) so we decided that Max would live with me.  The other was a gray tabby.  My older daughter's husband was career military (he is now a full Colonel in the Air Force) and they were being moved to Guam.  This would have required Ebby (Ebenezer until we discovered she should be spayed rather than neutered) to be in quarantine for 6 months.  She is allergic to fleas and wouldn't have lived that long with all the other animals so she came here to live, also.

But I needed a cat of my own.  A friend had a neice who's persian had somehow managed a liason wasn't planned so we have no idea who the father of the kitten's might have been.  Nevertheless, she wanted good homes for them and let me keep the entire litter overnight so I could make my selection.  One (the runt of the litter) was completely and totally black.  He had an unbelievable amount of very long hair and glowing amber eyes.  He also tried to make every step that I did.  I selected him and it is the best decision I ever made.  He needed a special name because of his color and I tried lots -- some were my idea, some were the brain children of my friends, and some were the suggestions of internet acquaintances.  He didn't respond to any of them and I would say:  "Okay, Precious.  We'll try something else."  That's when I noticed that every time I said Precious, his little ears pricked up and he came running to me.&nbs! p; So he named himself.

He was so tiny (even though there were no health problems) that the vet postponed starting his shots until he was a bit older than usual.  Then he started growing and I often said that if I got bored I could sit and watch him grow.  He is 3 years old now and right at 20 pounds.  He isn't fat.  He is BIG.  And that is good.  Two years ago I developed congestive heart failure.  I already had osteoporosis and severe arthritis.  Precious takes care of me.  When I walk down the hall, he stays against my legs to make sure that I don't fall.  He sleeps with me and if my phone by the bed rings and I fail to answer it, he knocks it off the hook and makes noises.

Someone dropped a kitten in my front yard and we brought it in and tried to feed it.  It hadn't been weaned and didn't know how to eat.  It had very little hair and was so dirty you couldn't tell what color it was.  It was covered with fleas and it was bleeding.  I kept it isolated until the vet could check it out.  As soon as it was released into the house with the other animals, Precious adopted her.  Now he is 3 and she is 2, but he still washes her face every day, and comes to tell me when she is in trouble (she is a big jumper and once landed behind the refrigerator).

Don't tell me black cats are bad luck.  He is the luckiest thing that ever happened to me! ~Barbara Reed

 
 
 

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JOSH & MUGSY
Jaime Crowley

 
 

PEPSI
Bo Lyon

I then acquired a black & tan dachshund/terrier, Heidi, that lived for 17 years.  She was so smart & special, and greatly loved by mine & my husbands whole family.  During some of those same years I had 2 red dachshunds (Ginny & Brandy) & raised several litters of pups til they were 12 & 13 years old.

My brother talked me into getting another puppy, because my 2 red dogs were getting up there, and starting to have ailments.  So my youngest daughter, Kristi & I went to town & stopped by a place to look at a female black & tan miniature dachshund.  The only one of a litter of 6.  I feel that was fate, as my heart had always belonged to the black & tan, because of Puppy.

We took her home & I named her "Pepsi", because she was "The New Generation"!  This was the end of November 1993, that she came into our lives.  The next day, we lost Ginny, our 12 year old dachshund, then a month later, Brandy at 13 years old, was found lying dead in her bed by my youngest daughter, Kristi.

Pepsi came none too soon to fill our lives with love, and she was the most special dog anyone could ever ask for.  She was 6 weeks when she came to our home, and was fetching toys at 9 weeks.  She dearly loved Frisbees, and other toys.  Her Frisbee was the favorite, and she loved making tacos out of them, folding them in half & opening & closing her mouth, making gestures at you.  She exceeded any dog we had ever had for intelligence & determination.  Learning numerous tricks & jogging with my husband.

