CattyKisms 106


Contrary to popular belief, white cats with blue eyes aren’t anymore susceptible to being deaf than any other colored cat.  I have raised almost a hundred white kittens with blue eyes, so far, none of them have been deaf.  Once they hear the electric can opener, they come running.


When its cold outside, remember your pets.


Contrary to popular belief, cats are not lactose tolerant.


Most cats like to sleep 12 to 16 hours per day.


Like a human’s thumb print, every cat’s nose has it’s own “nose print.”



Cats, like the camel and the giraffe are the only animals to walk with both feet moving on the same side, at all times. It’s either both right feet moving or both left feet.


When cats “knead” with their front paws, it is a sign of contentment.



While most cats dislike water, they can swim.


The most popular cat breed in America?  The Rag Doll.







Cattykisms 105

Cuddle Bug knows I’m busy trying to do something but no, she’s not with that at all.  My feet, she’s killing me, ouch.  I believe she thinks my feet are long lost “cousins” or a something.  No, not from the smell.

When my grand daughter “Claire Bear” was near three years old, she asked Grandpa for a kitten.  She was so cute, always funny, always wanting to act like she was grown up.  How could I say no?  A few days later, I drove from Jacksonville to Moultrie, Ga. to pick up my youngest son Duane.  He had been visiting friends.  While I was there, I noticed that their cat, a Himalayan, had a litter of kittens.  I asked if I could have one, I was pleasantly surprised that they were going to just give me one.

That’s the way Georgia people are.  If they like you and think of you as a friend, they’ll give you the shirt off of their back.  I didn’t want to insult them, so I gave them $100 bill to them for my son’s board.  That seem to even things out some.

Kozmo was like no other cat or kitten that I had ever been around.  He would follow her from room to room. If she put him in a baby stroller, he stayed right where she put him, until she was ready to mover him somewhere else.  If he wanted something, he wouldn’t hesitate to ask.  I can’t explain it, but he could warble his voice, making me that I could understand him.


The Fire Department is right across the street from my house.  They leave food out for the cats, every night.  Our neighborhood is a haven for feral cats.  One day a beautiful adult female Siamese started appearing at my front door.  Especially when I was feeding the rest of the cats.  Oh, I couldn’t touch her, she would move just out of hands reach.

“Baby’s Mama drama” stuff, the next time I get to see Claire bear, Kozmo is a grown beautiful Himalayan adult male.  Proud as a peacock.  Friendly, docile, playful everything you could ask for but he wasn’t a kitten anymore.  She said, “But Grandpa, I want a kitten.”


As luck would have it, my neighbor knocked on my door and said, “Your cat had kittens in my shed.”  After checking it out, there was the female Siamese with 6, five week old kittens.  I brought them home with me, she wouldn’t get nearer than five feet to me.  I put her litter on the porch.  Claire had 6 new kittens to play with.


Then she was visiting almost every day.  Next thing you know, she’s living with her Daddy, next door.  I get to enjoy her company and watch her play with the kittens.  I kept four of the kittens.  One male and 3 females.  Did you know that everyone of them had either a bob tail or no tail, which made them unique.  I sold the other two on Craigslist for 50 bucks.  It took about 1 hour.


Claire would play house with them, serve them tea, walk them in the stroller, change their diapers.  From my side of it, it was all worth the trouble.  I didn’t have the income to lavish her with gifts but I did try to provide her with the things I thought she liked the most, kittens.


More “Baby’s Mama drama,” now we don’t get to see Claire Bear any more, at all.  Her Mom has remarried and doesn’t want her daughter to know anything about her Daddy’s family.

Claire’s mama’s grandmother lives next door.   One day Claire snuck over during a visit and told us, that she wasn’t allowed to talk to us but she loved us and would run away from home, just as soon as she turns 16.


The four kittens? Shorty, Bunny Mae, Kozmic and Bunny Boo Boo.  They started having babies of their own.  Just in case Claire showed up at Grandpa’s house again, I wanted to make sure she had a kitten she could play with.  I soon got Pepsi, a Lynx Point rag doll from a friend, then she had Daisy and Yoda.

