NaNo Output

Nov. 2nd, 2010 07:40 am
redwing_badger: (Badger: Chaos and Anarchy)
[personal profile] redwing_badger
Zero words. It's okay though, it's only the second day. I have another, NaNo related question for you, if you don't mind. Also, spoilers for my novel ;)

It's centred around cats. Trust me, it'll be better than it sounds. What I need to beg my Flist for, or at least, those of you who own or have owned cats, is to tell me about your cats. I need more than just two cats here, and if no one minds sharing, I'd like to hear about yours. Any favourite stories, cute moments, how you got your cats, how previous cats have passed on (if it's not too painful), your cats' likes, dislikes, ridiculous habits they have, etc.

Speaking of cats, HOLY SHIT BALLS, THERE ARE EYES HOVERING NEAR ME IN THE DARK! JESUS CHRIST CHAOS, DON'T DO THAT!

With your permission, I'd like to borrow bits and pieces of your stories (or just cameo your cat(s), if you like) to flesh out the kitty characters in my novel. If you'd rather I just used your input to influence the kitties in this year's NaNo, that's fine too. Please drop your stories in the comments here. I'm giving you a free for all to talk about your kitties, so post as much as you want, it would be greatly appreciated.

<3, Badger

Date: 2010-11-02 02:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ginny305.livejournal.com
*points to icon* That's Simon. She's a girl. Her predecessor was Alvin. Simon is a pretty easygoing cat and the only one that gets along with the oldest cat in the house. If you take her with you in the car, there are only two places she'll sit: under the driver's feet or on the front passenger seat - and she doesn't share. Simon hates collars. She once hid hers under the neighbor's bushes. She's also a vindictive bitch. My mother took her out of a laundry basket of clean clothes and she immediately went downstairs and peed on clean towels. But, overall, she's a pretty good cat. Simon likes boxes - if she sees a box, she thinks it's hers, and to sleep on top of shoes.

Simon's mom is Tiara. Tiara is batshit insane. Can't even describe how crazy this cat is (luckily Simon takes after her dad). Tiara spent most of her life as an indoor cat. When she'd go out, she'd run about ten feet, stop and look around in terror before running back as she remembered that she's afraid of outside. If the door was closed, she'd pound on it frantically. About six weeks ago one of her other personalties took over, she gained some weight and now she likes to go outside. It's been an abrupt change for a cat that we've had for nine or ten years. My favorite memory of her is her sitting on the back of a chair that was next to the door that led between the living room and the kitchen. If it was at night, she'd wait their to ambush you and slowly reach out and brush her paw against you when you walked past (and didn't see her because it was dark). My mother's screams once woke the house.

Alvin was my first cat. He was awesome. He was the hunter of the cats. I got him the day before I turned two as a Christmas present and loved him more than my sisters for a very long time. He used to bring me birds that he'd killed (usually by waking me up in the middle of the night so he could come in and drop it a my feet - once the bird was still alive [unpleasant at 3am]). The day after he killed a blue jay they lined up on the wires that went through the backyard and stalked the cats. Definitely understand how Hitchcock got his inspiration. Despite all this, he was terrified by the rabbit. Never could figure that one out. Other small animals? They did not have happy lives in my house. He once got one out of it's cage without getting the lid off - no idea how. Another he killed while my sister was playing with it. Just walked past, swiped at her/it (she still has a scar) and the thing was a goner. He was kind of a bad cat, but I loved him. I have a picture of him on my wall sitting in his butter box next to the picture of Simon sitting in her Jif box. (I have since promised my mother that Theodore will be a boy.)

Lexi is the new cat. She loves everyone. Never had a cat as nice as this one. Two nights ago she got out and ended up down the block on the third floor of an apartment building where she promptly made more friends. Our morning routine usually has her racing up the stairs when she hears my door and divebombing me to get inside. She has pretty good accuracy considering that half the time the door is barely open.

Date: 2010-11-02 03:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] emmaorgana.livejournal.com
KITTIES!

I have had kitties in my life for... always.

Our first cat was Marmalade. She was a long-hair orange kitty, who died of cancer when I around 2 and a half. I don't rememeber her very much.

