Sunday, August 23, 2009

My Cats

Okay, meet the kitty with the motor boat size purr. His name is Morgan, but somehow I end up calling him Madison, then comes Monroe and finally I remember it's Morgan. He was supposed to be called Captain Morgan, because two of my middle daughter's rescued cats are named Captain and since this was another rescue, it had to be a Captain. The first was named for Captain Barbosa, the second Captain Jack from the movie, Pirates of the Caribbean. My youngest daughter decided we didn't need another Captain, so she suggested Commodore. And there you have it Commodore Morgan Perry (I won't even go into the Perry part).

So now we have this little kitten with this big name. He was a feral kitten living in my daughter's back yard until the night he was attacked by two adult cats, who slashed open his side. My daughter took him to the vet, who fixed him up with antibiotics, de-fleaed him, cleaned out his ear mites and sent him home to heal. My daughter, the cat rescuer, already has four cats, three of them rescued feral cats, and one domesticus princess named Madeline, so of naturally he came home with me. I already have two spoiled cats, two neurotic dogs, one Amazon parrot and a slightly loony cockatiel, so what's one more.

Morgan is the most affectionate kitten I have ever met. He cuddles up on my arm each night, after washing my face and neck with his little sandpaper tongue, turns his motor on full blast and goes to sleep.

Commodore Morgan Perry!

He has yet to meet Thomas Henry and Jhonen. Thomas Henry being my cat, who is the size of two cats rolled into one. Thomas Henry was once traumatized by soap bubbles, the kind you give kids with the little wand. I bought a bottle at the dollar store and came home thinking the cats would love chasing the bubbles. I pulled the wand out of the bottle, blew out a mass of bubbles, they floated, pearly and glistening through the air, down to the floor. Thomas Henry took one look at those shiny bubbles, his eyes grew to the size of very large marbles, he bolted for the bathroom (where he has a high place to sleep on top of the cabinet). For two weeks, he only came down to eat and use the littler box, then right back up to his safety spot. To this day I think he gets hives when you mention the word bubbles.

My oldest daughter calls Thomas Henry "the golden child" because he and I both think he is king of the house. He does get those haughty looks sometimes when you are trying to push him off the kitchen table, and he does knock the dog's water dish out of it's holder each morning because he wants "fresh" water, not the dog-lapped stuff. You might say he deports himself in a imperial manner, but then that's the way of kings.

Thomas Henry is a very sweet, lovable cat, but Jo-Jo, (as we call Jhonen) is of a different fabric, not that she isn't lovable, she just isn't a real social butterfly to put it mildly. Jo-Jo is my youngest daughter's cat and she and Thomas Henry were raised side by side, but two cats couldn't be more different. Jo-Jo doesn't like for you pet her without her absolute permission. Jo-Jo's talent is finding the most obscure places to sleep, and sometimes it is almost impossible to find her. Jo-Jo tries to drink out of the water cooler spigot, I'm waiting for the day she learns to push down on the handle.

Group Activity!

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