We decided to try & breed Pepsi, so we could keep a female to keep her lineage ongoing.  It took many tries, and we were finally successful, when she was 4-1/2 years old.  That was 3 years ago May 5th, 2001, that she had 5 babies.  3 girls & 2 boys.  We lost one of the little girls at birth.  I kept one female & named her Nikki, and my daughter Kristi kept the other & named her Rodeo.  A year later poor little 9 lb. Pepsi started having seizures, and then 6 months later, she became diabetic, and lost most of her sight 2 months later, in Jan/Feb 2000.

My poor beautiful little Pepsi, had to be given a shot daily, and medicine for her seizures, but we were all dealing with it rather well.  She became accustomed to her little ability to see, and got around really good.  We took her for walks, and she could run thru the house without bumping into anything.  We had cues for her, for up & down, this way & that way, and her being so smart, she adapted.  It had been over a year & a half since she was first diagnosed, but all was fine, and she was healthy.

Then my world came crashing down on June 23rd, 2001.  My daughter was here for festivities of the weekend, a pre-fourth of July celebration that our town does every year.  We were gone for a couple hours, and during that time some how my little 7-1/2 year old diabetic, nearly blind, black & tan dachshund, Pepsi, got out of my fenced yard.  We did not notice at first that she was gone, because the gates were closed, and the other two, Nikki & Rodeo, were here.  We looked everywhere, asked everyone, & had other people looking for her.  People had seen her for the first 2 hours, between 3 & 5 PM, but no one had seen her since.  She was last seen on highway 39, that goes right thru our town of Colstrip, MT.

It has been 2 weeks now, since she disappeared, and after many fliers, ads, radio, internet search, calls to vets in the radius of 120 miles, there is still no Pepsi!  I do believe that someone picked her up along the highway, and did not call the sheriffs office here to see if she belonged to someone.  Unfortunately, her collar was on the counter, cuz it had been bothering her.

My heart is once again broken just as it was when I was in 4th grade.  I stare out the window of my house, the car when ever I travel anywhere, from my bike as I ride down the highway.  Always looking, never knowing.  I cry every time I think of my poor little Pepsi lost out to there,to someone she doesn't know, or even worse, dying from not getting her insulin.  In one brief moment, as my gate was opened by someone that let my dog out in 90 degree weather, in the middle of the afternoon, my life changed once again.  I lost my companion that filled up so much of my life.  Please if you know of anyone who recently acquired a nearly blind black & tan dachshund, let me know.

Just so you know, I do plan to breed Nikki, who I love ever so much, this month when she goes into heat, as I have tried twice before, with no success.  Maybe we will get lucky this time, but that will not fill the emptiness I feel for Pepsi, my special girl, but we will be able keep a part of her ongoing, tho I have no closure on what happened to her.    7/8/01   Bo Lyon   glyon@mcn.net
 
 

