Family. I don’t want to be the spinster cat lady.
I love my cats immensely and have had many over the years – Siamese, tabbies, black cats, adopted teenage cats from rescue programs and older mature cats. I’ve also had an assortment of dogs – boxers, greyhounds and a Maltese terrier.
At the moment I have three and that’s one too many and wayyyyy too close to me being the living, breathing spinster cat lady.
The first two cats are adoption failures – I specifically went to a rescue cat program website to see if they had black kittens. Each time I was on the website swooning over 12 weeks old black kittens, arranging to meet the foster carer to view a female black kitten, I was drawn to a tabby teen (18 months plus) who seemed to be calling my name. To be choosing me – “saying take me home” which I was adamant that I wanted a black kitten.
Fours years ago, I was holding two fluffy, glorious bundles of black kittens when I was introduced to “Crystal” – she was all wrong! Her name for a start – she was not glamorous, she was 3 years old, a tabby and extremely confident and owning her space. She walked straight up to me purring and stood on her back legs demanding attention. Being the soft touch in am, I picked her up – she immediately head butted (also know as headhunting) and licked me. Yep she owned me from the start – she turned out to be a little thug who loves attention (she’s a tart) and keeps me in line. I renamed her Candy – wrong – I should have named her Queen coz she keeps us all Under her control – all loving, cuddles and head butting. Candy sleep beside me when Im distressed, will run to me to stop me crying – tough love with head butting and licking my tears until I stop (I know – gross – but she’s owns my arse).
Next failure -12 months later in 2016 – same website with black kittens – yet another tabby teen caught my attention. NO NO NO – black kitten not a tabby teen – I thought I had it sorted when I went to the foster carers house – only black kittens. Then she bought out the tabby teen and I could not resist – she was glorious. So home I go with no black kitten – again a failure. This darling little girl was 18 months and completely scared of her own shadow. Candy totally and utterly ignored her – she seemed to be saying “yo harden up you soft princess – toughen up” – yet again another female in the house was dominated by Candy. This teens miaow was so wonderful I called her “Mia” – short for Miaow.
That was it for me! I had failed and I refused to have three cats – waaaay too close to the crazy cat lady. I would not look at pet rescue sites and, anyway, black kittens are so boring……….
Christmas 2018 I had some bad, devastating news, January 2019 saw me feeding my addiction – same pet rescue website, most like yet same bloody black kittens. Coz they’re all the bloody same.
Yet again I fell for one photo and name – Phoebe – timid, shy, runt of the litter and always hiding and refusing to come out of her hidey hole or picked up. 13 weeks old, despite my continual protestations, desperate avoidance of having three cats I ended up adopting her. She was so weak that she almost didn’t survive her operation from desexing, a tiny bundle of bones and glorious black, soft fur. True to the description Phoebe hid for the first three to four weeks and I let Candy and Mia show her the ropes, encourage her to come out and basically be big sisters. I truly thought it would be Mia and Phoebe who bonded. How wrong was I??? The tiny, black, petrified kitten gravitated to the Thug life – another arse that Candy owned!
So. Mia and I are owned and controlled by Candy with her little bitch offsides Phoebe. We never stood a chance. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Jokes on me. And unfortunately little Mia – she gets thumped regularly but is starting to standup for herself which is good. Phoebe attacks Candy and they roll around on the rugs play fighting and practicing their conquer and control techniques.
They are all different personalities (very fitting) and each give me different types of love, affection and support. Weird huh? Candy is my emotional thermostat – she knows before I do when I’m upset and comforts me. Mia is my baby who calms my heart beat. Phoebe is the clown of the house – she’s slowly letting me pick her up and snuggling into her. It takes time.
Each cat has forced me to be mindful – careful and quiet as loud noises startle everyone but Candy. Each cat gives me different support and we all stand together as each other’s pillars of strength. I am often reminded that, before they died mum, nana and I used to call us the Three Warriors – Pillars of Strength.
I’m absolutely grateful for these gifts. Next I’ll tell you why it’s dangerous to be one of my pets or anywhere near my inner circle. 🤣🤣🤣🤦🏼♀️
Thanks for listening.
Phoebe (Thug in training)