pyewacketsworld

Part 3:

Since I recently discussed Whoopi, the female cat who was to in effect start the cat population problem my mother and I were to have, though no fault of hers, but my mother for not taking her in time to get fixed to prevent any litters of kittens, I thought it only fitting in a way to talk about her kittens.

It was on April 6, 1993 that Whoopi gave birth to six kittens, and I named them Demi, an all black kitten and named after Demi Moore, E.T., who was the second cat to be given this name, a black and white female; Dixie a tiger-striped female, Pixie, also a tiger striped male cat, Ashley, a male tiger striped cat, and finally, Shelby a male cat with similar markings of his “mom” that is predominantly tiger striped, but with white on his face and “booties” on his paws.

It’s funny how since these were “sisters” and “brothers” to each other how different their personalities were. Demi, while a beautiful all black female cat, was never friendly at all, not like the majority of her siblings. E.T. on the other hand was a sweetie pie, a black and white female cat, that was the second cat to be named E.T. The first E.T. as you can probably guess and imagine I had gotten when the movie came out in 1982 and was a real lovebug, and male kitten that was adopted from Bide-A-Wee in Manhattan. He unfortunately passed into Rainbow Bridge on September 4, 1992. When Whoopi’s black and white female kitten was born, the markings on her were so exactly similar to the first E.T. is was downright eerie, so I naturally named her E.T. as well. Dixie was to grow up as a cuddle bug and a charmer of a tiger striped female cat. The three “boys” were also very affectionate, that is Ashley, Pixie and Shelby.

Now, as to the fate of what happened to those six. Demi was one of the first to be “surrendered” to Animal, Care and Control, on Wednesday, April 19, 2006, due to the eviction issue my mother and I were going through. The pet rescuer friend of mine, Karen, who was tracking my cats as they were going into AC&C, for the most part “rescued” and took the cats to her rescue place, however, with Demi, it was deemed that she was purely adoptable, that is until, Karen informed me a few weeks later that she was put down, as she had developed a very common respiratory ailment common to shelter animals, that is kennel cough. If just one animal is sick in these shelters, then almost all can get this condition. Since Demi was a perfectly healthy cat, then of course, that means she caught it from another cat there.

E.T. was one of the cats, if I had been allowed to keep more than just two, would have loved to have kept as she was a real charmer. She was taken in by a pet rescuer way up-state New York on Monday, May 1, 2006 (along with four other cats, Mickey, Tommy, Peewee and E.T.’s brother, Shelby). I unfortunately haven’t been in contact with the pet rescuer in sometime that is at least a year, but as far as I know E.T., Tommy, and Peewee are all alright, while unfortunately Mickey and Shelby passed on about a little more than a year ago.

Dixie wasn’t taken by a rescuer, nor AC&C, since she developed a severe infection that had been running throughout her system, and despite vet care and medications, passed into Rainbow Bridge on August 7, 2005.

Pixie was one of the lucky ones who was adopted by a wonderful woman named Virginia, on August 20, 2005. I’m still in contact with Virgina and she tells me he’s thriving very well. He’s now 16 years old. As for Ashley, he was one of five cats taken by yet another pet rescuer, different from the one who took E.T.. Shelby, Tommy, Mickey and Peewee, on May 1, 2006. Shelby as I mentioned already who was taken in by the other pet rescuer, unfortunately passed on over a year and a half ago in 2007.

DEMI and E.T.

Pixie and Ashley

Shelby and Dixie

©2009~Melanie Neer aka pyewacket

Part 2:

Don’t worry I’ll still will continue with my other “epic” series but would like to continue with my tribute to some of my former kitties and this one is in a way a very special one as it involves Whoopi who recently passed on to Rainbow Bridge.

It was a torrential thunderstorm on a Wednesday, June 4, 1992. That whole night my mother and I were aware of what sounded like a little kitten meowing pathetically. The next day, Thursday, the rain hadn’t let up and it was raining buckets again, and again my mother and I could hear this kitten meowing. The two of us decided to try to find the kitten and at least give it something to eat. Going outside, it took us awhile to try and find the kitten, but find it we did. We initially were just going to leave some food for the kitten, but like a mutual and silent agreement, we decided to take her in. She couldn’t have been more than a month old, so very young, and she was so cute, a silver tabby kitten with some white on her face and on her paws, making it look as if she was wearing socks. I named her Whoopi as one of my favorite people was Whoopi Goldberg.

