Olive


Domestic Shorthair
Picture of Olive, a female Domestic Shorthair

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Home:Vienna, VA  [I have a diary!]  
Age: 9 Years   Sex: Female   Weight: 10 lbs.

   Leave a treat for Olive

Nicknames:
Pie, Olivander, Kiisukene, Fun Size, Knick-Knack

Kitty Complexion:
 Activeness 
sleepyvery active
 
 Intelligence 
sillygenius
 
 Curiosity 
not curiousvery curious
 
 Friendliness 
timidaffectionate
 
 Vocal 
not vocalvery vocal
 

Quick Bio:
-part feral-cat rescue

Coloration:
Tortoiseshell

Likes:
Olive loves nuzzling sleeping people in the face, and anything to do with Mart's or my closet.

Pet-Peeves:
Being picked up when she's On A Mission, not being fed eight times a day

Favorite Toy:
She loves the cat dancer, and she's very fond of balls. She'll play with them with us or independently, batting them around and carrying them around in her mouth.

Favorite Nap Spot:
On the heater in our bathroom or the living room. If there are strangers in the apartment she naps on one of the shelves in Mart's closet. At night she sleeps on our bed with us.

Favorite Food:
Fancy Feast White Meat Chicken Appetizers (thanks mom) and Iams Chicken and Liver. We're also learning to love Science Diet and Greenies, which we need for our teef.

Skills:
She's very fast, and agile...I watched her getting her nails trimmed at petco, and it was like she was a big, fuzzy ping-pong ball. She can also make an extremely pitiful "ehnnn" noise that never fails to engender guilt, pity, etc.

Dwells:
indoors

Arrival Story:
We found Olive (then Molly) through the Fairfax County Animal Shelter website, and when we visited her a few hours later, we knew we had found our cat. She was so sweet and playful right from the beginning...she even slept on our bed on her very first night with us. Olive's long journey to us began in Illinois, where she was an outdoor cat. In fact, we believe that she may have been a stray, or even a feral - her tipped left ear is a universal sign of having been caught in a trap-neuter-release program. Her owner died, and a friend brought her down to Fairfax. We think she intended to keep Olive herself...why drive all the way back here just to give her up? She's a very little girl...we thought that she was nine or ten months old, but the vet told us that she's four! She sleeps in our bed every night and she getting along well (okay, mostly well) with our roommate's cat, Bailey.

Lives Remaining:
9 of 9

I've Been On Catster Since:
September 26th 2009 More than 5 years!

Rosette, Star and Special Gift History

Catster Id:
1048051


Meet my family
Daphne (c.1992
- 2005)

Meet my Feline Friends
 

Olive Is Always Right


I Do Not Approve Of Fire Alarms

September 27th 2009 4:43 pm
[ Leave A Comment ]

So I'm just getting used to this new place, right? I'm sitting in Katie's room, minding my own business, when this HORRIBLE ringing noise starts up. Before I even have a chance to crawl to the most inaccessible spot under Katie's bed, Meghan comes running in, chattering at me and pretending like she's cheerful and we're about to go have fun. Just when I expect her to take out a ball or the cat dancer, she GRABS me and puts me in my crummy cardboard carrier. I did my best series of pitiful whimpers, but nobody let me out. I was a little disappointed, but I've only been here for a week - hardly enough time to train a human properly. Anyway, through the holes in the carrier I could see Mart and Meghan struggling to get Bailey into his carrier, so I took advantage of their distraction to claw my way out of the paper box.

Anyway, they finally got Bailey in his carrier, and then Meghan came searching for me. Being the resourceful girl that I am, I had hidden myself under the impregnable fortress that is Katie's bed. Meghan grabbed the cat dancer and started waving it around in front of my face. When I leaped out to attack it, she grabbed me AGAIN. I ALWAYS fall for that trick!

Meghan held me very tightly and talked worriedly with Mart about what they were going to do "now that I'd destroyed my carrier." After a few minutes of deliberation they put me in a big plastic container - the indignity! - and ran out the door and down the stairs. We made it about seven flights down before they finally ran into some other people. I couldn't quite hear it through the TUPPERWARE that I was in, but I guess they told the assorted Ms that it was a false alarm, because they growled and started carrying me back upstairs.

As soon as the fire trucks came and turned the alarm off, they went out and brought home what Meghan calls a "tortie-proof" carrier. We shall see.

 
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