Our next cat was a boy, short-haired, orange, named Hobbes (from Calvin and Hobbes). My dad picked him out, even though he told my mom he didn't want another cat. Apparently Hobby was the only kitty at the Humane Society who was just chilling in his cage-area. My dad liked how cool he was, so we brought him home. I was around three, and I vaguely remember that Hobbes was in a cardboard box when we brought him home and his head pushed out of the hole in the middle of the top and there were moments of panic in the car. :p

He was a super-sweet kitty. He was an indoor-outdoor cat who killed a lot of birds and chipmunks. He is the reason we didn't have chipmunks in our yard, actually. He used to curl up on my bed at night, on my chest and purr like crazy and drool on me. And I hated that he drooled on me, but I loved that he slept with me and snuggled with me, so I let him stay. I kept a box of kleenexs by the bed to wipe his face. :p He had a lot of health problems... for a few years before he died, he'd get lumps on the back of his neck, and I didn't know what that meant. My parents would get them surgically removed, but they kept coming back. Eventually they told us it was cancer, and that Hobbes wan't going to live much longer. We probably should have put him to sleep, but we didn't. Ugh, he was in so much pain. He spent the last day of his life sleeping in our family room in the sun. It was Feburary 13th 1997 when he passed away. I came down for breakfast after waking up from school and my mom told me he died. I knew it was coming, but I still went into shock, and only cried because I thought it was what she expected me to do. I went to school, and as I was walking home, I just broke down, sobbing and gasping because he wasn't going to be there for me when I got home. My dad was driving home from work, saw me, and stopped the car in the middle of the road so he could help. I wore black on Valentine's day and didn't tell my friends why.

Two months later, my great-grandma died. On July 2nd of that year, my parents split up. 1997 sucked.


About a year after Hobbes died, in 1998, my mom adoped a new cat. The name on her adoption papers was Sweet Pea, but that didn't fit her at all. She is a fiesty, crotchity, Diva-kitty, who demands your attention now! She is a small (even now, at almost 15, she barely weighs 8 lbs) diluted calico. We think she must have come from an abusive household because she doesn't like strangers very much, especially men. She wouldn't let John near her while he was wearing a hat. She meows like crazy and is a "typical" calico: rather standoffish until she wants attention. She is the queen of our neighborhood (she is also an indoor/outdoor cat) and gets into a lot of cat fights keeping her territory safe. She has kitty-asthma and she coughs a lot, especially at night when she's relaxing.

When we first got her, mom let her outside and she went missing for a few days, we were all panicking, until Rachel saw her out at the back of our lot, on the fence between our house and the neighbors. She went out and snatched Kitty up. We later discovered that Kitty went missing simply because she didn't know how to ask to get back inside the house. :p

My mom and Kitty have an extra-special bond. We call Kitty mom's Daemon (like from The Golden Compass) and say that she is mom's spirit-animal. :p

One time Kitty jumped up onto my mom's bed in the middle of the night and my mom heard this tiny squeaking sound, and because my mom wakes up at night if you breathe too loudly, she of course sat up and turned on the light to discover that Serafina (as I christened her about five years ago) had brought my mother a live mouse as a present in the dead of the night. The mouse ended up escaping somewhere into the house while my mom jumped up, and Serafina sat on the corner of the bed, pleased with herself.

Part 2

Date: 2010-11-02 03:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] emmaorgana.livejournal.com
Serafina is around 15 now, still goes outside when she pleases, still demands we attend to her every whim. She takes a pill for her asthma every other day. She has a constant grumpy look on her face, but can still kick butt in a kitty-fight.

My dad has had a lot of cats since he and my mom seperated. He adopted the first of them in 2004, when he started dating Patti. They were two black kittens from the same litter, one of which was the runt. He named them Jem and Scout (from To Kill a Mockingbird, his favorite book). Jem was such a lover-boy. Super snuggly, easy to pick up and hug, he had a chunky face and loved to eat. Scout was a little more standoffish, only really loving my Dad at first, then growing to love everyone else more slowly. He was a gorgeous cat, with a face like an Egyptian Pharoh cat. Eventually my dad let them both outside, which they loved, even though Scout would get stuck in trees and mew until Patti would put the ladder up. They were so sweet to each other, licking each other's faces and play-fighting and snuggling together to sleep.

