April 28th 2010 8:02 am
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I grew and grew and grew some more. I will be a year old soon. Just think last summer I was found during the aftermath of a thunderstorm when my world was at its darkest point, soaked, broken and in pain. When I thought, I was going to die out of the night a strong hand plucked me out of the darkness and brought me home.
I struggled for a long time to become healthy. The wound on my belly took a long time to heal. It was as large as a silver dollar and I was only 5 weeks old, they tell my eyes were still blue. I laugh when they say that because Perry still has blue eyes and he is almost 15 years old, what's the big deal? Then came the day when I got up and half of my tail just dropped off. I did not feel it, but my new two-legged mom took me right away to that stinky place with all the needles and left me there for a while.
I was so scared, but I went right to sleep and when I woke up she was right there. She snuggled me against her and I felt safe again. I hate that stinky place! She has taken me there a few times since, I always get scared when we go there and try to make myself very small. It is very hard to do now I weigh 14 pounds and cannot snuggle as close to her as I used to. They seem to find me in her arms so much quicker.
We never stay very long now though. She has never left me like that time my tail dropped off. I hope nothing like that ever happens again. I do not go outside, it is scary out there but I do spend time looking out the windows. I have other cats to play with, the old ones do not like to play very much so my two legged parents got me a little brother. His name is poppy. He is a trouble maker and I like to watch him as he gets into trouble, but not me I am the good cat... I never, no not me.. I never get into trouble!
November 10th 2009 4:39 pm
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~We name all our cats after Flowers~
Weeks passed since the storm rumbled through and Ginger entered our lives soaked to the skin, wounded, and bleeding. The vet did the blood work making sure the kitten did not have feline leukemia or aids so it could stay with us and not put our other elderly kitties in jeopardy. Ginger snuggled in quite nicely in the cat carrier in my mediation room. We put a baby gat on the door so the other cats could jump in if they wanted to visit but the kitten could not get out, thus keeping it somewhat confined during its recuperation.
Perry Winkle never far from my side seemed the most interested in the kitten. He did not really play with it but would follow it around when it dove under the couch; Perry would peek under to see where it went only to jump backward when the kitten would pounce out at him in return. Being 14 Perry would give him and indignant look and stalk off as if insulted, only to find a higher spot to watch the foolishness of the kitten with an amused expression of distaste.
Lillie likes to pretend there is no new kitten at all in the house; after all, she is the kitten in the house. She may soon be 13 years old but she is the kitten and in her mind always will be. Her first reaction was to dash right past and lie with her back to it and then only briefly peek over her shoulder now and again and then look at me as if to say I see nothing, nothing at all. Since then she refuses to enter the meditation room at all.
Rosie hated the kitten at first sight and went out of her way to try and cause issues. We did not know at the time how much pain she was in but have since taken her to the vets as we noticed how she was walking. Rosie was our eldest cat. The vet recommended we put her to sleep as her left hip was distorted badly and the arthritics in her neck made it impossible for her to clean herself any longer. Much to our heart break we helped Rosie cross the rainbow bridge last night. Rosie was Steve's cat. He found her 9 years ago under a rose bush. She had been nearly strangled to death. she was so emaciated she looked like a kitten, and all her nails had been cut so short she was bleeding from all of them. Rosie came to live in my home when Steve moved in and did not like anyone but Steve. In the last 4 years she learned to trust more people as I would not let her run my house. She lived at least 9 good years; she will be missed.
We took Ginger to the vets also yesterday as her wound needed tending. The one on her belly looked much better but the one on her tail looked horrible. The vet and I talked and we decided she needed to have half of her tail amputated. So I left Ginger at the vets and picked her up later that same day. When I came to pick Ginger up I brought my daughter and my husband with me as I had a question which we had been debating as a family since Ginger came to live with us. It had been the two of them against me and I needed and professional to make the decision. The debate was about the gender of GINGER.
I say Ginger is a BOY.
Steve and Adriane say Ginger is a girl, thus the name Ginger.
Guess what........ I was correct... Ginger is no longer called Ginger... He is now named Dusty Miller after the flower Dusty Miller. Or Dusty for Short.
November 10th 2009 4:38 pm
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~ The picture of me looking all wet and scared was from that day.~
It was after a terrible thunderstorm ended we heard the sounds of a distressed cry. It was nearly midnight and Steve and I had not yet gone to bed as we were enjoying the cool calm the storm had brought when it left. The sounds was nearly lost in the sounds of the frogs melody down by the creek but it was there, high pitched and frantic. I heard it first and asked Steve to shush so I could be sure. Then he heard it too. It was the sound of a very young kitten.
Steve searched the kitchen for a flashlight, wouldn't you know it the large faced one would have dead batteries? He ended up with the small one I keep in the house for looking under the sink. In slippered feet, Steve went down the drive way and across the road towards the creek towards where the sounds seemed to be coming from.
He searched and searched, climbed over the rail and into the thicket working his way down towards the water. I worried he would disturb the snakes and rats and other critters which might inhabit that area we let grow wild. He shined the light towards the beaver dam and then ran it along the shore wondering if someone tossed the kitten from the road into the creek as the sound seemed to be getting fainter.
He worried the kitten was being carried off down the creek and would be lost. Soon the sounds of the kitten stopped all together. There was no more cries for help; no more frantic mellowing. My heart stopped when I did not hear it any longer, and Steve called out he did not have it; it was gone.
He came back into the house frustrated and angry at stupid people, we were all frustrated and angry. Adriane was in tears and I wanted to cry too for the little lost soul who did not have a chance. Steve got ready for bed as I picked up around the house muttering about the way people here in my area of the south seem to have no love or understanding for animals.
When I heard it again, frogs song and kitten cries mixed together.
I did not knock on the bathroom door, but burst in on my naked husband rousing him from the pot telling him I still hear the kitten. He looked up at me as if I was crazy. (Naked man on the pot, ready for bed crazy as he knew he was going back out) He tossed clothing back on and out he went, down the drive, across the road, and this time he went across the creek to the other side where there is a four-lane road.
He wandered this side of the creek shining the small light looking for the small kitten, for surely she had to be small with such a tiny voice. At some point it dawned on him she was not near the creek at all, but her voice echoed across the four lanes of highway. There was only a stray car passing now and then since it was now well into the early morning, making it easy for my brave husband to cross all four lanes safely.
Once there he honed in on the sound of her voice quickly. She was half way up the side of a wooded hill. Luckily, for her she would not have been able to get into the road as there was a puddle keeping her from it, which was deeper than she was tall. Steve went around the puddle, climbed the hill, and snatched her off the hill. She was cold and soaked to the skin. He quickly crossed all four lanes, passed the creek and then our road, climbed our drive, and then brought the kitten into the warmth of our house and to my hands.
She was possible 6-ish week's old, ginger colored, of a good weight; however; she has a huge infected wound on her belly and a small wound on her tail. We made her as comfortable as possible for her first night with us and the next morning she was off to the vets. We did not call animal control as where we live she would have been put down right away as they do not put any money into animals at all. We had her tested for kitty aids and leukemia as we already have cats in our home and if she had either of these, she would not have survived her wound and could have given these issues to our pets. She did not so we decided she would live with us.