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Your love of all things feline, where did it begin? - Page 2

post #31 of 36
Cute thread idea .

My love of felines was, by all accounts, destined not to happen. But, alas, it's funny how things manage to work themselves out...

I was born into a home that was already owned by an adolescent, female, buff-colored tabby named Sandy. She was my mother's cat and was deeply offended that her owners (erm, servants ) dared to bring home a bouncing baby girl. Let's just say that she was not all that thrilled with having to share the attention and she made that fact very well known. It was so bad that my parents had to move my bassinet into their bedroom and cordon it off from Sandy since she would jump into the crib and hiss, growl, and try to scratch at my face. She was 2 years old when I was born and lived to be 19 years old. And, let me tell you, she never did warm up to me. In fact, we knew she was close to the end when she started rubbing up against my legs and purring. I did love her, though, despite her deep-seeded hatred for me and I still miss the distinct sound of her grumbling and growling. But I know she's up over at the Rainbow Bridge watching me type this and cringing...so all is well...

My second experience with a cat was with my grandparents' ginger tabby, Goldy. I don't know what it was about me as a child, but all cats hated me. Seriously ! Goldy would always hiss at me, growl, and run as far from me as she possibly could. In fact, when I was real young, I was afraid to go to my grandparents' house since Goldy was so terrifying. One of my first full sentences was "Goldy pissed (hissed ) on (at) me!" Yeah, we still laugh about that. My grandparents' second cat, Maya, wasn't much better, but she was mean and nasty to everyone so I can let myself off the hook for that one. And you wondered why I was neurotic .

But, there were the good cats, too. My father rescued our male, black and white, tuxedo cat from the woods in the back of our house when he was a tiny, sickly kitten of only 6 weeks. We couldn't afford to take the kitten to the vet at the time, but my father wouldn't give up on him and gave him a high dose of Penicillin as a last ditch effort to save his life. And, it did. He was thus named Phoenix for he rose, almost literally, from the dead. Unfortunately he did not live to see his third birthday due to severe kidney failure that went undiagnosed for far too long, but, while he was alive, he was my baby and I will forever credit him for restoring my love and faith in all things feline.

There were others that came and went as well. The domestic medium-hair, white and grey kitty with the apropo name of Fluffy (who we used to color with highlighters and paint -- much to my parents' dismay ); the female, grey and white, tiger-striped tabby named Taboo; the torti-girl named Mocha who is still alive and kicking at my dad's home in Pennsylvania; two black and white brothers named Frank and Frank Junior; Oreo, the tuxedo kitten who was terrified of her own shadow and wound up needing to be put down due to feline leukemia; Zeus the male-turned-female, grey tabby with white who we affectionately termed "Triangle Head," among a whole host of fosters, strays, and short-term and long-term visitors. Yes, there were others and someday I will write more about them, but they each hold a special place in my heart and have taught me so much about feline behavior, companionship, and love...

But, most of all, I owe my love for all things feline to my siamese mix, Opal. She was and will always be the love of my life. My parents adopted her from a kill shelter and presented her to me on my thirteenth birthday. I was completely and utterly surprised as well as scared to death. I'd never had a pet of my very own before and it was a daunting task. Opal came to me as a kitten so tiny that she needed to be bottle fed. Her eyes were open and her ears had popped up, but she could barely walk as she was very malnourished, anemic from having been flea and tick infested, and sick with a URI and possible herpes viral infection. But, despite the terrible state she was in, she was the most loving, trusting kitten and it was impossible not to fall head-over-heels in love with her. She was all white save for some dark points on her head and tail. And she had the most striking bright blue eyes! With tenderness and love, Opal made a full recovery and went on to be my best friend, confidante, and personal assistant. If it wasn't still too raw and difficult to talk about, I'd share more about Opal and my subsequent kitty loves, but that will need to wait for another, more appropriate time.

So, yes, I was nearly destined to become anti-cat. But true feline love cannot be overshadowed by even the most bratty, independent of cats and I now know, without a doubt, that I was destined to be a cat-lover all along -- even if Sandy tried to maul me, Goldy "pissed" on me, and loss and sadness was ever-present...

And, now...all I can say is this: thank God for all things feline ! My life just wouldn't be the same without my kitty companions -- past, present, and those I've yet to meet.
post #32 of 36
i have cats almost the whole twenty years i've been alive. my parents lived with my grandparents when i was born and they had a couple. and then when i was about three i got my very own kitten it was named tee's toy (toy for short) from friends of my parents because they use to breed persians and i became attached to him, and him to me. and ever since then i have had at least one cat.
post #33 of 36
My story is a bit of a longer one. Here goes......