My dad moved from East Lansing suburbs out to "the sticks" in Perry. He continued to let the cats out, and within the first week, Jem disappeared. We never saw him again. Scout was desolate, but my dad kept letting him out. We were all really upset. I miss that cat so much.

About a week before Jem disappeared, my dad and Patti went to a tractor-pull/farm animal thing and came back with a tiny white kitten. This poor cat was barely 8 weeks old and was on the verge of dying of starvation. Patti nursed her back to health by handfeeding her through the night for about a week. Eventually they named her Boo Radley. Boo-Kitty for short. Boo was very sickly and always a little... off. The lack of nutrition when she was young obviously affect her mental development. She was a shy kitty, never as social with the other cats, and always a little skittish. She was nice enough when she was just alone with you, and she was a gorgeous cat. White fur, beautiful amber eyes. Her tail would be constantly twitching strangely into the shape of a question mark.

A few months after Boo was added to the family and Jem disappeared, Scout came home with a kitten. A long-haired, fluffy, mostly white with a little bit of black, kitten. We named him Pinkerton.

A few days after that (or before that, I wasn't physically present for most of this craziness), Rachel saw a black cat by the side of the road, showing obvious signs of living outside and neglect. It's coat was matted and patchy, and he was skinny as hell. So she and Mady got out of the car, thinking maybe it was Jem, and captured this cat. It was apparently easy, and the cat made it quite clear that it had once been owned by a family, though not recently. It rather quickly became clear that this cat wasn't Jem, as he wasn't fixed. We named him Duncan, and Dad and Patti were soon told by a vet that he was very sick and had FIV. They decided to put him down.

Then Scout disappeared after bringing Pinkerton home. I like to think that Jem and Scout escaped to the south, hijacked a pirate ship and sailed off. :p IDK.

Eventually my dad adopted two more black kitties: Buster Douglass and his sister, Flower. Buster is a beefy boy kitty, who is stiff as a board if you pick him up. Flower is a dainty girl kitty who just sort of lets you pick her up and then escapes at the earliest convienence. Pinkerton tolerates them. He is now a giant kitty, all fur and fat. At least 15 lbs, if not more, long and thick and judgemental. He likes being petted on his head and butt but not his belly.

Boo Kitty died this past March, right after I moved back from San Francisco. She had FIV as well along with her other mental and physical problems. Patti was devestated. Boo was her cat, even more so than the others.

About four months ago, my dad adopted TWO MORE cats: sister long-haired grey and white kitties who have extra thumbs on their front paws. They are skittish and shy and haven't quite warmed up to me. Their names are Mako-chan and Jimmy. Pinkerton tolerates them. Buster automatically went into Dad-Kitty mode, which was SO CUTE I COULD BARELY STAND IT.

Holy shit that's a lot of cats.

Part 3: MY KITTIES

Date: 2010-11-02 03:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] emmaorgana.livejournal.com
I have two cats: Chloe and Hermione.

Hermione came into my life in August of 2007. John was in Chicago for two weeks, doing training for work, and I was at the library, at the Circ Desk, at the end of my shift.

"Excuse me," said a patron as I looked up. "But did you know that your bushes are meowing?"

I looked over at my boss, Kinsor. "Let's go see!" I said, and she nodded and told someone else to watch the desk. It was wet out, as it had rained recently and I was wearing white cloth flats. So I kicked them off and walked through the prickly evergreen bushes barefoot, in search the the mewing. Hermione, of course, tried to escape, but Kins and I cornered her and I picked her up, getting dirt all over my work shirt, picked up my shoes and we went back inside.

Rachel and Mady had decided to come visit that day, and I spent the last 15 minutes of my shift in the back room with them, peering down at the cat that we had put into one of the delivery boxes. Mady came with me in my car as we went to the pet store and got a few supplies (because of course I was taking her home with me what other choice did I have?) and we went over to my mom's house. Serafina was outside, thank god, so she couldn't pick any fights. We fed the wee kitty some wet food and she drank her water and promptly climbed back into the box and fell asleep.

