CattyKisms 112

Adventure has followed me my entire life.  I have been here and done that.  Now that Father Time is finally catching up with me, so has Mother Nature.


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In my later years I have come to appreciate God’s own creations that have surround me.  I love my cats and kittens.  Who would have thunk it?  They are the center of my universe.  They keep my life interesting, fill it with joy and beauty.  The appreciation I get from the good folks that get kittens from me makes my chest swell.



I lived in southern Georgia for many years, with my wife and four sons.  The job I had paid $8.00 an hour, my travel time to and from work every day was one to two hours, each way.  The future didn’t look good.  The prospects for my son’s looked bleak.  I prayed for economic relief for me and my family.  We didn’t prosper, but we survived.


I started getting letters in the mail, once a month.  A pastor that remained anonymous told me that he knew me from my past.  He knew that I desired more than what I had.  He encouraged me, telling me that I had in me what it took to achieve success.  At first, I just thought he was fishing for a donation,  but no, he never asked.  I kept getting the letters filled with a positive message, trust in the Lord have faith, sometimes the letters contained a couple of pennies taped inside, as a hint of what lay in store.  One day I get a letter with an ignition key to what he said was a 1957 Lincoln.

In the letter he said that many years before some one sent him this same key.  It was the key to his success, he wanted to be a traveling Evangelist, all he needed then, was a car.  In his letter, he said that what worked for him could work for me.  All I had to do was go look for the lock that it fit.  I took this as a sign from God.  I loaded up my boys and went 3 hours away to Jacksonville.   We slept on the floor of my nephew’s house, printed up some business cards and went searching for work.




At Home Depot, I was passing out business cards.  I ran into a fellow that asked me if we could put up a privacy fence to block out his neighbors junky yard.  He lived in Beauclerc a very nice section of town.  His neighbor’s yard was cluttered up, it was across the street from his house.  Working hard, my sons and I put the fence up in less than half a day.

The home owner’s neighbor watched us work.  His name was Mike Miller.  He owned Jacksonville Waterproofing Company.  He watched us work and was impressed.  He asked if we would like to work for him.  He offered to pay our motel room bill every week, a generous salary and to have our pay check ready on Thursday every week, so that we could leave early on Fridays to travel back home to Georgia.

This was great, we loved it.  We worked on the improvements to Alltell Stadium where the Jaguars play football.  We met the owner, Wayne Weaver.  Mr. Weaver gave us an autographed football.  Then we worked on the new Wolfson Stadium Baseball Park, after that the new  “Veterans” auditorium.  The special privileges that we enjoyed didn’t sit well with Mr. Miller’s original employees.  The other workers didn’t like being “showed” up.  The foreman split us up to work on separate crews.  Telling us that it was to get more work out of the other guys.  Then the book keeper started complaining about the trouble it caused her to have our payroll done on a different day than everyone else.  Soon their grumblings made us feel uneasy.  We started passing out more business cards.




We met a fellow by the name of Dwayne Williams, a roofing contractor.  Dwayne paid us $320.00 per roof to nail on 24 square of shingles on brand new Habijax houses. We worked for months doing over 60 houses off of Golfair and throughout the Northside of town.  We tried to do two a day.  After each job, by carefully conserving the materials, we would end up with a couple bundles of shingles and some left over materials which we saved.  By the end of the week, we had enough materials saved up to go do a small roof.  People that lived in these old neighborhoods were always in dire need for a new roof or a roof repair.  We made other contacts and after a few jobs for Ricky Blaylock, I bought two dump trucks from him.  We were in business for ourselves then, as sub contractors.


One day we gave a card to Jack Blaze, he was the foreman for Mr. John that owned Jax Bargain Plywood.  They bought and sold houses on the side.  Soon we did all of their roofs and some repairs.  They gave me a discount on the materials and if any one asked the name of a good roofer, they passed them of one of our business cards.



My income as a contractor for many years was in the six figures.  I didn’t set anything aside because I thought I was still relatively young and had many more years to enjoy success.  But after 10 hernias and 3 operations, old age caught up with me.  It took me 3 years to get my disability claim approved.  I had to sell both of my dump trucks and all of the equipment that I had accumulated.  Living below the poverty level is hard to get use to.  After my disability was approved I didn’t qualify for any government help.




Once again God intervened, through my grand daughter Claire’s love for kittens, the good Lord opened my eyes.  Just like the letters I received from the unknown preacher, the kittens she loved so much, opened my eyes.  They provided me with the opportunity to provide for my family.  Now I breed Rag Dolls and sell them via the internet all across America.  I don’t miss the dump trucks or the hernias.




No, I don’t earn the six figure income anymore, but I have had a taste of it.  The Lord has provided for me through thick and thin.  We all hold the keys to our own success, we just have to unlock whatever it is that’s holding us back.



CattyKisms 111

Surprises?  My cats and kittens never fail to surprise me.  They are such wonderful creatures.  If you observe them on a daily basis like I do, you’ll notice that they have expressions and personalities so much like humans, it’s heartwarming.