When I was growing up, I didn't have any animals. My mom is not an animal person. She was raised on a farm and every morning, she had to go out to the chicken coop to get some eggs. Every time she went in there, the chickens would surround her and start pecking her. Ever since then she's never been an animal person.

My dad on the other hand loves all animals but he has asthma and as a result, he couldn't be around cats or dogs for too long before it would become hard for him to breathe.

Due to the conflict of interest from my parents, I grew up as being indifferent towards animals. I never liked them but I didn't hate them either. Then my uncle got a dog. It was a huge german shepherd. I thought it would be a relentless beast that would tear me apart if I wasn't careful, but the first time I saw it, it planted a big wet kiss right on my cheek.

When that happened, I knew exactly what was missing from my life. I begged my parents for a dog but with my dad's asthma, it just never happened.

As time went on, I started to drift away from dogs. My uncle took a job halfway across the country and so I hardly ever get to see him and Jake (his shepherd) and I don't really know too many people with a dog so my love for them faded a bit. I still love dogs and always will, but without being with them it isn't the same.

I always thought that I would be a dog person. That it until I was 16. I was dating a girl who had 2 cats. One of them was the equivalent of a throw rug. It was very furry and hardly ever moved. The other, from what my then-girlfriend told me, was very afraid of people and would always run away from anyone new. However, one night when we were watching a movie at her house, Sass (her cat with a people phobia) came out of hiding, took one look at me, and then immediately jumped on me and started purring and cuddling up to me. It was like she had just found her long lost brother or something. Ever since then, I have been a cat person.

3 years later I moved out of my parents house and found Eric and Marie at the humane society. And the rest, as they say, is history.
post #34 of 36
We already had a cat by the time I was born, a torbie named Flash who will forever be known as a great hunter. To be honest, I don't remember her being very affectionate with me (she seemed to prefer my dad and brother), but she was friendly. She passed away in 1999 at age fourteen. For a few years, we didn't have any dogs or cats. My dad is a cat person and my mom likes both cats and dogs, so I have no idea why we didn't have any! We got Butch (German Shepherd/Border Collie) in 2000, and around that same time we had a family friend living with us who brought her cat, Prince. She moved out a while later, and I got Scratch in September 2001. She was my first cat of my own. I used to write tons of stories about her and her 'adventures' (I did with Flash too - I wrote my first "book" about her and used to pester my dad to draw pictures of her).

We got another cat, JC, three years ago this month. She passed away eleven days after we got her from feline distemper. I was devastated. I begged my parents to get a cat for half a year, but we put that off in fear of a new cat getting distemper. We got Squee in December of 2006.

So anyway, I've always loved cats.
post #35 of 36
Originally Posted by RussianKitten View Post
Well for me I was six years old. I hated my ballet lessons but I put up with them for a year because I was going to be getting a kitten near my birthday. (Best way to bribe I kid I tell ya just tell them you'll get them a kitten)! Anyway the day came when I brought her home. She was black and white and the cutest thing you ever saw. My very own cat!! I felt so happy and I fell in love with her from the moment I saw her. She was so graceful and I decided her name was to be Patch. I loved to crawl around with her and mimic the noises she makes (and to this day I've never stopped doing that with cats)! The year later my brother wanted a cat so a long came Oliver, a lovely ginger tabby but sadly he didn't live long. My mum found a cat walking a long the road a few years later and we took him in and named him Shiny. So from a young age I've had cats and have loved the companionship and love they give. They are divine -looks at Amadeus unravveling her knitting- erm did I say divine?
So how did you fall in love?? I'd love to know
Ironically I was the same age as you when I decided getting up in the middle of the night to let my dog out was a bummer but with a cat I did not have to get up at all.
post #36 of 36
I was about 4 years old when my brother brought home a kitten that his friend's cat gave birth to. Cats weren't routinely spayed back then. Josephine was a grey tabby and of course had a couple of litters, and mom always found homes for the kittens, although we did keep some of them once in a while. Watching kittens being born was absolutely fascinating and I remember building kitten weaning boxes for them. At about the age of 10, my sister developed a horrible allergy to cats which landed her in the hospital. My dad decided to take all of our cats to the humane society. When someone told me what happened to cats there, I cried for months and really have never forgiven him for that. I vowed that if I ever adopted an animal, it was for life and I've kept that promise.

When I got my first apartment at age 18, I adopted my own cat (Hippocrates) that put me over the top for my love of cats. Hipster was an only cat for the 13 years that I had him (lost him to cancer) and when he died, one cat wasn't enough to replace him. Within a year of his death, I adopted 7 cats and 5 dogs, and my life has overflowed with critters ever since.
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