We already had eight cats, but they seemed to welcome her into the apartment without too much fuss the way some older animals will when introducing a newer member of the pet world. When she got to be of age to get her fix, my mother said, “Oh, we’re not going to get anymore cats.” So she didn’t bother. BIG MISTAKE. Sure enough a few months later, in September of 1992, a neighbor rings our bell. He’s holding a large all black cat and saying he found the cat and it seems very friendly, could we take him in. I firmly kept saying no…we have too many cats as it is and couldn’t take anymore in. But they, that is my mother and the neighbor kept saying, “Oh, it’s only one more cat, ” over and over again. So I finally gave in and that’s how Keiko became a member of our household.

Well it didn’t take long to figure out that Keiko also wasn’t fixed, so gee, great a male and female pair of cats not fixed. I begged my mother to take one of them at least to get fixed. I couldn’t due to my disability and couldn’t travel to the vet who was some distance away from us. There was nothing preventing my mother to do so. So you can imagine what happened. Yes, kittens. Whoopi gave birth to six kittens on April 6, 1993. And that my friends, what was to lead to the mess we were to endure…the overpopulation of cats in our apartment that all too quickly got out of hand. I relate a lot of the mess we went through in earlier entries so I don’t think I need to rehash it.

Whoopi was a real sweetie pie though, a real snuggle bug and had this habit of nibbling on either my or my mother’s ears when sitting on one of our laps. She remained a petite thing, never growing very large, and yes, eventually my mother did take her to be fixed so she wouldn’t have anymore kittens, but her children and children’s children…all down the line were to have kittens.

Now if you refer back to my earlier entries you’ll know I had to find new places for the so many cats, or face eviction. According to the rules set by our landlord we couldn’t have anymore than two cats. During the first eviction threat in 2001 we did manage to adopt out a lot of cats but still had a lot, which eventually led to the second eviction issue in 2006. It was heart-breaking to decide which two to keep…if I could have, I would have loved to have kept at least two or three more of my real favorites, Whoopi being one of them. On Monday, May 1st, 2006 a pet rescuer came from upstate New York and agreed to take five cats, Whoopi among them. I all to remember the look on Whoopi’s face as I gently grabbed for her to place her in the traveling case, a look I’ll never forget…it was a look as if to say, “Do you want me anymore? Don’t you love me anymore?” Of COURSE I did, but what could I do? Honestly, I wanted to kick my mother’s butt for creating the whole situation to begin with.

Anyway, from 2006 up til recently, the pet rescuer was taking good care of Whoopi, and even mentioned how Whoopi was nibbling on her ears. On a Friday, January 30 I was thinking to myself, let me contact the rescuer tomorrow, as I hadn’t for awhile, and tell her, if anything should happen to Whoopi, could you please let me know? And one of the things that prompted me to contact the rescuer, was that for that whole week, for some reason I kept thinking of Whoopi, I mean more than usual. Well, you can imagine my surprise when I got an email from her instead, and it said:

Just wanted to let you know we lost Whoopie today
she was happily sleeping on her pad ( which is on a heating pad)
I was scritching her she stretched , let out a sigh and died
I miss her already ;(

I miss you too Whoopi…you were a nice little gal, and I wished I could have somehow kept you.

RIP June 5, 1992~January 31, 2006

WHOOPI AS A KITTEN

Whoopi with her kittens

Whoopi

©2009~Melanie Neer aka pyewacket

Part I:

Before I continue with my ongoing series in my Bits and Pieces Of My Life, known as “It’s Great How Things Have Fallen In Place For You” I thought I would show off some of the photos of some of the cats I gave up.

These are the “happier” and luckier ones who were eventually taken in by pet rescuers, and some where later adopted out to good homes.

