Sunday, November 11, 2012

Our fur babies

It's now been 6 years since bringing our kitties into our home. Well, technically we lived in our apartment at the time but you get the point. I've always been a cat person. Brandon, not so much. I grew up with cats and never had a dog. Brandon was the exact opposite. We had only been dating for a little over a year when we got them. One week later, I left both of them home with Brandon while I went on a three week trip to Africa. He had never been around cats and didn't really know what to do. Oops.   

Brandon's black & white cat, Santa was abandoned by his mama in the woods and found my Dad's cabin. He fell down into the window well and couldn't climb out so he meowed until my Dad noticed. Then he hung around on the porch pestering Dad's cats. When it was clear that he wasn't going anywhere and no mama cat came to claim him, I got a phone call to "come get this thing" because he "couldn't keep another cat". When we got to the house, Brandon played with him and decided we would take him home. But not before stealing a dead mouse from him and throwing it into the woods. Which made our great hunter sad. Or pissed, I'm not sure which. He was hardly bigger than a Beanie Baby. These days, Santa is both mellow and high maintenance at the same time. He meows louder than babies cry, and for no apparent reason. Yet, he wants to be everyone's friend and hang out. You can find him watching water drip down our glass shower door or in a cave of blankets on the couch. He's our alarm clock on the weekends and our companion while watching TV. I think Brandon likes him better than me.     

Scuttle is my calico cat. We got her 1 week after Santa from my cousin's farm. She was one of the many strays running around out there and they had been calling her Pumpkin because of her orange patches of fur. She, too was tiny but finally ready to be adopted. We brought her, and those very sharp claws of hers home in a cardboard box. When we introduced her to Santa she hissed at him. She wouldn't let him get near the food if she was eating and would spin-kick him without warning. They clearly did not get along at first. Brandon didn't know if they were playing or killing one another. By the time I got back from Africa, they were best friends and Brandon had bonded with them. We should have named Scuttle, Moxie instead. She rules the roost around here. She'll run and hide when people come over and she doesn't like babies at all. You can find her laying in the sun or on my lap. She loves car rides. We'll even take her out of the carrier and let her look out the window like a dog. She's afraid of Brandon's feet. Perhaps she was stepped on when she lived in the barn years ago. She doesn't meow. She'll open her mouth, but only a tiny squeak comes out, if anything. Sometimes I like her more than Brandon. 

So happy adoption month, kiddos. Our little family wouldn't be the same without you.

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