Age: 8 Years Sex: Male Weight: 20 lbs.
|Home:Long Beach, CA ||[I have a diary!] |
Leave a treat for Attila the Hun
Catster stats for Attila the Hun
1 time 15
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|-purebred||-disabled ||-cat rescue|
June 21st 2008
Being as close to his human Mommy as possibly.
Litterboxes, his food in high up places, rain
Acorns. Acorns acorns acorns!!
Favorite Nap Spot:
Mooshed up next to his Mommy on the couch
Raw chicken liver and salmon skin
Besides to always brighten Mom's day, he can out run cougars and get hit by cars
Attila's mommy was one of many expensive and gorgeous cats owned by your stereotypical old cat lady. She passed away and many of her cats moved into my yard, and mommy Maine Coon decided to have and abandon two kittens in my BBQ. We found them when they were five days old, and Attila has been my baby since that moment.
One of the houses we lived in was on a hill backed up against the forest. Summer of 2009, a cougar came down the hill and picked off the house cats residing in our area. Attila was the only one who we didn't find remains of, but my baby who ALWAYS came home at night was gone for three whole weeks. When I finally was starting to give in to the fact that I may never see him again, a bent up fluffy skeleton came home to me, crying and crying, but only wanted to be held by me and didn't even want to eat. At the bottom of the hill is a busy street. Attila would normally have never left our yard, but to escape the cougar he ended up getting lost and hit by a car. The theory is that he laid up in some bushes until enough scar tissue built up around his leg that it would support his weight. Then he drug himself back up the hill and into my arms. He won't be able to get surgery until his bones are done growing, but at this point, almost a year later, he is catching birds again (bell collar and all) and gets around with an almost unnoticeable limp. I love him more than anything.
7 of 9
Mommy? Mommy! MOMMY!!
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I've Been On Catster Since:
|April 4th 2010
||More than 6 years!
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July 13th 2010 7:22 am
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Six in the morning. Dogs are chewing happily on fresh raw meaty bones, cat is meowing endlessly, and I sip my stress-relief green tea. This has been a difficult summer for me and my little family. We've done a bit of moving, went months where we weren't all under the same roof, had to deal with me going from unemployed and having all of the time in the world to being full time and exhausted. My depression has risen back up with my stress levels, and I know my family feels the bulk of it but they never say a word. We moved into a new big house this summer, closer to our favorite trails and with new friends to play with. My family relaxed, happy to be out of our tiny apartment. However, this has only been a sublet and it's time to move again in three weeks, and there isn't a single house available in the county that allows dogs. Especially large ones.
"Meeooow meow mrowrow mrow meeeeeeeeooooooooooooooww...!"
Attila's opera continues to serenade my morning. Tyson and Eden have consumed their bones and not Eden is trying fruitlessly to get Tyson to play tug-o-war. Ty does not understand the concept of biting down and holding on to something. He is incredibly delicate with his huge jaw and the idea of yanking on a rope baffles him, despite how beneficial it would be for his muscles. I get up and try to assist Eden, but Tyson is only more confused and resistant, which makes me wonder if at some crucial puppy moment I trained him away from this. Sitting back down I think about everything I've ever done wrong with my animals, tuning out the growling and horrendous noises that come of two very large dogs playing. I think about things I could be doing better with Sassy, problems of her's that I need to address, new methods of training I should have used years ago. Attila jumps up into the chair next to me; he hasn't stopped talking for even a second, but now he taps me lightly to get my attention and rambles on in my face. Imagining what he is saying is fun sometimes, but this morning he is complaining about me and I know it.
And then a growl. A deep, gut-trembling growl that I have only heard a couple times, and it sends electric fear up and down my spine. The last time I heard that growl I had to pry Eden's head out of Tyson's jaws, so I jump up and spin around, looking for something to hit him with if the worst happens. However, it's not fighting dogs I see. Eden refused to give up with his big knotted rope toy, and somehow managed to get Tyson holding on to the other end. Like competitive brothers they yanked and tugged, Eden much more adversed and powerful, but allowing Tyson some slack as he got used to the concept. Sitting down, I'm smiling. Seven in the morning and Tyson has learned something new today.
Attila taps me again. He is STILL meowing. Telling me about....oh something, I'm sure.
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