Even before the eviction issue occurred back in March of 2006, I was lucky to have a wonderful woman, named Virginia come to my home and adopt out Pixie on August 20, 2005. Pixie was one of the original six from the very first litter of kittens born on April 6, 1993 and whose “mom” was Whoopi, and pops was Keiko. He was an “older” cat to begin with, being twelve years old at the time. He is still healthy and thriving and doing very well with Virginia of whom I’m still in contact with.

This is a picture of Pixie snoozing on a TV cart and was taken not long before he was adopted out to Virginia

The next two cats to be taken was by a rescuer from Animal Haven in Flushing, NY and were Kola and Matoaka. Kola was born on September 9, 1997 and Matoaka was born on May 9, 1995. When the Animal Haven in Flushing was closed down, they were transferred to their Manhattan Animal Haven. I was recently informed that both were adopted to new homes.

Kola

Matoaka

The next two cats to be taken by a woman named Lynn, in an upstate rescue place on March 11 2006, were Missy and Winema. Missy was born October 11, 1999 while Winema was born on April 7, 1995. Winema was adopted out, but sadly some illness overtook Missy, even the pet rescuer’s vet was at a loss of not knowing what happened to her and she died on April 6, 2006.

Missy

Winema

Will continue my tribute to my cats in my next entry

©2009~Melanie Neer aka pyewacket

It might seem silly to post this, but I just had to. You see, today, in a way was a sad day, not only for me, but for my two cats, Pyewacket and Kissy. No, nothing dire happened, but since it was January 12th, nearly a full month since I got my real Christmas tree, I decided it was high time to take the tree down. Speaking for myself, I hate, hate, hate taking the tree down. What can I say? I’m like a little kid who looks forward to Christmas and look forward every year to getting that real tree. I actually have a neighbor next door that gives me a lecture about getting a real tree too. She argues with me, “How can you sanction getting a real tree, you, the environmentalist/conservationist?” Then she goes into a long tirade of why I shouldn’t get a real tree. I just stand there listening to her yakking away and not offer any comment, I mean you just can’t argue with a “know-it-all” that she comes across as…so I let her lecture to me go in one ear and out the other. You see my philosophy about the whole thing is this: number one, the vast majority of trees that are for our Christmas trees are purposely grown for the Christmas tree market, so it’s not like thousands of trees are being hacked down from natural forests. Two, since the trees are grown on tree farms, what trees are cut down, new ones are planted. Also, my way of thinking is that since they do cut down so many trees by my buying one, I’m “saving it” and giving it a nice home and will cheer up my apartment.

Now before I go on with this story, first I must tell you about one cat I used to have, that I began calling the “Christmas tree Cat”

Willie: The Christmas Tree Cat:

September 24, 1984 ~ March 24, 1997

I got Willie, September 24, 1984. I was coming home from doing some errands, and I noticed this cat in the yard area of an apartment building called Elmhurst Towers, which is a few blocks from where I lived. He seemed to be quite content playing and catching the leaves that were starting to fall in their already splendid orange and red colors. Yes, I could have ignored him, as there were quite a number of stray cats that would make the yard area as their home, but for some reason I couldn’t ignore him. I went into the yard area, as at that time it wasn’t fenced up like it is now. He noticed me and came running over, as if he was greeting a long lost friend. And yes, as you can imagineI took him home. Now to give you the “roll call” as it were of the cats I had at that time: Snoopy, the white cat I’ve already mentioned, Mickey and Tommy, Cindy, Jennie, E.T. and Tippy, of whom I’ve also mentioned here in my blog. So with Willie, he was to become the eighth cat in our apartment. The funny thing is, we never were to call him Willie, but plume, as his tail was thick and bushy, almost like a Maine Coon Cat’s, yet he wasn’t of that breed. Willie was one of those real affectionate cats, and he had one very distinct, distinction. He seemed to love Christmas…especially the tree. He must have somehow shared my love for that real Christmas tree, and when I would bring it in, he would have to come over and inspect it, and if to judge whether it was worthy or not.