That has been many years gone by.  No sign of Claire, yet.  I keep her a litter of kittens to play with, just in case one day she shows up.  When they get 8 weeks of age, I put them on Craigslist, then it was Hoobly, and then Facebook.  Gradually, I went up 50 dollars every litter.  Now I have a waiting list for kittens.

I went looking for Kozmo one day.  I asked a lady EMT Technician from the Fire Dept. if she had seen my cat.  She told me in confidence that she saw two firemen throw a blanket over him and toss him into the trunk of a car.  This was a week or so after the fact, she didn’t want me to use her as a witness.  I sucked it up, I still had Shorty.


Shorty picked up the slack, I used the money I made off of the litters to build a “Kitty Heaven,” on the rear of the house.  Eventually I built the Kitty palace on the front.  I keep two males now, always one for back up.  Shorty was shot with an arrow.  The night before I had seen two of the firemen practicing with a bow.  I took him to the Vet, he was tough he made it.  A year or two later, he was napping under the car when some one released the brake and the car rolled over on top of him.

Oh he was tough though.  He survived for another year, how, I don’t know.  Now I have Yoda and Pretty Boy.  Yoda is a Himalayan and Pretty Boy is a doll face Persian.  It is mandatory that I keep them apart, or it’s a fight to the death, usually mine, when I try to break it up.  Now, I am sorta semi-famous on Facebook for breeding Rag Doll kittens.  Customers come from all over the United States to get them.  One buyer was from Bangkok, Thailand, he bought two solid white kittens with blue eyes.

Now my kitty customers are my Facebook friends, we have our own Kitty Culture.  My friends share pictures of their kittens with me.  My extended family.  Now, instead of just Claire Bear, my kittens bring joy to little girls (and grown up ones too), all over the United States.




Claire should be 12 this year, I miss her.  Maybe she’ll surprise us and just show up.  “Hear that Cuddle Bug?  Are you still playing with my socks?”






CattyKisms 104

Animal stories are real heartwarmers.  Some make you laugh and some will make you want to cry.

Years before I ever dreamed of wanting to be a cat breeder, my wife Bonnie mentioned to me at breakfast how she would like to have a little kitten.  I thought that her wish was a little unusual.  We had never had a cat or kitten before that I could remember.  Still, I filed her request in the back of my mind for future reference.

Providence?  I don’t know for sure, but as luck would have it, later that day I was getting gas at the Racetrack Gas Station.  I was standing in line to pay for my gas, when the clerk asked me would there be anything else?  I thought about it for about a half a second and said to myself, “I bet Bonnie would like a candy bar.”  So, I asked the clerk to wait a second and I went to the candy shelves and almost got her a “3 Musketeers,” her favorite.  Before I grabbed one, I had second thoughts.  What if she doesn’t want a candy bar?  Maybe, I’d better get her a Snickers, because I like Snickers and if she didn’t want one, I’d eat it, better get the kind that I like, just in case.

As I reached my hand under the second shelf to grab a Snickers, a little multi colored paw reached out and swatted my hand away.  Wait a minute, I thought.  There isn’t supposed to be any critters in the store.  I made another grab for the candy bar and just like before, a brown and white paw reached out to swat me.  This time I was ready and reached way into the back and grabbed a ball of fur, that came out spitting and sputtering.  Low and behold, it was a kitten.  A calico kitten.  Just what the doctor ordered.

Knowing that the kitten didn’t belong on the candy shelf and half hoping that it was abandoned, I asked the girl behind the register if the kitten was hers or if she knew anything about it.  She replied no, when I asked if I could have it, she told me, “yeah sure, it don’t belong here.”

I unbuttoned the front of my shirt and stuck the cute little critter in there, pumped my gas and went home to show Bonnie her surprise and surprised she was.  “Where did you get that?’  I had a tough time selling her on the fact that I found her on the candy shelf at the Racetrack, but since there wasn’t any other logical explanation, I think she finally believed me.