I don't remember exactly what year it was, maybe about 12 - 13 years ago, Paddy Cake had another litter and they were now old enough to handle. I picked out a coal-black kitten with big gold eyes, and noted it was a male. "This is a keeper," I told my husband, Verne. "Another cat? Are you sure?"
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We found homes for the other kittens, had Paddy spayed and made a black kitten a part of the family. I named him Midnight - recalling a childhood program that had characters called, "Froggy the Gremlin" and "Midnight the Cat". (My 6-year-old grandson recently asked why I named him Midnight. To simplify it, I just told him because it was the blackest, darkest time of a day and his eyes were like a couple of bright yellow moons. My grandson thought for a moment, then responded, "I suppose if he was yellow, you would have called him Sunny.")
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We had Midnight neutered at seven months and he became my shadow. He was always somewhere near me, but never underfoot. He was a good kitten, never into "kitten" trouble.....except for a couple of times. He LOVED paper towels on a dispenser. We would come home to miles of clawed paper towels on the kitchen floor and Midnight sitting nearby with a satisfied look on his face. The problem was easily solved - we just put the paper towels sitting upright on the counter. It seems we took all the fun out of that. And one Christmas season I had wrapped all the gifts and put them under the tree. We came down one morning before the holiday only to find every gift unwrapped, and again, Midnight with a satisfied look. Needless to say, the gifts didn't go under the tree until Christmas Eve for the next 12 years!
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But he was a gentle, loving cat - loved to be talked to and invariably "answered." When outside at the farm, he would go strolling by Verne, give him a meow (hello) and kept on going. He always came when he was called, no matter how far away he was - unless he was stalking prey. He was the best gopher hunter. No mice for him - he was a "big game hunter". He dragged the gophers into the farm yard to share with the farm kittens.
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If I was upset, blue or not feeling well, he would come and lay alongside me, purring his heart out. It always helped! Every night after I crawled into bed, he would come and lay on top of me for some "loving." He would stay for ten minutes or so, then he was satisfied and would settle down in his own bed for the night.
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In a way, he was what the kids call a "whoos". He was afraid of strangers and would hide as long as they were around. He also was a lover, not a fighter. Stray toms would come into the farm yard during mating season and quite often I would find my 18 pound black cat at the very top of a tree on a not-too-strong limb, swaying in the breeze. I would come out with the broom, chase the stray cat away, coax Midnight to come down, and he would come eventually, but only if I stood by with the broom in hand in case the intruder returned. It was really a funny sight to see
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The only demands he ever made were for food (and he had a healthy appetite) and he was a moocher, particularly for ham and bacon, and a clean litterbox. He would stand by me as I cleaned it so he could be the first one to jump in and use it. I always thought I should have a larger box for him, because it was all he could do to turn around a few times and still hit the inside of the box.
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About nine years ago, we took in another "waif" and Midnight took over her care. He would keep "tabs" on her (Cuddles) when they were outside. One time we couldn't find Cuddles, so we told Midnight to go find her. Before long, here he comes up the driveway, pushing Cuddle along with his nose on her butt end. Cuddles would go to him for a lick on the head or a nose nuzzle. Pals forever.
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Midnight was a big, healthy, robust cat. But about 8 months ago he became ill. We took him to the vet and found he was diabetic. Okay - we will give him his daily shots - anything to keep my pal, my best buddy, around. He wasn't as peppy as he used to be, but he was much better. Then this past week, prior to Valentines Day, we noticed he was "going downhill" again. Off to the vet on a Sunday afternoon (held back one day by a snowstorm!) Rather than put him in the carrier, I put him on the seat between Verne and myself, petting him and "cooing" to him the whole 50 miles. Maybe I really knew then how bad it really was.
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The vet said possible renal failure, but he would do some tests to be sure, and put him on IVs. Then on Tuesday, February 17th came the dreaded call. Verne came to where I work and told me it wasn't good news and that I should come home early for lunch and give Dr. Pierce a call. "It's your decision - Midnight is your baby." I dragged myself home from work and called the vet. Dr. Pierce informed me that Midnight was now semi-comatose. I knew what I had to tell him, but the words wouldn't come out, even between the sobs. I handed the phone to Verne and he told him to let Midnight go. No more pain and suffering for my best friend!.
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Midnight was mercifully put to sleep. I wanted to be there to hold him, but I knew I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to let him go - I would have stopped the doctor. He will be cremated and his ashes will be put under the cool trees  at the farm - his favorite place during the hot summer months. When I go to the farm now, I'll know he'll be there waiting for me.
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Goodbye, my Midnight......

On Thursday morning the vet called to tell us Midnight's ashes were ready. He also told me that from the time he left Midnight to answer my call on Tuesday, and went back to care for him, he had slept away. That took away the guilt and the "what-ifs", but not the broken heart.
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We still have Paddy, about 15+ years old, and Cuddles, about 10+, but their health is not the best either. Paddy is beginning to have petit mal seizures and occasional breathing problems (probably allergies) and Cuddles has a tendency towards urinary tract infections. It will be hard to let them go too, when the time comes. They were all our "kids" and they all came running to the door when we came home. I just hope it won't be for a very long time. We're not ready to say goodbye yet. But then, are we ever?
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kateannie1@webtv.net
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Sincerely, Becky J. - Sandusky, Ohio   - e-mail to:   WaistinTime@email.msn.com
..