The thing that was really poignant however, was what would happen when the day came to take the tree down. On my scout’s honor and word, he would watch the whole process of my stripping the tree bare of it’s ornaments and lights, then began the process of hauling the tree out from my second floor apartment to take it downstairs to the outside garbage area. As I slowly dragged the tree out of the apartment, he would literally follow me and the tree, then sit himself down at the door, watching, watching, watching that tree leave. A few minutes after I would come back from downstairs, sans tree. I’d open the apartment door, and Willie would still be sitting exactly where I had left him, and I swear he would have the saddest, most forlorn expression on his feline face. Willie is long gone now, as he went to Rainbow Bridge on March 24, 1997, yet as a remembrance of him, I’ve place a framed photo of him on the wall and near the spot in the living room where I usually have the Christmas tree. And okay, this might sound a bit wacky, but I swear the expression of Willie in the photo looks downright sad whenever I take the tree down.

Which now brings me to today. My two present cats, Pyewacket and Kissy never have seemed impressed with any holidays, yet they do love the Christmas tree if anything, to snooze under it as if it were their own little private forest. What a sorry sight though, the tree had gotten, maybe cause I got it relatively late, on December 16th and maybe it was as fresh. What a difference from my tree last year when it stayed fresh for so long, that I didn’t dispose of it until near mid-February. But the tree looked so forlorn and droopy, so yesterday I took the ornaments and lights off, thinking to myself, that I’ll dispose of it today. The cats must have sensed something, as they once again snoozed under the tree, something they hadn’t done in awhile. Well today I first had to go out and do some errands, but almost the moment I came into the apartment, began the trek of taking the tree down. This time, Pyewacket watched everything I was doing and watched as I took the tree out. When I came back up, Pyewacket was sitting at the spot where the tree had been, and once again it seemed I had a cat, that had a sad forlorn look on his feline face.

Do animals feel sadness over a Christmas tree being disposed of? Who knows, all I can say, I’m just relating something that I’ve experienced in my life, especially that of Willie “Plume” and now Pyewacket. I still have to take the rest of my decorations down…bit hesitant. All the Christmas decorations make my apartment look so festive and lively, once they are down, the apartment looks absolutely bare and naked. And just think, Christmas 2009 is a mere 346 days away….can’t wait!

©2008~Melanie Neer aka pyewacket

Tippy’s Story
May 13, 1983 ~ August 31, 1999

It’s funny but even though I’ve had a number of cats throughout my life, some just stand in memory more than others, and this is certainly true when it comes to Tippy.

I was home at the time on May 13, 1983, when I heard a commotion going outside and the loud voices of children supposedly playing, but playing innocently they weren’t. Upon looking out one of my windows of my apartment, I saw a circle of kids and at first I thought they were tossing a ball around to each other, but then I noticed, nope it most certainly wasn’t a ball, but a panicky, frightened kitten. In a huff, I raced outside and went directly to the kids. I didn’t say much to them, for if I had my language would have been anything but ladylike…as I can have the mouth of a truck driver. As calmly as I could, I asked the kids to hand the kitten over to me, and surprisingly the one boy who had the kitten did. And that’s how Tippy came into our household. She was a small, cute bundle of fur, a grey tiger-striped cat with a little orange tip on her tail thus the reason for calling her Tippy.

Tippy was to become another one of my velcro cats, bonding to me immediately and from day one, or should I say, night one that she came into the apartment, would cuddle up and sleep with me. She was perhaps also, one of the few cats I ever had, that while I was stretched out in bed reading before going to sleep that had the habit of massaging my back. Since she was seemingly always by my side, she would even “help” me while I would set my living room up like a photographer’s studio, where I often did seasonal set-ups on holiday themes, such as Halloween and Thanksgiving. She often became part of the photos I would take, and she seemed to be a real ham, loving to be photographed.

Like I said, she was one of my velcro cats, hardly ever leaving my side, until something happened. At the time, I had another cat (among quite a few), named Bobbie, a light orange-colored tabby, who for some reason out of all the other cats we had, decided to “pick” on Tippy and quite literally bullied her. He became mean and nasty, perhaps jealousy? Have no idea as he didn’t bother the other cats the way he did to Tippy. And to think that animals don’t get jealous! Sort of the same thing as sibling rivalry.

