On my way to be a kitty helper. Saw a post on Pet Pardons for this girl and since I work right around the corner, I am going to rescue her. Please contact me if you’d like to help with her vet bills and fees to collect her. I’ll also need help finding her furrever home!
All morning, Oliver stood guard in the kitchen by the stove while the turkey was warming up. He waited with those big, sully eyes while we cut it up. And his plate full of turkey drippings, white meat and savory skin was gone in 2.1 seconds.
While we were eating, he decided to watch over the turkey so none of the other cats could sneak in a recon mission. I heard him hiss at one or two of them and they both ran out of the kitchen. Who knew we had a turkey guard in the house?
Needless to say, his food coma from the feast was shortlived. He’s been back for seconds, and thirds. There will be no leftovers at this house. Happy Thanksgiving, Oliver. I know you’re glad to be in a rescue home awaiting a furrever family. It sure beats living under a trailer and behind the trashcan with your feral brothers and sisters.
Don’t worry, guys. I’ve got things under control.
Nothing like an afternoon siesta. This little guy loves his foster cat daddy!
So a cool thing happened today. I was in LA for a meeting and walked around downtown to kill time during rush hour. Saw a cool pet store named Pussy & Pooch so I wandered in. Low and behold, the crazy cat gods were smiling upon me. A wonderful organization called FixNation was having an event there for National Feral Cat Day. (They even had Malibu, but I digress).
And wonder of all wonders, Cat Daddy himself was making an appearance and doing an acoustical performance for guests. I donated to the cause and met a bunch of dedicated people, all fabulous and working to advocate TNR.
If you’re in the LA area and turn a blind eye when it comes to “strays” being someone else’s problem, these are the folks who step in to make sure it doesn’t become a problem. Kudos to FixNation, Jackson Galaxy and Pussy & Pooch for hosting the event.
I think Jackson should change his nickname. He’s really the Pied Piper of Pussy 🙂
Every kitten we take in gets lessons in good hygiene. Oliver is particularly fond of having his teeth brushed now. It’s helpful to start getting kittens acclimated to this so they stay healthy and don’t gross you out with nasty tuna breath!!
We also play beauty parlor every few weeks where they get brushed, bathed and have their nails clipped while sitting on a lap. Ear checks and Q-Tips are also part of beauty parlor day.
Happy Caturday!
Yeah! Almost all of the adult cats in our feral colony have been spayed/neutered! Since we can’t take all the kittens inside, we’ve tried befriending a few of the younger ones in hopes they’d adapt to people and socialize. Some have resisted but a couple were curious enough to let us get up close and personal with them.
Buddy has been an outstanding success. He camps out on our porch, follows us through the condo park area and plays with the toys we bring him. He’s got a healthy appetite and weighed in at seven pounds when we took him to the Spay/Neuter clinic two weeks ago. He’s much like his brother, Oliver, in that he purrs the instant you look at him. He loves rubbing up around your feet and getting love.
He’s about four months old now, has a flea collar and after I got him neutered, I also paid for Revolution to treat his ear mites. He’s such a handsome fellow. I know he’d love to call somewhere his furrever home!
Email us at kittykonfidential@gmail.com to make your kitty ❤ match with Buddy!
To me, rescuing animals became engrained into my essence of my being one day in 2006 when I received a call from an area vet rescue group I somehow ended up on. This is the story of love.
SOCK IT TO ME
On September 16, 2006, I received a call from the Emergency Vet Clinic asking if I could take in a newborn kitten that had arrived that day. I was told it probably wouldn’t make it and they really didn’t plan on anyone actually agreeing to pick it up. I was the last call they were making. I hesitated but something inside me pulled at going so I agreed to give it a shot and rushed down to the clinic.
A field mouse would be a more accurate description of this tiny thing; I was almost afraid to touch it. Its paws were so itty bitty, and one was a stark white in contrast to the rest of its shiny black fur. An umbilical cord was still attached. “We think the momma got spooked while moving it; or it’s the runt and was abandoned,” the vet tech told me. We had an uphill battle on our hands with this one and Rosie’s tragic ending taught me one thing: vigilance and dedication.
I put it inside one of my daughter’s castaway ankle socks. Then I stuck it in my bra. The body heat and warmth were crucial to this little one’s survival and I wasn’t taking any chances. When I arrived home and set it on the bedroom carpet, it let out the squeakiest mew and started wandering in a circle. Since baby kittens are blind and deaf at birth, it could only rely on smell. I set the bottle of formula down beside it; even the kitten bottle dwarfed this little creature.