Last year I was going through a divorce after being married 13 years and a stay at home mom for 6 of those
years. It took guts but the 3 kids and I moved out and started over. Since my job skills were rusty and I had never used
my degree, I decided to learn to groom animals (dogs mainly). A good friend of mine had just had a litter of pups and she
decided that I would be the perfect owner for her runt female! Well, I made payments on Zelda, an apricot standard poodle pup,and started to learn to clip & cut on my own victim,lol.
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I went to work in a shop as a bather to start and was taking a course by mail to get a certificate to groom. I also went to
the shelter for new *volunteers*.  Everywhere I would take Zelda, people would comment about how pretty she
was, which I loved since I was learning, but SOME always had something smart to say about poodles! This would make
me mad since I knew what a wonderful creature she was at heart and that she wasn't just a fluffball but a little lioness at
heart (she had surprised me one night by having a fit when an acquintance that had had a few beers came by the
house,she growled and snarled and wouldnt let him in!)  Well,to make a long story short, last week she proved she was a
hero in my eyes.
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We got out of the car at the grooming shop like we ususally do, but this time a 100 pound Rottweiler mix was waiting
for us. I yelled for my boss to open the door and started pushing my furbaby in front of me up the back stairs. I got her in
the shop and was so mad I took off my shoe and started to throw it at the brute!  He came at me growling and I retreated
with a scream, Zelda broke away from my boss who was putting her in the cage and run to her *moms* rescue! My 43
pound apricot angel jumped the big dog! Thank goodness she had her leash on because I grabbed it and ran with her in
the shop! The only thing that saved my girl was she was female and still in heat,the rott looked at her like*OH BABY* till
she came at him teeth bared and THAT scared him! THANK GOODNESS! So when people say poodles are pretty pieces of
fluff, Im going to laugh from now on. Beneath the chest of my standard poodle beats the heart of a lioness!   Nough
said?  lol

Have a great day ~Anna Smith and Zelda

He is the best cat we have ever had and my husband loves him.   He sleeps with us and knows his name.  He was abused previously and we just spent $800.00 to have his hip repaired where someone kicked him. He is playful and loving.

P.S.: You're right about the big eyes! ~Mermaidal@webtv.net

Hello, I came across your page & deeply enjoy it.  I am owned by 3 black cats, 2 boys & 1 girl.  My boys were adopted from the local humane society and Brandy Girl was part of a litter that I found in my back yard.  Her mother  died protecting them from a dog.

I fully agree that black cats have something "special".  I've had cats my whole life (40's within sight) and none of my others bonded quite so closely with me.

Thank you for taking the time to process the beary patch site.  It has provided much pleasure to me.  God Bless.  ~Annmarie Kaspy

In 1994 I had just moved to a new town & apt. and had a new job in the mall there. I was in search of a new kitten and checked out the mall petshop. I was looking for a Russian Blue or silky grey cat like ones I previously had & lost. The pet store didn't have any, but as I was looking around, a pair of almost irridescent green eyes caught my attention. The cat was black & bigger than I had in mind, but as I approached the cage, beautiful green eyes looked up at me. As I put my fingers through the cage to pet this black beauty, she leaned towards my fingers allowing me to pet her & started purring. I felt the connection instantly & knew she had picked me.

As I soon found out, she was female, eight months old, & had just been spayed the day before. I had to wait a few days to take her home, but since I worked in the same mall, I went to visit her everyday. I rubbed her & talked to her & reassured her that she would soon have a good home. I named her Kiki and she has been with me ever since. One week later the pet store notified me that they had a long haired grey 3-4 month old kitten that I also adopted. Kiki & Tommy have been like brother & sister ever since. Both with these incredible green eyes, that look right through you. Kiki has an amazingly calm & loving personality. She demands nothing & is always there with her unconditional love. She adores me & wants nothing out of life but to be fed & be by my side. She is deep black with reddish tones in the light. She is 7 yrs. old now & still as playful as a kitten at times. Tommy is 6 and also gentle & loving. He's independent by nature, but very loving & spoiled.