Poor Tippy became so timid and frightened of Bobbie’s bullying, that she took refuge in the kitchen cabinet over the refrigerator and never came out, save to be fed on top of the refrigerator. It also meant either my mother or I would have to bring the litter pan to her on a routine basis. She just wouldn’t leave that refuge sanctuary that she had made for herself there. This went on for years, how many I can’t even remember now, but a good long time.

Then by a miracle, or so it seemed, one day I was in the living room and couldn’t believe my eyes as Tippy not only had left her sanctuary of the kitchen cabinet, but was proudly prancing around the living room, as if nothing had happened all these past years. And by another miracle, Bobbie didn’t bother her. Of course, looking back, maybe this seeming miracle should have sent warning signals of some kind, the mere fact that Tippy was out again, and that Bobbie wasn’t bothering her…as if maybe he sensed something, but I was just so happy to see Tippy out again. She even took to climbing on my bed at night to keep me company, and resumed her messaging of my back while I was stretched out in bed reading. This little happy miracle didn’t last long, perhaps only a week or so.

One day, on August 31, 1999, I woke up and noticed Tippy lying on the floor near the foot of my bed. I thought she was sound asleep, but when I went over to her, and petted her, she didn’t move. Yes, she had sometime in the early mornings hours had passed onto the Land of Bast, or as many call it Rainbow Bridge. What made it all the more poignant was the mere fact that she was near my bed, as if her last wish was to somehow be near me.

©2008~Melanie Neer aka pyewacket

Snoopy: November 7, 1970 ~ August 10, 1991

Probably one of my other more memorable cats I’ve had over the years was Snoopy, and it was a bit strange and odd how he happened to come into my life. I was on my way home from high school on November 7, 1970 and stopped in my local magazine shop. I was busy browsing the magazine racks looking for any new magazines that may have come out and that I might want to buy, when in came this magnificently, all pure white young cat. He was by no means a kitten exactly, but what intrigued me was his brilliant white fur. I had never in my life seen an all white cat before, and you might say he was “calling to me”. He sauntered over to me as if I were a long lost friend, and began rubbing his feline body against his legs. Considering that he was a stray cat, he was very clean looking as if at one time he may have belonged to someone. I quick dashed out the magazine store to find a public phone, and called my mother’s place of work about finding this gorgeous white cat, and would it be all right to bring him home, and she said yes. I dashed back into the store, where the white cat hadn’t moved a muscle from where I had left him, as if he were waiting for me. I scooped him up and wrapped him under my black velvet coat that I was wearing at the time, as it was a very chilly day that day. He made himself at home right away, as if he had lived there all his life, and the other cats that I had at the time, consisting of Babette, Friskey, Biddy and Patchouli seemed to welcome him as well, like he was a member of the feline family. Rather unusual as usually whenever a pet owner introduces a new pet into the family where a pet or pets already exists, there is often an “adjustment” period where they get to know each other and get along.

I don’t know why, but when it came to name this cat, I picked out the name Snoopy, after that famous Charlie Brown beagle created by Charles Shultz. Now here is where an oddity occurred and has always struck my mind even to this day, so many years later. My great-grandmother had died only a few months before on August 30, 1970 at the age of 98. Both my mother and grandmother informed me, that my great-grandmother while throughout her life always had pets, she always, but always wanted a pure white cat, but never had one. It almost became the family joke that Snoopy was “Grandma’s” cat, not only because he was a pure white cat, but he appeared in our lives only a little while after her death. And odder still, the fact, that Snoopy was the only cat in our home to live as long as he did. He died on August 10, 1991, some twenty years after finding him and as I said, he hadn’t been a kitten, so therefore probably even older. To this day, I can’t help thinking, that in more ways than one, Snoopy really was in every sense of the word, was “Grandma’s” cat.