I took her home, took some pictures, and called John.

"I... uh... may have adopted a kitty today."

"Come again?"

When John came home (and instantly fell in love), we went over to Petsmart, the people there directed us to their in-store vet clinic, where the nurses were able to tell us that she was a she, that she was about 8 weeks old, and that aside from being a little underweight, and dirty, that she was perfectly healthy.

When John went back to work, he told his coworkers about Hermione (who was then known as Bitty, because she was an Itty-Bitty-Kitty), and one of them said:

"Are you interested in adopting again?"

His wife did fostering work for the Humane Society, and currently had a cat who had just given birth to three little kittens. One was adopted by them, another by their daughter, but the third had no home yet.

And that's how Chloe came into our lives.

It took about a week for them to warm up to each other, but they are now as close as two cats can get. They snuggle and lick each other clean and play-fight and share their food and look out the same window.

Hermione mews a lot, and loudly. She is always voicing her opinions and most of the time She Does Not Approve. She is a brightly colored calico, short-haired, with light green eyes. Chloe is a mix of long and short-haired, and is all black, with about five white chest hairs. She has large green eyes and can be very passive. Picking up Hermione is like trying to wrestle with a troll. She goes stiff and then tries everything to get out of your arms. Picking up Chloe is like picking up a bowl of Jello. She goes limp and flops everywhere, making it impossible for you to hold onto her. Hermione hates going outside, or anywhere in her carrier. If I pick her up in my arms and step outside, her tail will poof up and her claws dig into my shoulder. I think she fears it because of the amount of time she spent outside when she was little. We are 80% sure she was dumped by someone at the library. Chloe is constantly trying to get outside. She likes the smells and noises and everything. When it's cold out, Chloe likes to curl up and steal your warmth. Hermione likes to watch out windows. Chloe has a knack for sitting in your lap the moment you have to get up and do something. Hermione has a knack for knocking loud things over in the middle of the night.

I think I would have fallen into major depression in San Francisco without them.

They have been on planes and long car rides. They have moved across the country, twice. I am so grateful that they are in my life.

ETA: Uhhh, so I maybe wrote a lot and I hope it helps! :p

Also: http://emmaorgana.livejournal.com/49275.html
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=577854457992&set=a.870629654152.2494273.12111155
Edited Date: 2010-11-02 03:31 pm (UTC)

Date: 2010-11-02 03:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kira-snugz.livejournal.com
i never owned a cat of my own, due to allergies and parents with them. but i have cat stories.

i used to cat sit every year for friendw with 4 cats. the boys, calvin and hobbes were both black and short haired, and the girls willow and dulcie had long lovely hair. calvin and hobbes were very friendly. by the time i would get the screen door open, they'd both be waiting in the kitchen, and calvin would talk. meows and meeps and yows and yarrs. calvin had a vocabulary.

everyday i'd walk into the kicthen and kneel and say "hey buddy i missed you' and then he'd follow me around the house, just talking at me. and when he thought i wasn't paying enough attention, he'd give me additude. so i'd sit and he climb right onto my lap, and i'd say 'tell me everything.' and he would curl up and just chatter at me. for 4 years he was my favorite thing about the summer.

and then they moved. it was 4 years before i saw him again. he was 14, and old, and all his friends were gone. but he lifted his head and chirped at me, and i said 'hey buddy i missed you.' he went from stationary to rocketship at the speed of light and i was surrounded by purring chattering happy cat. and then he stopped, just stopped, and then he gave me the dirtiest cat look and started bitching, crawled into my lap and talked at me for a good 20 minutes. i'm entirely sure that it was a lecture on how i went away for so long.

he spent the rest of the visit on my lap. and when i left, he sat at the door and bitched at me more, probably a variation of 'and don't let it be 4 years!!!'
i get to see him in 12 days. and i can not wait. i expect to be bitched out, because when he said not 4 years he certainly didn't mean that 1 year was fine.

i have more, and will come back and type them up once i am past the 'omgimisscalvin'

Date: 2010-11-02 04:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jaysta-11.livejournal.com
I have a feeling my comment is not going to be as epic as the other couple ones posted here.