The kitten was very small.  She must have been the runt.  Most people have an affection for runts.  This was the cutest little calico that you ever saw.  She was minus a tail, which just made her that much cuter.  Because of the missing tail, we named her “Bobbi.”  It seemed to fit and she took right to it.

Bobbi was a playful little spitfire and seemed happy to have a home.  We bought her toys, kitty foods of all sorts, a kitty bed and a litter box.  I don’t know is she didn’t like the Dollar Store brand of kitty litter or not, she seemed to have a will of her own, she wouldn’t use it.  Instead she always went to the door and scratched, then waited for someone to open it.

As Bobbi got older she seemed to like to go outside more and more.  After a long while, we noticed the back of her neck had been chewed upon.  It wasn’t long after that, we noticed that she was pregnant.  Little Bobbi was gonna be a mommy.

She started spending more time indoors, occasionally using the litter box, but most times she would be pawing at the door to go out.  Even after her litter was born, four cute little rascals, she preferred the great outdoors, rather than the safe confines of being indoors.

She didn’t come back in one night.  I usually heard her scratching to get back in to take care of her kittens, but not that night.  The next morning, I opened the door to go look for her and there she was, a crumpled heap at the foot of the steps leading into the house.

I spoke pleasantly to her, “There you are, you naughty girl, where have you been?’  She didn’t respond and I heard a strange meow coming from her and knew immediately that something was wrong.  I went down the steps to grab her and I could tell by the way that she was curled up, that something was wrong.  She tried to move, the front legs were working but the back legs just dragged behind her.  Her hind legs were useless. My immediate thoughts were that a dog had caught up with her and messed her up.  She was so tiny, that it was hard for me to imagine her surviving any kind of attack from a dog.

This was our first cat and she had a new litter inside the house that was about 4 weeks old.  I scooped her up and took her to the nearest Vet. After examining, her the Vet said that she was paralyzed permanently.  This was a shock, she was still nursing, how could this be happening?

I asked the Vet if he could tell if it was a dog that attacked her and he told me no.  He said that from the bite marks on her back, it looked like a big male cat had grabbed a hold of her trying to force her to mate and had snapped her spine.  I told him about her litter of kittens and asked if she could still nurse, would she live, could she be helped in anyway?  All of the questions, that run through your mind when you hear such terrible news.

He told me that he thought that she could still nurse.  He didn’t know how much longer she would live.  He didn’t think that she could control her bowels and that I might have to clean up after her.  I told him he didn’t know Bobbi, that she had a strong will to survive, stronger than anything I’ve seen lately.  I told him of my youngest brother that was crippled from birth.  He always found a way to surprise you and made it in spite of what people thought.

Bobbi was like that too.  She faithfully nursed her babies.  I did have to clean up her poop, but she tended to her youngins.  She started walking around the house on her front legs, not dragging her body, but balancing her self on her front paws, poop would be hanging out of her rear end sometimes, while I reached for a wash cloth to clean her up.

This went on for about two more weeks.  Bobbi walking every where she wanted to go on her front paws.  It reminded me of someone trying to walk on a pair of stilts.  The Vet had warned me that her body functions would shut down because of her paralysis, she didn’t have a chance for longevity.  I kept half hoping that he was wrong.  I didn’t want her to suffer, but because I had grown to love her, I didn’t care about the extra trouble, I would take care of her as long as she lived.

One day after her kittens were weaned, she paraded to the front door on her front legs and waited for me to open it.  I did, not knowing if I was doing the right thing or not, this is what she wanted and she always got her way.  I watched her walk down the steps on her front paws.  Thinking that some sunshine would do her some good, I left her alone.  Looking for her a few minutes later, she was gone.  She had just disappeared.  I called for her until I was blue in the face but with no luck.  Bobbi was gone.  I looked and looked for her, to no avail.  I combed the neighborhood, calling her name.  I quit looking for her, thinking that this is how she wanted it.  She had nursed her babies and had held on as long  as she could.  I firmly believed that she just wanted to crawl off into the woods and let nature take its course.

