Cat-tastic

Kat asked me to talk more about... cats. And I'll put together a few entries over the next few days, but we'll start with an easy one--

My life history, by way of our family cats.

In my thirty one years less three weeks of life, I don't remember a time where there wasn't a cat in my family. The gaps do exist when I was really little, but only by a year or so, and mostly because we had a couple of problem cats before the long-term cats came in. And other than the six years of dorm/college apartment life, I've always had a cat physically living with me and considering me his/her slave. The five I have now is definitely the all-time record for current catload. It's about the max I'd want to have. I can't cater to any more than this.

I honestly can't imagine life without at least one of them, though. Those first few weeks of college without a cat purring on my pillow at night was probably the most difficult thing I ever adjusted to-- even more than sharing a bedroom with someone else.

The feline family lineage (from my side of the family) is as follows-

Moko- I don't actually remember Moko, but I've always heard stories about her. My mom and dad adopted her in the summer of '69 when they were living in a ratty apartment just up the hill from UC Berkeley. They were newly married. My dad was out of medical school and was starting his residency at Kaiser Oakland. My mom was a nurse. Moko was a "troublesome torti" in all senses of the word. She was cranky and full of mischief. But when I was only a few months old, she ran away into the night from our Dublin, California home one night and never returned.

Bilbo- Two years later, we'd moved to Montana where my dad was setting up a private practice. Mom brought home Bilbo, who was a male purebred seal point Siamese. I got along great with Bilbo. Tons of photos exist of me sitting in the toybox or on the couch (usually with something retarded on my head) with Bilbo. I'm certain that he taught me how to speak to cats, too. Being Siamese, he talked a lot. A bit too much for my mom. When I was five, we had to give Bilbo away, though-- when my brother arrived, Bilbo became extremely jealous and would try to attack Scott. :(

Callie- Callie was the first cat I picked out when I was six. Mom felt very guilty that she'd had to give Bilbo away, and she knew that I had loved the cat. So she took me down to the local pound and let me pick out a kitten. I fell in love with a little calico (aren't half of the Calicos out there named Callie?). For a while, she was the only cat. But she was extremely territorial, and once the next two kittens came in, problems started. It turned out that we simply weren't the right home for her. One of my dad's patients happily took her to her farm to become a barn cat, where she lived out her days growing fat on mice and having a ball.

Kelim and Kashan- The first pairing of cats. They arrived in 1982. They aren't littermates, but we got them three months apart from each other, and they lived their lives as brothers.

Kashan actually came first-- he was a beautiful shell cameo Persian (think all white with a sploch of coffee stain down the spine) with the deepest copper eyes I've ever seen. Unlike a lot of Persians, Kashan's face didn't look like he hit a door at 80 miles per hour-- he was a purebred, but his face was a bit rounded.

Kelim was a purebred seal-point Himalayin. Over the years, his points expanded and he developed dark patches beyond the traditional Siamese pointing pattern. My father said that it came from his father. Kelim had mist-blue eyes that were slightly crossed, and definitely had the Siamese in his voice.

Kelim and Kashan, as well as the next two cats, were all named from an oriental rug book. My mom thought that since they were Persians (of a sort) that it was fitting. :)

Kashan was Scott's guardian angel cat. He hung out all the time with Scott, soothing him when he cried, guarding him as he slept. Likewise, Kelim was my cat. He slept with me every night, letting me use him as a pillow. Both cats were indoor/outdoor cats and lived to healthy old ages (for the time). Kashan died at the age of 12 after a long illness. Kelim held on until age 14, finally dying of kidney failure.

Bijar and Kula - The day after the 1989 Loma Prieta quake in California, these two kittens were born. Bijar, or "Biji" as she's called, is a seal-point Himalayin and a bitch-on-wheels (affectionately-- she's so small, it's hysterical to watch her have temper tantrums). Kula, her slightly larger littermate sister, is a blue-point who is a complete and utter space cadet. Scott and I first met them for Christmas in 1989 when we spent our second Christmas with my mom after she returned to California. Kula has always been my mom's cat. Biji seemed to be the "anyone" cat, but has always beelined for me whenever I'm visiting. At age 16, both girls are still alive, although they are now aging and in decline. They still live happily with my mom and the growing family.

Colorado - Colley is the first cat I've had as an adult. He's a purebred Norwegian Forest Cat and is now six. He is the alpha male in our family, and lets everyone-- including Erich-- know that I am HIS human. Erich marvels at how Colley follows me around everywhere. He's like a dog. And he'll talk to me all day. The two features about him that always amuse me are his multi-colored toe pads (every single one is a different shade, ranging from light pink to black) and his mood nose-- it actually changes, depending on his mood. The more hyper or stressed he is, the brighter pink it gets. Mom and I bought him in Philadelphia on Thanksgiving weekend 1999.

Archie - Archie is my mom's golden tabby Maine Coon. He's a big boy-- 16 pounds of solid muscle and fur. He's a bit skittish, but still has all of the clownish qualities of a Coon cat. He's five, and the big man of mom's house, guarding Biji and Kula in their old age.

Ladigo, Susie, and Lily - At the same time Mom got Archie, two barn cats entered my dad's life. Laddy and Susie weren't littermates, but were born in the same barn only a few days apart. Lily came about six months later, when Susie decided that she much preferred the barn lifestyle. I've only met them once in person, but often hear them chatting away behind my dad whenever we chat on the phone.

Mephista - Fizzy is our little frail kitty. She's four years old, although she's fallen into middle age a bit young, I fear. She's quite timid, prefers quiet spaces, and likes gentle rubs. Perhaps it's because she's originally a Harvard University feral-- her mom must have enjoyed creeping around the library, I suppose. At first glance she appears black, although she's actually a mink brown tabby with a grey undercoat. We've had lots of adventures with Fizz, starting with Pronoun Crisis of 2002.

Augustus - Two weeks after my grandmother died in 2003, Erich rolled a random encounter on the tiny table (sorry, gamer speak... but really, it's the best way to describe it). We named him Gus. Gus, now aged 2, is proving all of the vets who age cats in "cat years" wrong. Gus has been a perpetual "troublesome two" since about six weeks old. Only now, he has somewhere around 14 pounds of weight to throw around to cause chaos. He's a lover cat, though, with the most amazing rumble of purr you'll ever hear. He's also completely gay. He only loves the boys. He'll settle for me in desperate times, though.

Nobanion and Eldath - The most recent twosome to come into our lives are now five months old. They're also known as the Cow Kittens (reason obvious once you see their markings). These two tag team like crazy-- usually on Gus, which Fizzy appreciates because he's not pestering her as much anymore.

Noby is the larger of the two at about 5.5 pounds. He's already a lap cat with me, and a big lover boy to everyone. His favorite way to express is to run right up and give you a full slobbery face rub. His most amusing feature is a group of spots that distinctly look like the Mickey Mouse logo on his shoulders.

Ellie is a gentler kitten than her rowdy brother, but she also has a tendency to romp wild at times. She's the softest cat I've ever touched-- her fur is so dense and plush, and she feels like a cotton ball. She's also imprinted on Erich as a dry nurse. It's quite amusing. No one believes me until they see it-- and then they just crack up laughing. Poor Erich's not sure what to do, but he often cries out for help because he's being "attacked" by cuteness.


Thank Goddess I don't have cat allergies (*knocks on wood*), eh?