I have one cat. She is my first cat. Her name is supposed to be Cole but she doesn't respond to it. Instead, she is BB. She's a very pretty calico that I picked up from the vet.

When I first moved to TN, we wanted to get a cat because the dog was lonely. So I was looking all around at the pounds and places like that, and I couldn't find any I liked. THe day I went to interview for a job at a local vet clinic, I was given a tour and there she was in a cage. The vet who was giving me the tour mentioned that she was looking for a home since I had told her I was on the lookout for a cat.

Cole has a sad story. She was six months old and her previous owner's dog attacked her to the point that she should have lost one of her front legs. The doctors fixed her up and she healed real nice, but the owners didn't want to take her back for fear of it happening again. So poor little baby kitty was at the vet until I came along and was all MINE!

I brought her home and found out the hard way that she is not very affectionate. She doesn't like to be held and usually stays far away from people. She liked to be rubbed, but only on her terms.

We have also tried offering her little bits of people food out of curiousity of what she might like... and the only thing she has eaten is cheese. That cat LOVES cheese.

[I also feel the need to clarify at this point that she is not MY cat. She is not my parent's cat either. No, BB is the dog's cat. Our pet dog has a pet cat. And he knows it.]

She's a smart little thing. She has figured out how to entice our 12 year old mutt to play [because she's only four and still has the kitten in her]: she hides around a piece of furniture and when he walks by, she jumps out at him. Scares the crap out of the dog, but she gets what she wants.

And a lot of times, when he starts growling at her, it's because she instigates. She loves to get the dog riled up.

Random fact: she LOVES boxes and baskets. Anything that she can hop into is like heaven to her. I can't tell you how many times my mother has sat down a clean basket of laundry to fold only for the cat to hop in. We used to leave my old college laundry basket in teh middle of the floor for her because she would go in and out of it all day long.

... aaaaaaaaand I think I'm done.

Date: 2010-11-02 06:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bumblebee-1983.livejournal.com
Oh my gosh, that sounds too cute!

Where are you at in TN?

Date: 2010-11-02 06:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jaysta-11.livejournal.com
I go to school in Murfreesboro [about 30-45 minutes outside of Nashville].

Date: 2010-11-02 06:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bumblebee-1983.livejournal.com
DUDE. I'm in Cookeville. :)

*waves*

Date: 2010-11-02 06:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bumblebee-1983.livejournal.com
LOL!!!

It's a small world, ain't it?

Date: 2010-11-02 06:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jaysta-11.livejournal.com
Gurl you gots no idea.

Btw, I love how Badger is gonna come abck and have a million notifications and be like WOW A LOT OF PEOPLE TALKED ABOUT THEIR CATS!

And then he will get here and be all disappointed because it's just you and I having a conversation.

lolololol

Date: 2010-11-02 07:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bumblebee-1983.livejournal.com
::snort::

True!

This sounds like fun!

Date: 2010-11-02 06:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bumblebee-1983.livejournal.com
I've had numerous cats in my lifetime, but now can't have them due to allergies.

I had a tabby (when I was a young lass) named Buffalo. We had to take him up to my grandparents' farm where he could run free and catch alll the mice to his heart's delight. (My parents didn't tell me it was because of a cat killer in the neighborhood.)

Anyways, Buffalo was bright orange and big to me.

One day, I was at my grandparents' house and I saw Buffalo. I kept yelling "BUFFALO!" because I wanted him to come in and cuddle. My grandmother thought I was insane.

"No, that's a cat, not a buffalo," she kept telling me. "No, it's Buffalo!" She didn't get it.

And still doesn't to this day. LOL

Then came along Bucket. Bucket looooved buckets. He was a gray colored cat and as lovable as could be. I remember trying to plant flowers with my mom and Bucket would sit in the garden where we'd be planting, saying "Pay attention to ME FOOLS." LOL

Then my neighbors had cats. One was named Priscilla (the momma and totally prissy.) They kept two boy kittens: Buddy and Pooch. Buddy was like his momma, dark and lanky. Pooch...well, Pooch was a cat of a different color and weight. Pooch was gray and heavy set.