One year after Kiki & Tommy were adopted I got Max. He's a long haired Tuxedo cat with the same green eyes. Max was just six weeks old then, now 6 yrs. He is the pesky, playful addition & is demanding of attention from everyone. I love them all dearly & am fortunate that they chose me to adopt. Black cats are very loving & gentle creatures with so much to give. Kiki has been my lucky charm. Thanks for promoting the adoption of black cats. ~Sincerely, BJ
 
 

Hi, we too are great "fans" of black cats.  Our current reigning queen is a little black girl named Spooky Jo.  She exhibited, from early kittenhood, the stance of the classic Halloween black cat, which is supposed to be "spooky", hence the name.  She was one of four kittens born to a feral cat who came with this house when we bought it.  Our second-door down neighbors collected cats.  They had some house cats and some just feral cats.  One of their "house ferals" was a yellow striped tabby they called Tiger.  Tiger had some kittens which they kept in their garage.  There were two tailless kittens and both were just darling.  We were over stocked on cats at the time (when are we not?) but I wanted the little beige and white male.  Well, we took him but he is another story.  Anyway there were two feral cats who came to our door wanting food.  Of course we obliged them.  We figured that they were sisters to Tiger and named one of them Aunt Ugly and the other Aunt Raunchy.  The aunt being aunt to our Bobby (the bob-tail kitten.)  These cats were unaltered and were forever having kittens that they kept "someplace".  When these cat-delinquents moved they left these two cats here and a few others.  We sort of looked after them and kept dry food and water out for them.  They got to be a little approachable.  Aunt Ugly (a tortoise-shell cat) would try to maim me whenever I tried to pet her.  Aunt Raunchy (a brindle, semi-long haired cat) was more receptive to affection, but not much.  When we realized that these "ladies" were expecting, we kept a close watch on them and found the kittens of each one (under some shrubs next door).  Aunt Raunchy was moving her kittens all over so Hoy (my husband) couldn't stand it.  He said the kittens were going to die.  When she finally moved them into our back yard, he rescued two of them.  She carried off the other two.

One kitten was Spooky Jo.  I told Hoy that we didn't need another black cat since we already had two black boys.  Then I said that this was going to be my kitty and I would call it Spooky (not knowing her gender at the time). The other rescue was a gray and white male.  Both had sort of fluffy fur and semi-fluffy tails.  We had to bottle feed these kittens and "potty" them since they were too young to "go on their own".  They were both the sweetest most loving kitties I have ever seen.  I have Spooky Jo sitting on my lap as I attempt to type this.  She is so sweet and affectionate it is unreal.  She jumps on my shoulders and rides there.  She can read Hoy's mind and knows when he is "going to the bathroom" and beats him into the one he prefers.  She always goes with him.  She will lay on us and "make-biscuits" (she had to be declawed) for hours,  purring like a Rolls-Royce motor.  We love her so much.  We now have her mother and one of her brothers in the house.    A friend wanted a kitten and took her Gray and white brother who was also incredibly sweet.  The kittens who stayed outside with Aunt Raunchy grew bigger and more beautiful and wilder.  She would come and eat and the kittens would follow her but not come close until we left the scene.  Finally the wilder of the kittens disappeared but the red-gold kitten got a little friendlier.  Aunt Raunchy was wanting affection ny now and we would pet her and pick her up.  We were finally able to bring the kitten in out of the cold.  I called him Butterscotch and ButterBoy.  He and Spooky dislike each other intensely and We brought Aunt Raunchy in and they both hate their mother.  It is mutual.  Butterscotch is finally "ButtHead".  Partly because I always wanted a cat named that and partly descriptive - he loves to butt heads with me and love my face.  These cats are soon 4 years old and we can't imagine life without them.

