Both of my cats are “unadoptables” because they were feral as kittens therefore less socialized to humans, and also had health issues (crazy bad ringworm) when I got them.  They wouldn’t have stood a chance in a shelter and even now probably wouldn’t.

If you have an opening in your feline lineup, please consider heading to a shelter and giving a cat a home.

You can also help shelter cats by answering trivia questions at FreeKibbleKat.com.

Also, remember to have your pets spayed or neutered, especially spayed.  Kittens are fluffy little miracles, but two years can turn a household of one male and two female cats into a madhouse of 70.  There are just not enough good homes!  If you want to be able to have more cats, there’s still no need to make them–you can go to a shelter, they have more than they know what to do with.  Most shelters have to euthanize hundreds or even thousands of those fluffy little miracles every year just to make room because more keep coming in.  Those kittens need less competition for shelter space, and they need heroes to take them home.

A sample:

Born: ?????

He was already a grown cat when I got him as a stray with no history.  We couldn’t find any way to tell what age he might be, so I have no idea when he was born.

Became my kitty-buddy: Early 2006

My sister found him in the Wal-Mart parking lot, meowing pitifully.  We strongly suspect he was dumped, because a few months later, he was missing for three weeks, for reasons unknown, and came home; any cat that remembered how to find his new home after three weeks didn’t get hopelessly lost on his own.  One theory was that his owner had died and the heirs didn’t want him, since he seemed to have been well cared for until recently–he was fixed and had what looked like old, well-healed scars from a line of stitches on his jaw.  But we never figured out why anyone would not want such a sweet cat.

While he was missing for three weeks, I got Squirrel and Panther, because I thought by then (2 1/2 weeks in) that he just wasn’t coming back.  As a result, Chilsa and the kittens didn’t take to each other right away, because he thought they were the intruders (he was there months before them) and they thought he was the intruder (they were there days before him).  However, he immediately started standing guard in the window and yowling at other cats to stay away.  He’d never done that before and I had to figure that he felt protective.  A week or so later, they were playing together and he was teaching them how to be cats.

Died: March 3, 2009

He seemed completely normal and healthy all day.  Looking back, he never asked to be let out, so now I wonder if he knew something was coming and wanted to spend all day with his family.

He spent the night before, and much of the morning, curled up by my feet.  He did this most nights.

During the day, he “helped” me with a crochet project, licked my arm, chased the kittens around, curled up on my lap…did all the normal things that were part of his kitty life.  He continued to bounce around for most of the evening, until I heard a thump across the room, looked up, and saw that my big grey cat was laying down funny.

I went over to see if he needed help.  At first he could only move his head, then not even that.  I flicked his tail, petted him, rubbed his ears, trying to get a response.  I talked to him, and he tried to talk back–I heard what sounded like it almost would have been a meow but his mouth wouldn’t quite open.  One moment his eyes were looking at me; the next moment, his eyes were empty.  My kitty-buddy was gone.

At least he had a good last day.  At least he didn’t have time to suffer.  At least…at least…a million at leasts don’t change the fact that it’s so quiet without him to start up a game of chase with the other two.

I will never again come home and find Chilsa waiting either by the door or, if I’m running late, out by my parking.  He did that for the last time on Monday night, when I got home from CAP at about 10, and walked with me, almost tripping me a few times, to the apartment door.

I will never again have to tell him not to bite my arm after licking a few times.  I’d let him bite me a dozen times a day if it meant I’d have him back.

I will never again have to divert him licking away from my nose.  I’d put up with cat breath if it meant I’d have him back.

I will never again almost have to fight with him for the phone while I talk to my boyfriend.  I’m not sure how Chilsa knew, but he would rub up against the phone when Thomas called.  They got along fine, the time they were around each other, but I didn’t think cats used phones.

He loved living here–at the old apartment, he was indoor-only.  Here, I let him go outside, where there are trees to climb and birds to watch.  He would sit on the steps and look at the grass area next to the dumpster, where one of the older ladies in the complex leaves birdseed out; it was his Food Channel.

He’s done shredding carpets, chasing the kittens, sticking his face in catnip-filled scratching pads, and following me to the laundry room.  Exactly what he’s doing now, I don’t know, but there would have to be a serious design flaw in the universe for him not to have a soul, especially given some of the people that, by all accepted standards, do.

If there’s any fairness, it involves playing with kittens or being cuddled by someone.  Maybe with some catnip.

Good-bye, Chilsa.

The cats behaved well and enjoyed the treat.  Today they seemed to be asking for more; they were sniffing at the bowls I fed them in and meowing at me.  No, you little beggars, that was a special occasion, you’ve got plenty of kitty kibble.   Squirrel’s been letting me pet her more lately–the day before yesterday she even walked onto my lap with all four paws.  That kitten may turn out cuddly yet.

There was no TV watching as the TV is still not hooked up (still haven’t scraped together the $300 deposit).  This is for the best as I’m sure Christmas toy ads have become insanely obnoxious, and I get to miss them this year.  Hooray!

–United States Constitution [emphasis added]

All the qualifications for President apply only to people.  There’s nothing in there saying that only a person can be President, and nothing specifically ruling out any species, including felis domesticus…so…ladies, gentlemen, and Martians, I would like to nominate, running for the Kibble Cruncher Party and holding firm positions on animal rights, hunting, libraries, and free veterinary care, and promising to visit a vet regularly to keep from being corrupted by the poly ticks, the next President of the United States…Chilsa!

However, as I was stumbling upon the internet, I found these little guys.  The couple that found and adopted a cat, not knowing about her existing occupants (Mom, Dad, and Rianna, you all remember Marmalade, right?), is looking for homes for the litter.  As of about a month ago, three were still not spoken for.  Click the kittens to go to the original story for more details.

Seriously.  Click it.  They’re at their cutest bounciest stage by now, you know you want one.  I’d ask about the orange one myself if I weren’t already one cat over the management company’s limit.

This particular pest control professional seemed to be just barely out of kittenhood, as well as accustomed to crazy tourists (probably they usually come bearing gifts of fish and chips, but an ear rub was also accepted).

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