I remember fondly one time him getting into a Rice Krispies cereal box and getting stuck. No joke. It was hilarious. He was belly up in a Rice Krispies cereal box.

Pris used to leave dead animals on the doorstep. That wasn't fun at all.

Aaandd I have more cat stories...but they'll have to wait. I have to upload the pictures of Baby Kitty and Miles, the two newest beings, too. LOL
Edited Date: 2010-11-02 06:11 pm (UTC)

Date: 2010-11-02 06:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] basinbrat.livejournal.com
Have cat stories...

Ive had two cats, Storm and Josie. Storm recently died of congestive heart failure at 20. Old cat is old. He was remarkably stupid. We get birds nesting under the eaves of our house and Storm would sit on the dresser and stare at the wall waiting for the loud but invisible birds to appear. He also got beat up by magpies this one time.
Sad story - When Dad died and we came back from the hospice, Storm would mount a daily 'Dad hunt'. He would miaow at every closed door, then every open one in case Dad was hiding behind it. There was no way of telling him that Dad wasn't coming back.

Other cat Josie is 18 and her yowling at 430am recently got us served with an animal noise warning. Loud cat is loud. All the time. She sits in odd places - Mum's in-tray is a favourite, as is the corner in the hallway (all the better to scare unwary passerby with a yowl) on top of the central heating pipes, and in a plant pot with the lemon tree are also common places.

Essentially, my cats are/were mad.

Date: 2010-11-02 11:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thepooloftears.livejournal.com
Have you met Jerry? He's the precocious little (and I use that word lightly) cat in my icon. He's six years old and my baby.
I've had cats for my entire life, I don't remember living in a home without one, except for a very short period after high school. I stayed with my aunt for a while and she didn't like cats. I decided to move back in with my mom. I guess I was going through a depression and my mom realized it and decided that I needed a cat, dammit. I think she thinks cats make everything better (she's right). So for Christmas in 2004 we went to the ASPCA and she let me play with the kittens until I found one that was absolutely meant to be mine.
He wasn't Jerry.
He was a little brown tabby, and when I brought him home I named him Maxwell (Max for short). We bonded very quickly, he liked to follow me up and down the stairs at the townhouse, and always took a nap wrapped around my neck. I called him my little fur cozy :p
I guess it was about February 2005 when Max started having problems breathing. I noticed he'd look like he was panting. He just didn't have get up and go, and looked like he was in pain. I decided to take him to the vet to get it checked out when it was past one week with symptoms. The vet ran some tests and took some X-rays and saw that Max had fluid in his lungs. With all of his symptoms and signs, the vet told me it looked very grim, that Max had likely had feline peritonitis, which is not curable. I had a two options: allow the vets to drain the fluid periodically and make Max got through procedure after procedure (and bankrupt myself) or to put him down. I cried and cried and thought things over, but ultimately I decided to let Max go gently.
While I was crying in the waiting room after I signed the papers, the vet tech working that night came to me and said that seeing how upset I was to be losing my friend, she could tell I really cared. Apparently she was taking care of some kittens that were about the same age as Max, and she could only afford to keep one of them. Since peritonitis is highly contagious and likes to linger, I would need to go home and get rid of basically everything that Max had used, clean, and wait a few weeks, but the tech wanted me to meet one of the cats she had.
About a month later I met up with the tech, and she brought out a carrier. In it was a cat she named Jerry. She warned me that sometimes he took a while to warm up to people, and opened the door. He came right up to me, sat in my lap, and started to purr.
Five years and about 20 pounds later, I don't know what I'd do without my Jerry Bear. He's been with me through a LOT in a short amount of time.

Date: 2010-11-02 11:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jess-the1.livejournal.com
I got Luna(new cat) from work. The boys out in the lumber yard found her out in one of the boxs, which was around 12 and I didn't get of until 6. So while I was thinking up ways to get her home, this couple came up to the custmore service desk with her and asked if I was going to keep her, after I said yes they said they would take her home and bring her back at 6. Because they did not want to leave her out in the yard. Which I don't blame them it was pretty could.