The cartoons and memes that you see and read on the internet, brighten my day.  If you have to have a fault, then being a kitty person is one you can grow old with.



Cats can add humor to an otherwise dull world.  Just when I  think I’ve seen it all, heard it all or just get disgusted and say I’m through with it all, I notice a kitten playing with the blinds or turning the pages on an opened book.  They can distract us from the everyday realities that can be so depressing if you let them.


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They keep me from being lonely, they brighten my world.  I spend my time and money providing for them, to give them back what they do for me.



Just when I think I’ve seen it all.  I find out that they aren’t through yet with finding ways to entertain me.




Pretty Boy, my doll faced Persian, hates getting a bath.  Every time I try to clean his long white fur, it ends up costing me a trip to the ER.

But once I see the results, it’s well worth the trouble.




How do you put a price on happiness?  Because that’s what my cats do, they make me happy.  I can’t put a price on what there presence does for me.  Their value is so much more than I can ever repay.  What do they demand in return?  Your love, your time and your loving care .




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I don’t mind their surprises so much any more, in fact I look forward to them.  Just as long as they don’t leave it in my shoe.



CattyKisms 110

Stocking Stuffers

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I yust go nuts at Christmas.

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I really have lots of fun.

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If the powers that powers that be,

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Would listen to me,

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they would put under the tree,

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A kitten for every one.

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Merry Christmas.


CattyKisms 109

I guess everyone wanted to sleep in late this morning.  It must have been a rough night because I got to sleep until 6:30. Or maybe its just the cooler weather.  I had kittens on my mind when I woke up this morning. My brain is still kinda foggy, waiting for the coffee to perk, but I guess I was dreaming about cute kitties.

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Well, if that be the case, let’s start this day off right.  Kittens to the left of me, kittens to the right, here I am, right in the middle of dozens of cute kitty pics.

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Let me go check on that coffee, can you guys handle it for a minute until I get back?

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I know it may be hard to believe but some people never seem to get enough of cute kitty pics.  Me?  I guess I fall into that category.  Just lucky I guess.  I can think of worse things to have on your mind when you wake up every morning.

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I am sure that there are quite a few people that agree with me on this subject.  If so, let me here from you and I’ll be posting more.  I know, not every one is a kitty person.  It didn’t take effect on me until I was in my 60’s.  All I have to say about that is, “better late than never.”

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Okay, let me drain this cup of coffee and finish up my kitty pics for today. I’ve got my kitty fix.  I’ll be in good shape for the rest of the day.

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Brrrr! Cold this morning.A person’s body normal body temp is 98.6, well a cat’s normal body temp is 101 degrees.  Remember, even though they have a fur cut, if you’re cold, so are they.  Bring ’em in and let them keep you company.  If they do for you, what they do for me, it’s a good investment.

CattyKisms 108

White Cats

What is it about white cats/kittens?  Everybody loves them, especially if they have blue eyes.

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They are special.  One man called me from Bangkok, Thailand.

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He wanted two white kittens with blue eyes.  The first thing in my head was, I’ve heard stories about Asians eating cats, hopefully not this guy.  He laughed when I said that.  He told me he had heard of it too but for me not to worry, he doesn’t eat cats.  The next day, his courier came by my house and picked up the two kittens.  Come to find out, he was working in Thailand, he lived in Florida.

My best sellers, people will send me a deposit and wait in line for one of my white kittens.  I don’t really get that many, about 8 to 10 per year.  Maybe I should keep a female.  Folks come from New York, Tulsa, Ok., Miami, Tampa, Houston and even Chicago to get one.

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One thing about white cats, they fit in with your living room decor, what ever motif you have.

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If you are only going to have one cat, it should be a white one, they are hard to resist.

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All you guys out there, if you want to capture her heart forever, give her a white kitten.  Money in the bank.

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Mom and Dads, if your little girl wants a kitten, one that will be hers, even after she leaves home. A white kitten is a must. None of her friends will have a kitten quite like hers, because they don’t grow on trees.

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Me and mine.127


CattyKisms 108



When I’m looking for inspiration or to set the mood for one of my stories, I look to my photo gallery of kitty pictures.


Be it laughter or a somber mood, my friends never fail me.


Since 88,000 homes in America have a cat, having a story that appeals to cat owners, only increases your odds of success.



There are nights when I can’t sleep, especially after a powerful dream.  Nights like these I want to write my dreams down before I forget them.  My kittens are the first to join me at the keyboard, soon followed by the adults.



The cats instantly recognize the images of other cats.  Intrigued they sit stoically while I pound the keys.



That is until curiosity takes control and they can no longer sit idly by.  Then they bum rush the monitor, only to claw fruitlessly against the glass screen, confounding their piqued interests, leaving cat hairs behind in their wake.