It was famished and sucked down so much liquid, I thought its belly would burst. I wiped its mouth and stuck it back in the sock, then back in my bra. A little later, I took a Q-Tip and swabbed its bottom to help it go to the bathroom (babies can’t do that by themselves, either. They rely on the momma to lick them, stimulating the sensation to expel waste).
MISSION IMPAWSIBLE
Trying to determine its sex took a couple days since it was sooo small. Finally decided it was a girl and named her Hannah. The next couple weeks, I was back and forth at the vet. Hannah was a poopie-butt pirate. Diarrhea or constipation. She had an enema, then another one. Had to give her an IV to rehydrate her. Christine, the vet tech, gave her a fifty-fifty shot at surviving. I wasn’t giving up!
Her eyes opened, she started turning a few shades of brown and she graduated to a cat carrier with a heat pad and stuffed animal complete with a heartbeat. I took her to work with me every day. If I had a meeting and couldn’t take her, I left her with a secretary who had adopted another one of our rescues so I knew Hannah would be in good hands. She was friendly, curious, silly, full of life and loved being the center of attention. She had made it through the rough spots and come out a survivor!
Abi and Lola acted like surrogate moms to her. Licking her, chasing her around, teaching her to be a cat. She loved being part of the family. Our other female, Misty, tolerated her and eventually agreed to accept her. Although I’m sure she would’ve weaseled her way in regardless.
THE MAINE ATTRACTION
By this time, she was a couple months old so we got her spayed and ready to adopt out. Hannah now had strong markings of a Maine Coon mix, all longhair, tipped ears, a white beard and the white foot that turned a shade of blonde unlike any I’ve seen on a cat. Gorgeous and nothing like the little mouse she’d been the day I met her. The typical “Adopt Me” personal ad was sent out. A few people met her and she’d hiss at them, run behind me and freeze.
The gal at work said she’d already claimed me and said in all her years of cat ownership, she never saw a cat look at a person the way Hannah did at me. “You’re her momma.” I sighed. My heart already knew this. Hannah slept on my chest every night, rubbing her paws into my neck and nuzzling my chin. She claimed me. Although I vowed not to keep any cats after Abi and Lola, I figured I didn’t really have a choice. I was marked.
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Hannah is my youngest child. My baby. The past six years have been like raising a toddler into teendom. She swishes her tail around like a sassy pants, she only likes to drink water from a cup or water bottle while you pour it. She never developed her meow so she still squeaks like that baby mouse I brought home. When I come through the door and say “Mommy’s home” she rushes from wherever she is to be by my side. There really are no words to describe what she has brought to my life.
I can’t ever imagine not having Hannah. I’ve talked about having her cloned one day, having her stuffed or keeping her little blonde foot. It’s borderline, I know. I’ve taken a crazy cat lady jab or three. But who cares, nobody knows her like I do. She’s beyond my best friend, companion and pet. She’s my heart. And to think she was almost never given the chance to be.
THE FAST AND THE FURRY US
Hank was part of a trio my daughter and I rescued from the feral colony. Yep, the one behind our condo. I could just shoot people for letting unaltered cats roam. Would I be able to convince a jury it was justifiable? Or self defense, for the cats’ sake? Anyway, I digress.
Little grey Hank was caught by my daughter. She staked out the kittens wandering the retaining wall, and for several days kept an eye on them. I wasn’t there but she managed to jump over the retaining wall, engage him in a high-speed chase, catch him and bring him into our kitty lair, er I mean home.
He’s been traumatized ever since then but who wouldn’t be. Not that he isn’t spoiled, he has toys galore and what I lovingly refer to as Hanky Panky time where he rubs up against us and settles in on a lap for some love. But with his ear mite condition when we rescued him along with his sisters, constant cleaning was necessary to get the dead flakes out and make sure the canals stayed clean. He hasn’t trusted me ever since. Then of course, taking him in to get his nads snipped didn’t help our cause, either. I’ve caused him some major Cranky Hanky time.
CLAWSHANK REDEMPTION
He’s got a happy ending out there somewhere. Hank’s fur is so beautiful, long grey and with perfectly white paws and chest. Of course, bathing him with Paul Mitchell Moisturizing Tea Tree Shampoo and Conditioner got that brown fur sparkling clean. And his tail. Oh, lawd! It makes a raccoon’s look limp and lifeless.
