Hey there! I was wandering the Internet, looking for a forum to post my vote for worst song of all time, and chose this one because I live with five, count 'em, five cats:
Chimay, the matriarch, rescued. Named after my favourite beer.
Bebita, the daughter and hostess, home-grown.
Chilmole, the son and warrior, home-grown.
YeyÃ[emoji]169[/emoji], the tyke and mischief maker, rescued.
Gato Raro, the grizzled veteran (and possibly father to Bebita and Chilmole), who had been living a feral life until he got sick and I gave him safe haven until his health returned.
I live in a cabin on a hill just outside of town in a safe, cat-friendly community, so I have a door that allows the cats to come and go as they please. Curiously enough, they prefer to spend their time either indoors or laying on the porch.
What I do get, quite often, is other cats waltzing in and making themselves at home. One of my neighbours is quite the eccentric and has TWELVE cats...and feeds them all Iams...canned. That'll put a dent in the wallet.
Anyway, one of the neighbour's cats, which I had never seen before, came right into my bedroom one night, jumped on the bed and decided that my chest made a nice pillow. Just like that. And after a week or so, just like that, she left.
I've seen her around, and she doesn't seem to recognize me, which leads me to believe that some cats have bouts of "blackout amnesia": they forget who they are and where they live, find a sap like me, then come back to their senses and forget who they were during the amnesia.
Or maybe it's a Walkabout, Australian-style?
Some years ago, Chimay left me and came back an agonizing week later. Pregnant. I had her fixed after she gave birth, on my bed, while I was sleeping and I didn't even notice. I opened my eyes and there she was, purring in a sphinx-like position smack dab in the center of the blood and fluid stained sheets. Her kittens were working their way under the blanket.
Even though I gave the bed a thorough cleaning, for MONTHS Chimay climbed onto the bed to dig her claws into the spot, lost in a trance-like state.
I kept them all, but one of them, Movi, died; Naima disappeared on the very eve of her operation, and Yuri left also, before I had a chance to have him spayed. Yuri came back three months later, for one day, and disappeared again, and has not returned. I don't feel bad about Yuri because he looked robust and groomed (in other words, Not Feralized), which probably means that he found a home. Remember, people love cats in my neighbourhood.
Yuri stood out. My friends had a nickname for him: King Of Snake. On two different occasions he presented to me, then devoured in front of me, a rattlesnake. Small rattlesnakes, of course. Yuri paraded in front of my friends, which made him the target of pampering, like the time he was our official taster for steamed baby clams. By the way, his name is Yuri because he was born on the thirty-eight anniversary of man's first flight into space.
Well, I seem to be carrying on and on, so I'll stop right here.
Now, where was that Worst Song In History forum?
Chimay, the matriarch, rescued. Named after my favourite beer.
Bebita, the daughter and hostess, home-grown.
Chilmole, the son and warrior, home-grown.
YeyÃ[emoji]169[/emoji], the tyke and mischief maker, rescued.
Gato Raro, the grizzled veteran (and possibly father to Bebita and Chilmole), who had been living a feral life until he got sick and I gave him safe haven until his health returned.
I live in a cabin on a hill just outside of town in a safe, cat-friendly community, so I have a door that allows the cats to come and go as they please. Curiously enough, they prefer to spend their time either indoors or laying on the porch.
What I do get, quite often, is other cats waltzing in and making themselves at home. One of my neighbours is quite the eccentric and has TWELVE cats...and feeds them all Iams...canned. That'll put a dent in the wallet.
Anyway, one of the neighbour's cats, which I had never seen before, came right into my bedroom one night, jumped on the bed and decided that my chest made a nice pillow. Just like that. And after a week or so, just like that, she left.
I've seen her around, and she doesn't seem to recognize me, which leads me to believe that some cats have bouts of "blackout amnesia": they forget who they are and where they live, find a sap like me, then come back to their senses and forget who they were during the amnesia.
Or maybe it's a Walkabout, Australian-style?
Some years ago, Chimay left me and came back an agonizing week later. Pregnant. I had her fixed after she gave birth, on my bed, while I was sleeping and I didn't even notice. I opened my eyes and there she was, purring in a sphinx-like position smack dab in the center of the blood and fluid stained sheets. Her kittens were working their way under the blanket.
Even though I gave the bed a thorough cleaning, for MONTHS Chimay climbed onto the bed to dig her claws into the spot, lost in a trance-like state.
I kept them all, but one of them, Movi, died; Naima disappeared on the very eve of her operation, and Yuri left also, before I had a chance to have him spayed. Yuri came back three months later, for one day, and disappeared again, and has not returned. I don't feel bad about Yuri because he looked robust and groomed (in other words, Not Feralized), which probably means that he found a home. Remember, people love cats in my neighbourhood.
Yuri stood out. My friends had a nickname for him: King Of Snake. On two different occasions he presented to me, then devoured in front of me, a rattlesnake. Small rattlesnakes, of course. Yuri paraded in front of my friends, which made him the target of pampering, like the time he was our official taster for steamed baby clams. By the way, his name is Yuri because he was born on the thirty-eight anniversary of man's first flight into space.
Well, I seem to be carrying on and on, so I'll stop right here.
Now, where was that Worst Song In History forum?