If their company gets to be too much for me to continue with my story telling, I turn on the electric blanket, behind me on the bed.  Then, one, by one the cats find a spot on the bed where they can curl up and keep one eye open while they view the screen.



A temporary truce is called between spatting factions until I get up from my seat to put on a pot of coffee.  Then its a procession into the kitchen, spitting and sputtering, each wanting to be first to garner my attention.



I speak to them in a soothing voice and count heads.  Once the count gets to about 8 or 9, I proceed to open a can of salmon, slice up some oven roasted turkey or a fresh can of tuna.  There is always one or two busy in the litter box.  Before I start dishing out the treats, I try to make sure no one is missing.



The mothers are strict disciplinarians.  I feed them separate, each in their own nook or cranny.  While they are feeding, they don’t allow any other cat to intrude on their domain.



The males have to be fed in separate rooms or else the kitchen becomes a sparring ring.



Once I get everyone’s breakfast served, then it’s my turn to make my cup of coffee and return to my keyboard, Oh where was I?





CattyKisms 107

With 9 adult cats and countless kittens, I don’t get 8 hours sleep any more. It’s all catnaps.  Not totally a bad thing.  That’s when my memories come back.  I get a choice, either a 45 minute nap or take the time write, while the details of the dream are fresh.

Maybe I can learn to live with out the extra nap time.

In 2012, I was scheduled for a hernia repair operation.  The exact date had was pending.  My wife Bonnie traveled to Georgia, to take care of her 96 year old mother.  The next morning the Surgery department at the Hospital, called me at 5:30 am.  They told me they had  an opening in their schedule, could I be there by 7 am?  I wanted to get the operation over as fast as possible, so that I could change my insurance companies, so I told them sure thing.


I was able to wake my sister up to take me, 4 hours later, I’m back home, stiff, sore and woozy.  I told my Sis good bye, that I was gonna go to bed and sleep and sleep it off.

I was still sleeping around 12 midnight when I woke hearing kitty crying from somewhere.  I was almost afraid to fight the drowsiness, not liking what I heard.  I felt a motion on the pillow beside me.  It took me a few minutes to get up and turn on the light.  There was Pepsi on the pillow next to mine.  She had given birth to three stillborn preemies.

Pepsi had gotten sick a day or two before. A virus of some kind.  This caused her to give premature birth.  I kept hearing meowing, little baby meowing.  Like babies looking for the mama.  I could see the babies on my pillow, they weren’t moving.

Painful as it was (oh and it was), I got down on my knees beside the bed and looked under it with the flashlight.  There on top of the old Scrabble game that Aunt Alice gave me for Christmas 40 years ago, were 3 screaming, squirming and hungry little kitties.

I was able to get a finger on the edge of the Scrabble box and pull it out from under.  Pepsi was really acting weird.  She would sniff the babies, let them suck for about a minute then she got up and walked around, coming back to sniff their noses.


Not a chance right?  It would have been easy to throw in the towel.  I mean I was hurt, semi invalid for a day or two and I’ve got three little wharf rats that needed help from somebody.  I was the only one there.  I opened a can of Walmart’s kitty milk, nuked it for 10 seconds, got an eye dropper and went to town.  I fed all three, one at a time, talking to them to ease their stress.  Afterwards I would wash their face and then rub their little bodies with a dry cloth, trying simulate a mama’s rough tongue.

I was alright as long as I was sitting up.  If I had to bend over or even stand.  Oh, I was hurting.  I was afraid I’d bust the stitches, my stomached had been sliced opened again for the third time.  My son Julius came home kinda late.  He help keep me company while I fed the three scrawny kittens.


They were different shades of red, white and pink.  As I groomed them their colors began to turn white, except for the places where their hair hadn’t grown in yet.

During all of this Pepsi want to go into the room where her three kittens had been born dead.  She was sneezing and gagging, what a dilemma.  Pepsi wasn’t any help at all.  Chico was the babies’ daddy.  He was there with me the entire time.  You can’t ask for a better helper.  He would lay in their bed and let the kittens snuggle up to him.  I kept feeding them every other hour or so.  Whenever they ate, they slept afterwards.  When I would nap, I had a place for them in my desk drawer.  When I was up and around, Chico would nap with them, to keep them warm.

Juliette 99


Things got a lot  easier when Bonnie got home.  She took some of the pressure off, helping me feed them.  She did a much better job at being mommy, than I did.


Chico acted everyday like it was his job to sheppard these kittens.  They followed him around, he taught them how to play, he kept them clean.  Well you know, clean for a boy cats purrspective.  Eventually they got up to 8 weeks.  Originally, I thought they were boys and named them Hughie, Dewey and Chewy Louie.  After a short period, I got to wondering why they didn’t act like males, so I found out then that all three were girls.  They grew up to be healthy, normal kittens and cats.



When they got 8 weeks old, they left to do what they do, make little girls happy.  My kindle (a bunch of cats), is napping still, maybe if I’m quiet, I can do the same..

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.