©2008~Melanie Neer aka pyewacket

Friskey: May 19, 1968 ~ July 5, 1975

A continuation of my story about Friskey

This is a continuation of my story about Friskey, the cat who changed my mind that all cats weren’t as aloof or unfriendly as my first cat Babette had been. Friskey was to become one of my “velcro” cats, always sticking nearby me, following me around like a dog, he definitely wasn’t the definition of a independent cat. During the years that I had taken Friskey home we were to have a few more cats come into our lives. But Friskey was to remain one of my first favorites. Then heartbreak came.
It was early July 1975 and I was away for a few days visiting with a friend of mine. When I came back home the first thing I noticed of course, was that there was no Friskey. My grandmother was to tell me what had happened. One day she noticed that Friskey could barely walk and his back legs were giving him trouble, so she took him to our nearby vet, the vet we had gone to since our very first cat Babette came into our lives and we had trusted him during all these years. I asked her did the vet give any indication of what was wrong and she said no.

Friskey was to remain at the vet’s for about a week. We constantly called for updates but weren’t told a thing. We even asked if we could visit him and the vet said no as it might upset him. Now remember, we had trusted this vet for some thirteen years so we weren’t suspicious of anything. Finally, we asked if we could take him home and the vet agreed. When we picked him up however, no real explanation of what was wrong with him was given to us, no medications were given to us, and we were surprised to see his one back leg was all bandaged up…still no explanation of what was wrong.

My grandmother, mother and I were just happy to have Friskey home again. But he didn’t improve and only became worse. We decided to take him to another veterinary place, a rather expensive one in Manhattan. The news wasn’t good. We were informed that Friskey had a severe case of gangrene in that leg of his. We wondered, how did he get that way? He certainly didn’t have gangrene of the leg when we had taken him to our “trusted” vet. The options weren’t great either. The first was that the leg could be amputated and then very extensive therapy given to Friskey to get him used to walking and coping with only three legs, but at an astronomical cost, way above our means. The second option was as you might guess, the unfortunate one we had to take…to put him down. Neither my grandmother nor mother could cope with the decision or wanted to make it, and turned to me to make the decision….as if I wanted to. No, I most certainly did not but we just didn’t have the money to go for the other option. Tears were flowing on all our faces as I grimly told the vet to put my beloved Friskey down. Arrangements had also been made, since we had burial plots at the Wantaguh, Long Island, Bide-A-Wee to have Friskey buried there. Friskey was to be my first heartbreak, but he certainly wasn’t to be the last. Even after all these years, some thirty-four years later, I still miss my “velcro” cat.

As a note: We were to later find out, that the vet we had trusted for some thirteen years had a bad reputation. He seemed only interested in treating cats that were purebreeds only and not mere “domestic short-haired cats”. Many other pet owners of both cats and dogs also had major complaints against this vet, yet nothing was formerly done, and he still remained in practice many years to come until he retired. Nowadays of course, a person probably would have and could have sued, but then something like this never occurred for pet owners to do. If it had, believe me, we would have sued the daylights out of this vet.

©2008~Melanie Neer aka pyewacket

Friskey : May 19, 1968 ~ July 5, 1975

Since I was only a little girl when my mother got our first cat Babette as a Christmas present, and never had any kind of pet before, if I was to judge the personality of a cat based on Babette, I probably would never have gotten another cat. Babette wasn’t exactly the friendliest cat going and pretty much kept to herself. But then came Friskey and he was to change my mind about cats in general.

It was on Mother’s Day back in 1968 when I was twelve years old when my grandmother and I went to visit my great-grandmother. As we were walking home, alongside on one of the streets, one of the shop owners came running out and said to us, “Is that your cat?” The two of us turned around and there was this very young male silver tabby kitten quite literally following us. He seemed very friendly so it’s my guess that maybe he had belonged to someone and somehow had gotten out. I asked my grandmother if we could take the cat home and she agreed. I came near him, scooped him off the street and cuddled him next to me. He didn’t struggle at all, nor showed any fear of me, instead purred contently in my arms. I was to name him Friskey. Where Babette was aloof and a loner type cat, Friskey was the opposite and became a “velcro cat”–that is, like a dog instead of a cat and would follow me around the apartment, cuddled up in bed with me, and would keep me company all the time I’d be home.