Other than being traumatized living with us while he awaits his forever home, this Maine Coon mix loves perching on the highest level of the community kitty condo. He’s protective of his sister, Tabitha, when my alpha female decides to swish her tail and go in for a sneak attack. He sunbathes in the window, and he will follow me around when it’s feeding time. He LOVES breakfast and dinner when I bring out the wet food. He will talk my ear off.
I have high hopes for Hank finding a purrfect furrever home, somewhere he can trust, love and enjoy Hanky Panky time. Are you his type? Email me at kittykonfidential@gmail.com and see if there’s a kitty match with Hank in your future!
HAIRBALLS OF FURY
Frank and Oliver were part of the feral colony behind our condo building. After trapping seven cats and getting them fixed, then released, we thought we had the colony under control. Then one day, out came several kittens. *SIGH* Five in all, we started feeding them and tried building up some rapport and acclimating them to human friends. A few were receptive while a couple were like, “Get the heck away!”
One day before school (are you sensing a trend yet?) my youngest daughter came in with a dirty, white kitten. At 6:30am, I am awake but not quite in a ready to conquer the world kind of mind. Needless to say, I sprung out of bed and grabbed the kitten from her, took it in the bathroom and started our “rescue routine.”
Dirty Boy got a Paul Mitchell Tea Tree Moisturizing Shampoo and Conditioner bath. Filth and fleas were hopping off left and right. Underneath it all, a beautiful white coat shone through. I grabbed some wet food, watched him inhale it, put a litter box and blanket in the bathroom then left to take my daughter to school.
We ventured out to the car and, low and behold, another kitten was sitting up on the retaining wall. I moved in for the capture, grabbed the short-haired tabby and ran him in the house to join his brother. He was quiet, just looking up at me with big green eyes like I saved his life. And so I repeated the same steps…
After Green Eyes bath and feeding, both were huddled in the shower on their blanket. A bit skittish, they didn’t trust me just yet. Who could blame them? We stole them from their mama then violated their fur with water!
OLE BLUE EYES
With chocolate paws and bright blue eyes, our Dirty Boy became Frank. Those piercing blue eyes and sultry head nods are reminiscent of a certain Hollywood icon. And just as handsome, by the way. He’s not so much white as he is, what paint companies refer to as, eggshell in color.
Frank has a bit of a foot fetish, not sure why. My daughter has incredibly foul-smelling toes after a long day of wearing Toms, sneakers or her Docs. But somehow he doesn’t mind. He likes laying in front of the TV, so I’m figuring with the smelly shoe and TV thing, he would be perfect for the woman who wants a man but doesn’t want the lip and dirty laundry that goes with him.
YOU HAD ME AT MEOW
Oh, Oliver. Ollie Bear. You little short-haired bundle of love. He loves laps, naps and crawling in my caps. He’s a talker. If you don’t know about talkers, well let me tell you. They like to be heard. He’s not overly loud (like my own Maine Coon mix, Benji), but he will follow you around and talk your ear off.
He likes attention. Nay, he demands it… and we are sucked in by his cuteness and give it to him. Oliver’s a lanky boy but he LOVES to eat so I make sure he gets fed several times a day. It seems I’m his butler at times… he’s just fun to wait on hand and foot. And he’s so handsome. And sweet. And if someone doesn’t adopt him, I could soon become CRAZY CAT LADY!
IT’S MEOW OR NEVER
As I’ve been commuting back and forth from Scottsdale to Southern California, I didn’t have much choice other than to take these two with me in order to keep the AristoCATS in my house happy. So for a month, these two fellows became road warriors. From hotel hopping to six-hour car rides, they’ve logged in more than 2,000 miles. And they loved it.
Now that things have slowed down and I’m settling into a routine, they don’t travel as much I’m sure to their dismay. I think Oliver cries to get out just so he can go for a car ride. They’re relegated to my daughter’s room so they don’t pi$$ my alpha girl off (oh, she’s ANOTHER story) and so the quest for re-homing begins.
The brothers both love laser toys, feathers and rabbit fur. They can do any Matrix move and make it look even more bada$$ than the movies! Full of energy, these kittens will wear you out but you will love every moment of their kitten journey. When they’re older, they’ll catnap in the sun, snuggle with you and be your best friends.
In SoCal or the metro-Phoenix area? If you’re interested in adopting Frank and Oliver, email me at kittykonfidential@gmail.com
Have an ameowzing day!
kitty konfidential 