HONESTLY, the idea of taking stray cats into my lovely new home and never occurred to me.The last cat I had had, Tiber, a beautiful big multi-striped male, had died in 1985 at the tragically young age of about two, form feline Leukemia, which back then was a relatively new feline disease for which there was no treatment. Tiber, my love, withered away gradually and painfully, refusing to eat, while a friend of mine, also now dead, and I did everything we could to get him to eat,including giving him the tastiest, meatiest snacks from our dinner tables. Tiber refused everything. /the vet said he would try, but that there was little hope; there were too many unknowns. Tiber died in my bed, wanting, as always, to be near me. I was distraught, My roommate mercifully buried him for me, and I look forward to seeing my baby again., in heaven. for the next twenty seven years I had no cats. I adopted a beautiful German Shepherd, Wolfgang, a black and silver, who made Rin Tin Tin look like a runt. he lived for ten and a half years, until hip dysplasia ended his mobility, his joy, an his life.We were inseparable. We still are, and always will be. Wolfie lived from 1992 to 2002, a much much too brief life.If not quantity, we had quality. from 2002 to 2012 I was pet free, amazingly. It is not good to be without animals friends. I had built and moved into a new home in 2005, and, madly in love with it, determined to keep it clean as a hospital. The thought of renewing my relationship with either cats or dogs did not occur to me. They had other ideas. In late September, 2012, five years into mortgage payments, I came home from work one day and notice a tiny grey kitten with blazing green eyes sitting in my front year, near my front porch, staring at me with fear and anger blazing out of these eyes like fire. I did nothing. Didn't miss a step, walked on past her, into the house. The next day, there she was again, only a feet closer.This wet on for a week, during which she insinuated herself into my heart and soul without my being aware of it, After a week of this game, I lost patience.I made myself a big, sloppy, juicy , tunas sandwich, and took it t other front porch, and and sat down in a lawn hair. She screamed, and within a split second was on my lap. I gave her a bit of tuna. She seemed satisfied, and jumped down. I liked that. I was hooked. Mandi still lives with me today, is perhaps we've years old, and we have a love-love relationship, made verdant by her insistence on controlling me, and my feeble resistance. About two weeks after Mandi gained entrance into my lovely pristine home, a tiny yellow tabby male, who had evidently been paying attention and saw an opening, started making himself visible. I was once again a bit hard to get: I wanted Mandi to have a chance to settle in before taking on any more kittens. But Jake had other ideals. Seeing Mandi coming and going from m house like she owned the place (by now she did), Jake(named after a John Grisham character) knew I would soon be his. He was even more aggressive than Mandi. He actually dug a hole in the window screen of my bedroom window, which cause him to limp for a few days. I was soon his. I now had two kittens. Then came Shylow, a beautiful stereotypical Siamese male. He and Jake had been snuggling together in the cold October nights, in my yard. the night he stood n y driveway and screamed relentlessly, he became mine. Thus I cane to be the happy if unplanned daddy of three gorgeous kittens, who were growing fast, snuggling with me in bed, replacing the children I never had.... (to be continued).
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