I figured that would be it and they weren't going to bring Luna back. But loand behold 5:40 ish the lady comes back with Luna. I was honstly amazed they broght her back. We got her into my car(did have my carrier becasue I didn't plan on getting a new cat.;p) I did up my tray and home we went. She is very well and happy.

She is all back, and I mean all back, whiskers, nose the pads of her feet, all black. She has really pretty green-yellow eyes and is really playful and friendly.
I so need a Icon of her now.lol

Date: 2010-11-03 12:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] madrigaltriste.livejournal.com
I have three cats and have had cats all my life so I've seen all types of weird/hilarious cat behavior over the years.

My cat Gaz is a little, stunted black kitty. We found her wandering around dirty and minus part of her ear in our apartment complex when we lived in North Carolina. She was friendly so I'm guessing she was a pet who was abandoned. She has a strange habit of licking plastic bags: she'll crawl inside a plastic grocery bag and just lick the inside of it for a long time. What she gets out of this I have no idea. She really doesn't like any other cats and takes that dislike to extremes when she sees a strange cat outside - she'll let out these ear-piercing shrieks until it goes away. She's afraid of most people besides me and Sky. When the doorbell rings she runs downstairs and doesn't come out for hours. Sometimes I swear she even forgets who we are: Sometimes I'll pick her up and she'll love it, other times she'll suddenly look at me like "WHO ARE YOU?!", start squeaking madly and try to get away. Our theory is that since she was homeless she didn't get proper nutrition and she's a bit brain-damaged. But we love her anyway. She's affectionate as hell when she wants to be and so cute :)

Monty is our big, giant cat who we got from a shelter when he was 3. He's lovey-dovey with people but he's skittish and takes a long time to warm up to you. We think maybe he had a nice home at one time but was traumatized in the shelter somehow because he's really loving but terrified of everything. It's depressing sometimes because we can't 'fix' his behavior. He's tolerant of other cats to the point of being a pushover: as big as he is he has never hit or bit another cat and usually runs away at the first sign of a confrontation.

Lucy is our hyperactive kitty. She's another shelter cat but was a tiny kitten when we got her. She's really well-socialized and loves everyone and everything. She's a bit aggressive when she wants to play and it annoys the other cats sometimes: she doesn't seem to understand why they don't want to play and act like an idiot like she does :) She's really sweet, though, so we always forgive her insanity.

Date: 2010-11-08 03:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] believe51.livejournal.com
I'm a little late to the party on this one, but... here you go anyway!

When I was about eight my greatest wish in life was to own a cat, but at the time we were living in an apartment that didn't allow pets. When we bought a house, my mom promised that I could get a cat, as long as we got it from a shelter. My cat, Kiwi, was a black-and-gray striped rescue animal. He was about nine months old when we got him (we don't know exactly since he was, y'know, a rescue).

Kiwi spent most of his life thinking he was a dog. He loved to try to sneak outside, and anytime the doorbell rang he would run to the door to try to escape. He also drank out of the toilet bowl (until we started leaving the lids down), walked on a leash, and was more than happy to eat the dogs' food. The dogs came after Kiwi, and there was never any question that Kiwi ruled the house. Although he was ostensibly my cat, he was closest to my mom because she was there on weekends that I went to stay at my dad's, and they kept each other company.

Kiwi died of a heart attack at home about a month before I moved away to college. He was sitting on my lap while I was watching tv, when all of a sudden he jumped up and had a- fit, I guess- and ran upstairs. My brother and I followed him, and found him lying on the floor outside my room, with his breathing shallow and labored. We knew something was wrong but before we could figure out what to do, his breathing stopped. Being with him when he died is one of the hardest things that has ever happened to me, but I'm also glad that he didn't die alone, and that we could be with him.

Since I moved into a dorm right after this, and currently share a house with someone who is allergic, I haven't been able to get another cat. It's something that's on my definite to-do list once I have my own place.

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