Someday I will tell you about my other black cats.  I reckon that you can tell that we love all cats.  We do.  We are old, retired, decrepit people and a great part of our income goes for cat food, kitty litter and vet bills.  Our veterinarian feels sorry for us and comes to the house to give the annual immunizations.  We also have two dogs.  A miniature Poodle and a Pug..  I am ashamed to tell you how many cats we have in the house.  Hoy also has 6 feral kittens and their mama cat in the garage.  We have a two car garage and cannot even get one of our vehicles in it. I enjoyed your narrative about your black baby.  Keep it up.  I have bookmarked this site. ~Thank you. Gayle Holshouser, North Richland Hills (Fort Worth), Texas

My story begins when I was five years old. I was raised on a 480 acre dairy farm with my parents and two older sisters. Having the farm, we had plenty of room for dogs, cats or whatever came our way. Every cat or dog that I ever had was always a stray, but that didn't matter to me, I loved them all the same. I would dress my kittens up in my old baby clothes, and stroll them in my baby doll stroller. They loved every minute of it. There would be times when my Dad wouldn't get in until really late, so he decided we needed a watch dog. He bought us a doberman pincher, she was just a baby and we went crazy over her. We named her Nicole, but called her Nicki for short. She was so playful, and full of love, but in order for her to live up to the doberman name, we had to teach her to be a watch dog, and that's exactly what she was.

My Dad once won $200 off of a man that thought he could pet her without her even much as growling. Boy was he wrong!!!! She alerted us anytime we had company, or if there was a bump in the night. Whenever we had company, she would have to be put away, or chained up which she hated, and so did I. Both of my sisters had moved out of our home, so it was just my parents, and I. Nicki and I had always been close, but this brought us closer. It may sound crazy, but she was like my best friend. As I was going through my teenage years, and having my ups and downs, she would lay right beside me when I was crying or watch me every morning as I got ready for school. When I would come home from school, she would be there waiting as well.

When I was seventeen, my father passed away. Nicki grieved just as much as we did, I truely believe she understood what was going on. My mother had to go back to work, and I had to work and put myself through college, which meant that Nicki would be at home alot by herself. She became very lonely, and in the morning would sit by my door waiting for me to get up. She would whine and moan trying to wake me up; my mom says that at times it almost sounding like Nicki would say my name while she was whining. She just loved us, and we loved her; She was our family. I never left the house without giving her a hug, and telling her that I loved her. Nicki became sick when I was about 20 or 21. She had cancer, and it was taking a toll on her. She would cry at night, and it would break my heart. One day when I came home from college, she was waiting at the door for me, but something was different. She had a mild stroke, and couldn't move, it must have happened while she was waiting for me. We took her to the vet, and she regained a little strength. After a few weeks, it was just too hard on her, and we had to put her to sleep. I couldn't be there when they did it, so I left for the day. I came home, and I remember seeing my mom crying. I just sat on the hearth of the fireplace, and cried my eyes out,(kinda like I'm doing right now)! I didn't think that I would ever be able to own another animal in fear of loseing it. But, a few years later, I got a black lab, and a calico cat at the same time. They were both babies, and they loved each other like brother and sister.

I'm now 24 and I just recently got married. I couldn't bring the animals with me, so a sweet little boy got the lab, and my mom kept my cat or should I say cats, because she is on her fourth litter. We seem to find homes for the kittens, but I think she has had enough for her lifetime. Anyway, I just love and adore animals, and I hope you enjoyed my story. ~Jeri Ann Harper ~ jjharper99@yahoo.com

I read your story regarding your black cat adoption with recognition as well as teary eyes. Years ago, my husband brought home from the local pound, 2 days before Christmas, in 1984, my little FatRat.He had gone to the local animal shelter to check out any animals to bring home (not the first time he has done this!) This time, a Christmas kitty for me. I had always told him, "Get one from the animal shelter if you do, save a life!" Well, he went looking again.