Over the coming years we would get more cats, but Friskey was the first to be a memorable love-bug of a cat, he was also to be my first heartbreak of which I’ll discuss in my next entry.

As I previously have mentioned, I’ve had cats ever since I was five and a half years old. I’m now 53 and could never imagine life without my “babies” and yes, like many pet owners, think of my “furbabies” as my children. I now only have two cats, Pyewacket and Kissy, but it’s so comforting to know I have them. Over the summer, I had gotten a nice new bed with a bookcase headboard, and heaven forbid I actually put books in them as they have taken that spot over as their own. I love how the two hop on my bed when it’s time for me to go to sleep and will cuddle up right next to me, keeping me warm on cold winter’s nights. Who needs a comforter when they keep me warm? Pyewacket often sleeps and cuddles up right next to me, so heaven forbid I move. What’s really great, is that when I start rustling and waking up, Pyewacket will often gently pat his one paw on my face as if to say, “Okay mom, time to get up and feed us.”

What’s really amazing about pets in general, and I think anyone who has had pets, is how unique each pet is, that is each one has their own personality and no two can ever be exactly alike. For instance, my first cat Babette of whom was given to me as a present for Christmas back in 1961. Truth be told, Babette wasn’t exactly a cuddly, friendly type of cat, and if my grandmother, mother and I were to judge feline personality based on Babette’s personality we may never have gotten another cat. Ah, but that was to change when some years later another cat was to come into our lives, a grey tabby cat that was to be named Friskey. Friskey was totally opposite of Babette, friendly, outgoing, cuddly, a real teddy bear of a lovable cat. As unfriendly as Babette was however, it was indeed a sad day when many years later she passed on in 1977. She had been with me all through my elementary school years, junior high, high school and even college. I include a picture of Babette, and in my next entry I’ll talk more about Friskey.

An Introduction To My World of Pets
Thought I’d venture away from my Law of Attraction entries for awhile and start talking about another near and dear to me.  The pets in my life.  I’ve had pets, mainly cats ever since I was five and a half years old.  The very first cat I got, which was a Christmas present from my mother to me was Babette, a black and white cat.  My mother had gotten her at the Greenwich Village Humane League on December 7, 1962 and it almost seems fitting that I’m writing this on the anniversary so many years ago when I got her.  She was by no means to be the last cat in my life.  I had scores others.

Currently, I’m owned by two cats.  Pyewacket is my all black cat that was born on June 11, 2001, making him seven years old now.  My other cat is Kissy, a tiger-striped cat who was born October 21, 1999.  Pyewacket is the obvious boss of the home and can’t seem to get enough of my attention.  In fact, he has a bit of a jealous streak in him.  If I’m paying attention to Kissy, no matter where he is, even in a deep sleep, he’ll somehow hear me talking to her and comes running right over to me and virtually pushes her aside. Kissy, is a bit of a timid cat who is obviously bullied by Pyewacket, but yet the two do get along.   During this summer I had gotten a nice new captain’s bed with a bookcase headboard and a brand new mattress.   Well, as you can imagine, those two have taken over.   I was so happy to get the bookcase headboard thinking I finally had a nice area to store the books I like to read before going to sleep.  Well, things didn’t work out that way.  The two of them take turns nestling in the bookcase area, so nix the idea of books there.   And they definitely approve of my new mattress as both come up and cuddle next to me while I sleep, which interpretation means I wind up sleeping like a pretzel or contortionist…in other words, not very comfortably.

It’s funny about Pyewacket though, as I honestly think he’s my lucky cat.  It seems a lot of “blessings” came into my life the moment he came into it.  Many might be familiar with the name Pyewacket as the name of the cat in that famous movie Bell, Book and Candle starring Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart.  But I looked it up and the name Pyewacket actually goes back to Medieval England days and was always associated with black cats that were familiars to witches.

I thought I’d share photos of my Pyewacket and Kissy with you all.   First is Pyewacket, then Kissy.

I’ll be sharing a lot more stories about my cats in my next entry.  Believe me, there is a lot to tell.