Looking back now, I wish that I had done things different.  I can’t tell you how many times I wish that I could kick myself in the butt.  I never saw her again.  Bobbi was tough, tough as they come for a “little bit.”  When I think I have it tough  or that hard times are getting the best of me, I think about Bobbi, poor girl, she never gave up.

I don’t eat candy bars anymore, but when I see a Snickers commercial on TV, I think of Bobbi.


Cattykisms 102

My kittens must have known just how tired I was.  I got to sleep ’til 6:30 this morning.  All of the festivity yesterday must have wore me out.  Yesterday was the first time I’ve had anything to drink in almost 30 years.  The last time, you might ask, well let’s see…………………

“Pedro is coming”

My brother Gary and I had been traveling together selling tools for many a year.  Being Military brats, I guess traveling was in our blood.  We had worked Texas, Arizona and Southern California often, many times I guess but we had never taken the time to go to Mexico as “touristas”.

One winter we were working in El Paso, Texas, a large city but down in the dumps economically speaking. It seems like the main source of income was begging, (no kidding).  At every intersection, on all four corners, were people holding up signs “will work for food” or “Please help, need cash”.

Usually we could sell a load of tools at will, we were good at it.  We acted like dumb butt truck drivers from the hills in South Carolina (Carolina Tool).  It worked pretty good, I guess ’cause we didn’t need much help acting like dumb butts.  We would tell people that asked too many questions “Don’t ask me, I just drive a truck”.

Our whole crew (about 25 men) were working El Paso with us.  We stayed at the Congress Motel, I think because it also had a lounge and allowed dogs, (we had a couple of dogs working on the crew).

Since we were little kids I had always made an attempt to speak Spanish.  We lived in Cuba and I was stationed in Puerto Rico and had lived in San Antonio, rather than duck the language barrier I embraced it.  Well, this weapon in my repertoire paid off in El Paso.  We worked that town for two weeks and the only ones to sell any equipment was me and Gary.  We worked the “barrio” with delight.  It was crowded, music blaring, all kinda of colors, people pushing and shoving.  I remember one guy asking me “Who taught you to speak Spanish?  I’d cut his throat.” I told him ” I learned it in “prison, now chew on that.”


The “barrio” is a neighborhood strip across from Jaurez and the Rio Grande, like a buffer between American El Paso and Mexican Jaurez.  El Paso is a big town with about 1 million people.  Jaurez while no metropolis, has two million people, mostly slums and more slums crowded together and sprawled out across the Rio Grande Valley and sloping mountain sides.  At first we were timid to say the least, about being fairheaded gringos working the barrio but it paid off, we sold two loads a day, always got paid cash.  Twice what any one else did while we were there.

In a festive mood Gary and I decided to drop our drawers, let our hair down and take our life in our hands and just go across the border for some fun and excitement.  We left our truck in Los Estados Unidos and walked across the Customs check point promising to return by the end of the day.  We tried to see it all.  American money  (US dollars)  buys a lot more in Mexico, than pesos will.  Leather goods like Tony Lamas boots cost less than a hundred bucks, versus 3 to 4 hundred here.  Tattoo parlors every where, crowded street and street vendors, chicken fights in every ally and muchos putas por barrato, todas ahora.  To say that their streets are crowded is a play upon words.  Street lights didn’t exist, it was the guy with the loudest horn that had the right of way.

Gary and I decided we wanted a cold beer (cerveza fria) and tried to find a cantina that didn’t look like it was about to be condemned.  We gave up on that and found a place that looked like an old style western bar that you always saw on TV westerns.  The sign above the door said “Cantina de Royale”.  It even had the swinging “bat wing” styled doors that guarded the door way, like gargoyles.

