Photo Comments (3)Sex: Female
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December 6th 1967
October 11th 1970
When my first child started crawling -- that waving plume of a tail right at eye level was just too much to resist. Jezebel was pretty patient about that, considering she was over 10 by then.
** With Angel Pierre, plays with the Rodent Rippers Mouse Hockey Team **
Mom used to buy her raw liver & freeze it in individual servings. Jezy loved that so much that one day she filched the little package from the counter where it was thawing, worked the tinfoil wrapping open, and had a feast.
In her younger years she was a prolific catcher of flies. The clubfoot paw was a very effective weapon.
A kind woman had found a mother cat & and small kittens, abandoned in the snows of an Ontario winter. Just as the kittens were old enough to be without her, the mother had been killed on the road and the woman was looking for homes for the kittens. About this time, about a year after losing Pierre, my parents finally gave in to my pleading for another cat & had found this lady's ad. Dad said I could pick out the kitten I liked best. Well, the one I liked best turned out to be a little ball of tortoiseshell fluff with one ear (the other lost to frostbite, as had happened to another one of the kittens as well), a bald patch on her face (frostbite damage again) and a clubfooted paw. My Dad said she was the homeliest of the lot and tried to change my mind. But it was love at first sight, and I knew that the other, prettier kittens would be much more likely to find a home than this little one. When we got her home, my Mom said "she looks like she's full of attitude" and promptly dubbed the new arrival "Jezebel".
When the family made the move across the country from Ontario to BC, instead of working to convince me that there were plenty of cats in BC, too, my parents had my furry best friend flown across the country for me -- that was an education for her, as were the many life changes that she went through with me.
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For childhood Angels everywhere
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May 20th 2014 12:16 pm
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No pictures can be found of this little one, who did not live long on this earth (October 1965 – June 15, 1966) but left lasting memories of soft cuddles, purrs, and happy playtimes. This is a poem our Mom wrote at about 11 years old, in honour of her little guy:
Pierre he came on the 25th
A Christmas present was he
He was black and white with a small moustache
And the tiniest black goatee
He never me-owed, but always me-Awed
And ate his food with his paw
When he did he was the funniest thing
That anyone ever saw
And then one night he stayed out all night
And didn’t even go very far
While crossing the street in front of our house
He was hit and killed by a car
May Pierre rest in peace (he deserves to, you know)
In the yard of the Corby plant
And may his grave remain untouched
By even the tiniest ant.
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