Considering the "heavy" nature of my first post, I thought it only appropriate that I leaven it with a "lighter" subject -- my cats.
In the course of my misspent life, I've managed to acquire 9 beautiful friends who make my life interesting. In 1995/6 (I forget exactly), a co-worker of mine convinced me to adopt 2 girls from a litter she had (don't worry, the cat was pregnant when my friend found her and she was subsequently fixed). They became The Girls -- Cassandra (aka Cassie, The Monkey) and Emma (aka Emslee). Soon after, she convinced me to rescued a grey, long-hair male from the shelter who became Calvin (those of you who know what "Calvin" means will understand the irony of the name).
Life puttered along for a few more years -- I got married, got divorced, changed jobs, moved -- always keeping my three faithful friends. Then I settled in to the apartment I currently occupy and I became a "cat magnet." There's a feral population of wild and abandoned cats around here. A few years ago, I managed to trap and fix about half of them and the population seems to have stabilized but in the course of events, I managed to fall for 6 more hard-luck cases.
The first to join the family was Megaera (aka Meggie), who waltzed into the apartment from the patio one night and never left. At the time, she couldn't have been more than a few months old and was just a bundle of fur (she looked remarkably like a tribble); and she's grown up to be (IMHO) the "supermodel beauty" of the group.
Malcolm was my next adoption. He came into my life one night when I came home from work (I work a night shift so don't get home till c. midnight) and found him under a bush. I went inside, assuming (hoping, really) that his mother had been scared off by my approach and she would come back for him. I looked back about a half-hour later and he was still under the bush and still crying. What could I do? "Welcome to the family, Malcolm."
Irene (aka The Reen-Bean, Reenie-Bean) has cerebellar hypoplasia (just search for it on YouTube and you'll get a very effecting video of Charley, who has the same problem). It's not lethal but it means that her rear legs don't work very well (cf. the video). She's also half-wild, which means she doesn't trust me much. In the 3+ years I've had her, we've progressed to the point where we can be in the same room together and she won't immediately run away (sometimes, she doesn't even wake up from her nap). I've been heartened by her recent actions -- she's allowed me to rub her back and scratch her chin for limited amounts of time (though the approach has always been initiated by her). I figure I'll be able to hold her in my lap around 2020, or so.
The last 3 were sort of a "package deal." The Boys -- Oberon (aka Obi-ron Kenobi, Jedi Cat) and Puck (aka Mr. Puck, the Puckman, Puckmeister) (heads up Shakespeare fans) are stray brothers (their other brother, Manchester, was adopted into the good home of another co-worker). Both are incredibly friendly, very handsome young men. Miss Grey (aka Miss Greybee) is the surviving cat of another sibling pair. Her brother, Lewis & Clark, was diagnosed with Feline AIDS and I had him put to sleep (not the happiest day in my life; though I had only known him for a few months, his departure left a hole in my life; I don't like to contemplate what I'll be feeling when my "old timers" begin to pass away). Back to Miss Grey, though; she's Calvin's special "friend" -- dare I say "girl friend"? Whatever the case may be, she likes to cuddle up with him whenever possible. Unlike the Boys, she's a very quiet, shy, prim & proper young lady.
I tried uploading some images to the post but I'm writing from my home and I only have a phone modem so it was taking a looooong time. At the risk of angering the e-mail police at work, I'll try uploading some from there later on.
In the course of my misspent life, I've managed to acquire 9 beautiful friends who make my life interesting. In 1995/6 (I forget exactly), a co-worker of mine convinced me to adopt 2 girls from a litter she had (don't worry, the cat was pregnant when my friend found her and she was subsequently fixed). They became The Girls -- Cassandra (aka Cassie, The Monkey) and Emma (aka Emslee). Soon after, she convinced me to rescued a grey, long-hair male from the shelter who became Calvin (those of you who know what "Calvin" means will understand the irony of the name).
Life puttered along for a few more years -- I got married, got divorced, changed jobs, moved -- always keeping my three faithful friends. Then I settled in to the apartment I currently occupy and I became a "cat magnet." There's a feral population of wild and abandoned cats around here. A few years ago, I managed to trap and fix about half of them and the population seems to have stabilized but in the course of events, I managed to fall for 6 more hard-luck cases.
The first to join the family was Megaera (aka Meggie), who waltzed into the apartment from the patio one night and never left. At the time, she couldn't have been more than a few months old and was just a bundle of fur (she looked remarkably like a tribble); and she's grown up to be (IMHO) the "supermodel beauty" of the group.
Malcolm was my next adoption. He came into my life one night when I came home from work (I work a night shift so don't get home till c. midnight) and found him under a bush. I went inside, assuming (hoping, really) that his mother had been scared off by my approach and she would come back for him. I looked back about a half-hour later and he was still under the bush and still crying. What could I do? "Welcome to the family, Malcolm."
Irene (aka The Reen-Bean, Reenie-Bean) has cerebellar hypoplasia (just search for it on YouTube and you'll get a very effecting video of Charley, who has the same problem). It's not lethal but it means that her rear legs don't work very well (cf. the video). She's also half-wild, which means she doesn't trust me much. In the 3+ years I've had her, we've progressed to the point where we can be in the same room together and she won't immediately run away (sometimes, she doesn't even wake up from her nap). I've been heartened by her recent actions -- she's allowed me to rub her back and scratch her chin for limited amounts of time (though the approach has always been initiated by her). I figure I'll be able to hold her in my lap around 2020, or so.
The last 3 were sort of a "package deal." The Boys -- Oberon (aka Obi-ron Kenobi, Jedi Cat) and Puck (aka Mr. Puck, the Puckman, Puckmeister) (heads up Shakespeare fans) are stray brothers (their other brother, Manchester, was adopted into the good home of another co-worker). Both are incredibly friendly, very handsome young men. Miss Grey (aka Miss Greybee) is the surviving cat of another sibling pair. Her brother, Lewis & Clark, was diagnosed with Feline AIDS and I had him put to sleep (not the happiest day in my life; though I had only known him for a few months, his departure left a hole in my life; I don't like to contemplate what I'll be feeling when my "old timers" begin to pass away). Back to Miss Grey, though; she's Calvin's special "friend" -- dare I say "girl friend"? Whatever the case may be, she likes to cuddle up with him whenever possible. Unlike the Boys, she's a very quiet, shy, prim & proper young lady.
I tried uploading some images to the post but I'm writing from my home and I only have a phone modem so it was taking a looooong time. At the risk of angering the e-mail police at work, I'll try uploading some from there later on.
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