His story goes like this: "I went there and saw no kittens at all. They took me further in the back where the "quarantined" animals were, that could be picked up for adoption at a later date, providing they passed the quarantine ordeal. There was this little ball of all white fur, crying his head off! He spotted me and really started wailing! I said to myself "That's my baby's kitty!" Since they would not let me adopt the kitty then, I talked to the guard outside. After some money was exchanged, the guard placed the little ball of fur inside his coat, proceeded out the door, and met me outside. I took the kitty home for Christmas."

Now, my side. I was awoke to something tickling my nose ( I had fallen asleep and was in the middle of a mid-afternoon nap). I opened my eyes, and there he was! This tiny little bundle of all white, pink ears, and light green eyed creature yelling his head off! It was love at first sight!! My husband knew that I would love this kitty and somehow knew that he was destined to be with me.

Fifteen years have since past. It is now December 1999, and FatRat just had his 15th birthday. He is getting up there in age, but not his mom, mind you!! The days of FatRat running terror through the house are getting fewer, mostly he sleeps or just wants up on the lap. However, he still wins any argument of what he wants and now!!! I have long resolved myself to the fact that I am here to serve him and his bidding! LOL!!!! It is a job that only requires a lot of love and hugs and kisses!

A year ago, last November, he came down with a strange ailment, that has cost me many days and nights of stress. He started to scratch and bite himself violently. The vets could not help much, as we had to sedate him merely to get a shot to check out his blood. Nothing came back abnormal for a cat of his age.I have pretty much gone through all the local vets to find the problem. Most won't touch him as he is pretty feisty to all but me. He hates to travel so just getting to the vet was traumatic! They could not handle him! I was frantic. Then I heard of a local vet through a neighbor. He did a house call without charging me an arm and a leg. It was because he truly cares for animals and also lived close by.After months of attempts to try a special and very expensive strict diet on prescribed canned food, (That didn't' work!) Then we tried cortisone shots, lotions, sprays, etc. all to get him to stop scratching and biting...nothing worked. (Oh yes, I scrubbed the entire place down, attempting to find out whatever he had developed an allergy to...stopped wearing perfume, hair spray, certain detergents, soaps, you name it, I tried it!!! All in vain!!)

Finally, with a deep sigh, my vet questioned me on any new changes, ie: change in times returning, anyone new around the house, etc.etc.etc...yes, I had changed jobs and shifts, but what could I do? I needed to work to support a fat cat!!! (Not to mention myself!) He told me that we probably needed to put FatRat on anti-depressants!! WHAT!!?? Are you saying my kitty is depressed?!?! Stressed, he said. It is common for all white cats, perhaps in the cross-breeding. (Hey wait a minute, FatRat is no Persian or anything fancy...fancy to me but still, not a long hair or expensive ball of fur!) He still insisted that it was the breeding. Happens often, and often doesn't show up until they get older. This was what was to happen to my kitty? The kitty that for years and years was the most ornery, spoiled, feisty, fight with anyone that came near him that he decided was not going to bother him. This kitty that would make my date (yes the divorce was final years ago..LOL) call for the Red Cross (or me) when I warned them not to play with the kitty! Is this the end result for one that has given me years of joy and companionship, now reduced to a daily regiment of pills?? It is another constant battle of stress to get them down him as well. I found out from the vet, when he salivates at the mouth when I attempt to give him a pill, this is caused from stress!!

A week ago, I could not bear to see FatRat's face and little cry, when I approached with the dreaded pill. I stopped giving him the pill for a couple of days...My little playful ball of fur started returning to his former self. Playing...something he always did before the "pill". However, I had to relent, as I could not bear to see him scratch and bite himself constantly again. It seems I don't have a choice.

I wrote this story for two reasons. To let others know of the years of joy that a cat or dog that is adopted from the local pound can bring. The rewards are endless! Also, to know that you will save a life! I shudder to think that they would have put my poor FatRat to sleep if my ex had not rescued him!!! The second reason, perhaps someone that has had the same problem and found another solution can enlighten me as to another way to get FatRat well, other than the daily intake of a anti-depressant pill.

Thank you for having this site for all of us that love animals!! ~FatRat's Mom ~ DTUSNAVY@webtv.net ,
 
 

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