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Coloration: Ruddy
Likes: being with her humans
Favorite Nap Spot: the softest chair in the house
Favorite Food: sauteed chicken breast
Dwells:
indoors
Arrival Story: After Nikki, my sweet black pansy-faced cat, crossed the Rainbow Bridge at age 18, I couldn't face getting another cat right away. After a couple of years, when it was time to stop travelling all the time and create a sanctuary called home, I began to miss the gentle bedtime purr and sweet morning meow. I remembered a lithe and graceful cat I had met in my wanderings, a sweet Abyssinian with a gentle little meow. And I remembered another Aby with his curious reaching paw. It was time to bring an Aby into my life.
I researched and read about the breed, and loved ever word I read. I wanted a Red Aby. One June day, on a whim, I bought a red cat carrier, just in case. One fine July day, I drove to the nearest CFA show, just to to 'take a look,' but I brought the red carrier with me.
The show was overwhelming. So many cats, such fine grooming. Eyeshadow on a Rex? I thought I had seen everything, but that was a first. I talked with lots of Aby breeders. One fellow had beautiful red kittens, but alarm bells went off when I saw how feisty his cats were, and when he said that the cattery cages were in his garage.
I kept returning to one breeder who had a sweet Ruddy female. I wanted Red, but this cat had charm. The breeder let me hold her, and when the sweet, petite kitten nestled close and began purring, loud and lusty, like a diesel truck going uphill, I laughed. I was hooked.
The breeder grilled me properly about my cat experience and I asked my own tough questions. I learned that Wylde Phyre had been raised 'underfoot' in the house, and was accustomed to playing in the sunroom. My own conservatory was under construction at the time, and I assured her that the kitten would have a sunny, indoor playroom of her own. We talked through all the other questions, and found ourselves of like mind on most things. I watched the kitten be judged one final time (Red ribbon), signed the contract, and went out to the car to get the red carrier.
On the ride home, we mused about her name. Wylde Phyre was just too twee, and I can't imagine myself as one who 'ran calling Wylde Phyre' when I wanted to call for my cat. On the ride home, we tentatively decided on Marigold, but weren't positive. At home, I had a book of cat names, 'just in case.'
Page 1, looking through the A's. AMBER! Stop right there. That's the right name!
Lives Remaining: 8 of 9
Forums Motto: Born bad and got worse
The Groups I'm In: Abyssinian Unite, The Order of the Black Cat
I've Been On Catster Since:
So far I am having fun on my fourteenth purrthday. Mom and I had a long snuggle in bed this morning, and then I had a dish of chicken pot pie for breakfast. Yummm.
I am having a birthday tea this afternoon. Auntie Nina and Simba have been invited. I wonder what Mom is going to make. One year we had salmon sandwiches and they were so good. You can leave the bread off mine, please.
Mom taught Auntie Nina how to make catnip bombs. These are my favorite toys of all time. Simba and I took careful notes on how to do this, but I am having a bit of trouble making sense of my notes tonight. I think I had too much catnip. Let's see--and maybe Mom will correct me. And I don't mean by telling me to get my butt off the computer.
1. Gather your supplies:
Lots of catnip
Scraps of poplin or chintz fabric. Please wash it first because the raw fabric tastes icky.
Lots of catnip
String
A pack needle
Did I say LOTS OF CATNIP?
2. Cut 6 inch squares of fabric and place them face down on the table.
3. Put 2 generous tablespoons of catnip in the middle of each square.
4. Let cat into the middle of the square to schnuffle up the catnip.
(NO, Amber, that's not how it goes.)
Oh, alright.
4. Gather up the fabric so that the catnip is in a lump, and wrap the string three times around to secure the lump.
5. Thread the end of the string into the pack needle and sew back and forth so that the string will stay on.
6. Your catnip bombs is belong to us.
7. Roll around with wild abandon on the carpet.
8. Repeat from...zzzzzzzzz....
Well, that's what my notes say.
Why are these called catnip bombs? I say because they are da' bomb. Mom says its because when I really chew them up, they 'go off' all over the carpet.
I am so sorry to have been quiet for a long time. I have been very busy keeping Mom from being too sad. You see, Grannie had a lot of trips in and out of the hospital and she used up all of her nine lives back in April. So, Mom has been sad and I have been very busy purring for her and trying to make her smile by being a silly cat.
Lately, things have been better. Mom has finally met some of her neighbors and is very chummy with one who is mom to a very interesting Bengal fellow. He and I take turns visiting each other, and the moms sketch us or work on other creative projects. Simba is a bit pushy, and I have had to hiss at him a few times, but he is rather sweet. His apartment has a terrace, and mine has a dining room with lots of windows, so we have a pleasant change of scenery.
Mom still goes out to dinner with G. whenever she can, but I think they go to vegetarian restaurants, because there are never any interesting bits brought home to me. She said that he will be my guardian if she runs out of lives before I do. What about you cats? Will there be someone to take care of you if anything happens to your families and have you met your prospective guardians? G. is very nice. He brushed my fur and said kind things to me. I'd rather keep Mom around forever, but I think we all got worried about the future when Grannie crossed over.
I think I'm going to go play with the orange mousie that Simba's mom gave me. It makes Mom laugh when I pretend it is a real mouse.
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