Next to the entrance was a guy without any legs, sitting on a skateboard, with a tin cup, looking for handouts.  I think we gave him a dollar apiece, to which he replied “Gracias amigos” and grinned at us, when he did the sun flashing off of his gold teeth almost blinded us.  I think almost every one we met that day had either gold or silver teeth.

The first thing that caught my eye when we entered the bar was the one bladed ceiling fan, tilted to an angle, turning slowly like a ticking clock, it was surrounded by sticky fly tape, hanging from the ceiling.  This place was crowded, every one drinking and having a good time.  “Selena” was blaring from the juke box, every body cried when she sang and loved her music.  Guys would stand around and cry “Selena” hold their drinks to the sky and drink a toast.  Seems like she had just been killed not long before and everyone was still shocked by her passing.

This place wouldn’t pass any health inspections stateside, but the filth didn’t seem to hamper any one’s drinking.  There was one guy hustling drinks, he had a mouthful of silver teeth, he had an electric cord plugged into the wall outlet, the ends of the cord were frayed and the two wires were pulled apart. He would put the light bulb between his teeth and then hold both ends of the electric wire, one in each hand. The bulb would light up, sticking out of his mouth. (Don’t try this at home).

Gary and I went to the bar, pushed a few whores aside to make room for our elbows.  We ordered a bottle of mescal and two draft beers for chasers.  We were about half way through our first bottle, when we noticed every one looking out the window.  It seems like the crowd of people in the street had started moving in one direction like “lemmings leaping into the sea”, the folks in the bar wanted to see what was the commotion, they rushed to the window to find out.

The murmur outside became a roar, instead of moving fast, folks began running past the window.   The building started shaking.  So many people moving in one direction, it was dumbfounding.  The guy on the skateboard came inside under the swinging doors and hollered “Run for your lives, Pedro is coming!!!!!!!!!!!” .

Me, I was thinking that “Pedro” must be some rambunctious bull that some one had let loose and not thinking he could get in the bar, so I kept drinking my mescal.  That stuff has a kick to it in case you haven’t heard.  The people in the bar started leaving in a hurry, not even bothering to scoop up their change on the tables, knocking over chairs on their way out the front door.  Big time, even the guy passed out on the pool table got up in a hurry and left.

The beer tender came up to us, wanting us to settle our tab.  We asked him “What’s the rush amigo, we’ve only just got started?”  He said “You must hurry, haven’t you heard?  Pedro is coming; he is the biggest and the meanest hombre in all of Mexico”.

He was ready to go, so we got him to get us another bottle of mescal and he set it on the bar in front of us, before he too, took off running out the door.

Soon after that, the biggest, meanest and ugliest looking dude I ever saw came walking through the “bat wing” doors.  He had tattoos all over his chest and one on his back that was a complete bull fighting ring, with thousands of people, a matador and a bull in the center, it covered his back.  What I noticed most was even though he was bare chested he wore a shoulder holster, with a .45 automatic.  He came up to me and Gary at the bar, pulled out his pistol, pulled back the slide slowly, then turned to shoot at cockroaches scurrying on the shelves.  He holstered his gun and looked at us.

I reached over to the bar and grabbed the near empty bottle of mescal and chugged it straight from the bottle, clinched the worm between my teeth, bit it in two and swallowed both halves then tossed the empty bottle over my shoulder, never taking my eyes away from his.  He reached over to the bar and grabbed the unopened bottle of mescal and broke the neck on the edge of the bar.  Then he took his still smoldering cigarillo butt from his mouth, dropped it into the now opened bottle, then he raised the bottle to his lips, pressing the broken edges of the bottle so tight against his mouth, that blood started running down his chin.  He drank and chugged until all of the mescal was gone, either down his gut or running past both sides of his mouth until he had that cigar butt between his teeth, and he even swallowed that.

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.  I looked at Gary and he had his hand in his front pocket, I knew he was ready to whip out his blade.  This guy shook his head left, and then right a couple of times, like a boxer that had just taken a good punch to the jaw. Then, all of a sudden, he turned to leave, just the way he came in.

