Hello, I'm new here. I've got six cats, all rescues from a no-kill UK shelter. My cats range in age from 14 to 3. There are two pedigrees in the gang.
The oldest one's a Burmese. Her 80 year old owner died two years ago. This cat was so savage, both to her owner and in the shelter they thought they'd never rehome her. On her vet card it said "Notes: Demon-cat!" After three days of hissing and howling around my living room, she draped herself over my daughter's shoulder, started purring and hasn't looked back since. Her name was Poppet, and still is because we figured she was just to old to have it changed. She still spends most of her time in the living room, on her bean bag, because she loathes one of my other cats and despite her age will climb any height or leap any gap to get at him! In warm weather she goes out and decimates the local mouse population, much to my amazement, since her last owner NEVER let her out, so she'd never hunted. She only has four teeth left but there's obviously nothing wrong with them!
The next oldest is Mabel (aka 'Head Girl') who is 10. She's been here since she was six months old. She is a very elegant black and white longhair, and, like many socially insecure people is an incredible snob. She keeps the rest in order and thinks the dog was acquired as her pet! She gives the distinct impression that there was some terrible administrative mix-up and she wound up in jail without her papers.
Binky is nine, and we had him from five weeks. He came to the rescue via a breeder whose Persian female was got at by her Burmese male stud. When the female went into season three weeks after, the breeder unloaded him onto the shelter, who hand fed him for acouple of weeks and then called me (yes, they really saw me coming!) He's a huge red and white softy with lovely orange eyes and very little brain. Despite his size, he's so nice that he's bottom on the pecking order, because he never stands up for indoors.
Tessa is six, and a solid brown tabby with a beautiful coat and volatile nature. Only my daughter really understands her. I never see her eat, and she rarely goes out, but she still manages to be overweight. She loves real fur catnip mice and croons loudly to them in the hallway at three a.m. She eventaully tires of this maternal effort and 'drowns' them in the dog water bowl!
Vinnie the Fish is five year old solid red tabby. He was starved by his previous owners. Despite this he is the calmest cat I've ever known. He is completely zen (although he is on a diet because he rather overcompensated for previously missed meals!). He is the cat Poppet tries to murder. He just runs away and never fights back.
Then there's Gustave, who's three, and a Maine Coon with suspect hips. The vet ID'd him, because he had a bottle brush tail and short hair when we got him a couple of years ago and we just thought he had a dash of Persian... Now he's a really handsome brown and white tabby with a fantastic mane and a loopy personality. Always on the wrong side of the door, he has to be locked in when we go out because he follows us.
Anyway, that's my gang. They live with me and my daughter (or do we live with them?) in a house in London with a big garden. I look forward to being part of this group, partly because I'm so sick of lying about the number of cats we have (even my mother thinks I've got three; when she comes over I just say the ones she doesn't recognise belong to the neighbours!). It'll be nice to be among the like-minded who don't think I'm obsessed or defective. I do work, have a kid and a life AND six cats!
The oldest one's a Burmese. Her 80 year old owner died two years ago. This cat was so savage, both to her owner and in the shelter they thought they'd never rehome her. On her vet card it said "Notes: Demon-cat!" After three days of hissing and howling around my living room, she draped herself over my daughter's shoulder, started purring and hasn't looked back since. Her name was Poppet, and still is because we figured she was just to old to have it changed. She still spends most of her time in the living room, on her bean bag, because she loathes one of my other cats and despite her age will climb any height or leap any gap to get at him! In warm weather she goes out and decimates the local mouse population, much to my amazement, since her last owner NEVER let her out, so she'd never hunted. She only has four teeth left but there's obviously nothing wrong with them!
The next oldest is Mabel (aka 'Head Girl') who is 10. She's been here since she was six months old. She is a very elegant black and white longhair, and, like many socially insecure people is an incredible snob. She keeps the rest in order and thinks the dog was acquired as her pet! She gives the distinct impression that there was some terrible administrative mix-up and she wound up in jail without her papers.
Binky is nine, and we had him from five weeks. He came to the rescue via a breeder whose Persian female was got at by her Burmese male stud. When the female went into season three weeks after, the breeder unloaded him onto the shelter, who hand fed him for acouple of weeks and then called me (yes, they really saw me coming!) He's a huge red and white softy with lovely orange eyes and very little brain. Despite his size, he's so nice that he's bottom on the pecking order, because he never stands up for indoors.
Tessa is six, and a solid brown tabby with a beautiful coat and volatile nature. Only my daughter really understands her. I never see her eat, and she rarely goes out, but she still manages to be overweight. She loves real fur catnip mice and croons loudly to them in the hallway at three a.m. She eventaully tires of this maternal effort and 'drowns' them in the dog water bowl!
Vinnie the Fish is five year old solid red tabby. He was starved by his previous owners. Despite this he is the calmest cat I've ever known. He is completely zen (although he is on a diet because he rather overcompensated for previously missed meals!). He is the cat Poppet tries to murder. He just runs away and never fights back.
Then there's Gustave, who's three, and a Maine Coon with suspect hips. The vet ID'd him, because he had a bottle brush tail and short hair when we got him a couple of years ago and we just thought he had a dash of Persian... Now he's a really handsome brown and white tabby with a fantastic mane and a loopy personality. Always on the wrong side of the door, he has to be locked in when we go out because he follows us.
Anyway, that's my gang. They live with me and my daughter (or do we live with them?) in a house in London with a big garden. I look forward to being part of this group, partly because I'm so sick of lying about the number of cats we have (even my mother thinks I've got three; when she comes over I just say the ones she doesn't recognise belong to the neighbours!). It'll be nice to be among the like-minded who don't think I'm obsessed or defective. I do work, have a kid and a life AND six cats!
