Our first kitty was name Icey. She was black and white, and lived long enough to have a litter. She was killed on the road and was found dead under the mailbox. Hisses on the driver who hit her and left her there. Unfortunately, we never took any pictures of Icey. She is buried in a special place in the yard, known as Icey's Bed. Flowers bloom every spring and winter over her head.
From Icey's litter, Snow and Tigre were born. Tigre was John's cat and left us for the catnip fields beyond when he was almost a year old. Tigre's favorite sitting place was a table with the phone on it. As he grew bigger, he outgrew the space and would have to squeeze himself into it.
Snow became OUR CAT. She had the run of the house, the yard, the woods, and the fields across the road. She was skittish about the road after the death there of her mother. She never used a litter box, preferring to hide her waste somewhere in the yard. When we went to Bavon for more than a couple of days, she went along, enjoying the huge expanse of sand, but fearful of the big water. She preferred to stay behind the dunes, visiting in the community, and playing with the large community of cats on the peninsula. She was fussy about what she ate, and would only eat Meow Mix. She enjoyed canned Friskie's food as a treat, and loved if we put down a raw egg for her. She was an independent lady, who had one voice for "out" and another to let us know the food dish needed refilling. She lived 13 years before joining her mother and brother in the catnip fields beyond. For her, we built the perch on the porch, so she could stare in the window to let us know she wanted to come in. Snow was clearly Steve's cat, and she barely tolerate me. I was good for opening the door and little else.
Snow was a good mouser, and often brought her successes into the house. She also liked to lay on her back, mouth open with anticipation, at the bottom of a pole with a bird feeder on it. She loved to climb poles and trees to get a perspective on the world.
Fred came from Wisconsin when Mom went into a nursing home. Mom refused to go in the home, if Fred was to be put down, so Winifred flew from Wisconsin to Virginia when she was thirteen years old. She pined for her life with Mom. She had been declawed, so only went outside for short trips close to the house. Finally, she left us one day and never returned. By that time she was fourteen years old. She was an aggressive cat who chewed on cords and bit us frequently. She seemed to enjoy the mild winters and nibbling at the grass in the months when Wisconsin is under constant snow. Fred was very overweight when she arrived and our first task was to slim her down. She became more active as she dropped the extra weight from overeating when Mom would forget she had just fed her.
After Snow and Fred went to the catnip fields beyond, our house was without a cat for several years. The house felt empty.
We instituted a search for another white kitty. After a long search, we found Snowkitis. Snowkitis is a dead ringer for the Original Snow, but has a unique personality. Unlike Snow, who was forbidden to sleep on our bed, Snowkitis takes it as her right to warm us in bed no matter how warm it is already. Snowkitis is partial to Steve, but comes to me easily for rubs and neck ruffles.
A few weeks later, Rescue fell into our lives - literally. He was two weeks old when he must have climbed a sapling and fell into a burn barrel in the yard. Steve heard his loud cry, and fished him out of the barrel. He had to be set into a bowl of milk, since he was too small to reach the milk from the outside. For a few weeks, he had to massage his belly to get him to eliminate. Finally, he started to use a newspaper, and a low-sided box as a litter box. Eventually, he was big enough to share the regular litter box with Snowkitis.
Together they keep us content with purrs and amused by antics. They both love the outdoors, and let us know when they want to go out. A favorite pasttime is to climb the pussy willow tree from the porch perch hoping to catch one of the birds that flit through the branches. When they are both on the perch, it usually means they want to come in. But not always. Sometimes they just like to lay together on the perch enjoying the filtered sunlight.
Page created October 6, 2004. Anne Pemberton. Updated Tue, October 12, 2004 .