I reacted in surprise I couldn’t stand the suspense and hollered out “Hey Amigo, wait where are you going”?  He turned and looked at me , he spit phlem and blood.  Then he said, “Estupido Gringo haven’t you heard?  Pedro is coming!!!!!!!!!!!!!





CattyKisms 101

The kitties have decided to let me have a few minutes to myself. It seems they prefer the electric blanket’s company this morning, more than they do mine.





Let me try to use this time wisely, In my dreams I remembered this story.  See if you can relate.


Old school, I know.  Everyone is tired about hearing how we did it back in my day.  Every where you look, people have their face stuck staring at their phone.  I wondered out loud to my son, just how did we get along back in the day, without being able to send text messages?

Duh, back in school, we sent notes, via our friends to our girlfriends, via their friends.  Little folded up pieces of paper, most of the time the notes started out “Hi, whatcha doin?”  I use to fold mine up in a three corner manner like a paper football.  You didn’t want to get caught passing notes.

It was better than the Pony Express, it got the job done.

At church was a little different.  We didn’t pass notes, we used sign language.  My Sunday school teacher, Nell Johnson thought that it would be a good idea to teach sign language in Sunday School.  We had a couple visitors to our Church that were deaf, Ms. Johnson thought that we might get more visitors, if there more people that could sign and also I think she wanted to impress others when we went on visitations to other Churches.

sign lang 2

For young minds, it doesn’t take very long to pick up new ideas, as a group, my Sunday School Class at Dinsmore Methodist jumped on the idea.  We all got pretty good with the alphabet and could spell out our messages in church, without having to pass notes in front of the preacher.

My girlfriend at the time was the preacher’s daughter Gerry.  She and I carried on in front of her Dad, he didn’t care.  He was ex-Navy, a retired Chief.  He seemed to like me because my Dad was in the Navy.  I visited Gerry quite often and got to be a familiar face around the church and across the street, at their house.

During the summertime, I got to where I was slipping over to see Gerry after dark, around bed time.  After her parents said goodnight, she would open her bedroom window and I would slip in.  It started with her having her friend Linda Butler spend the night.  Then me and my friend, Wayne Taylor would sneak in through the opened window.

I really don’t know how her parents slept through all of that, it was a long summer.  I know that Wayne tried his hardest but I’m not sure that Linda liked him all of that much or if he just tried too hard, but their fussing cut into mine and Gerry’s private time.  Finally I told Gerry that Linda was gonna have to stop spending the night with her every week end.

To me, it was worth the wait.  Finally, it was just me and her.  I got to where I was falling asleep at her house in her bed, with her Mom and Dad in the next bedroom, just on the other side of that wall.  Her Dad would get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, I would scootch under the cover and Gerry would pull up the blanket, just in case he looked in.  Most of the mornings when he got up to pee, I would gather my things and head back out the window in the dawn’s early light.

Ed, the bread man would honk his horn at me most every morning when I was riding my bike home in my underwear, with my clothes wrapped up in a bundle on the handle bars.

I got my license to drive on my 14th birthday. I got a hardship operator’s permit, because of my mother’s bad health. Soon after that, Dad got me a car. Once I got to meeting all of those new girls at Paxon High School, I sorta stopped seeing Gerry so much, pretty soon, it was not at all.  I kept going to Sunday School but slowed down on going to Church.  Gerry found out about the girls I was dating over in Paxon, I’ll never forget the last message she sent me.sign land 4


My babies get me up just after 5, every morning.  The kittens want to play and the mamas want to get fed. I put on the coffee, then look for the can opener.  After two cups of coffee, I’m ready to write a story.


Soon after the cats eat, they are ready for a nap.  Leaving me with plenty of free time.


There is always one though that refuses to go back to sleep.   Now I’ve got a parrot on my shoulder that likes to meow when he sees the cursor move.  Now he’s all over the  keyboard on his way to the monitor.


Well, at least I don’t have to worry about having something to write about.


If it weren’t for them, I’d still be in bed.  Good time for me to write my dreams before I forget.