Cats I Have Known

When I was young we had a cat for a few years - our cleaner brought her from a refuge - she (or maybe he) was called Tuppence, and was a sleek tabby cat. I don't have photos of him/her but remember one of him/her standing proudly in the rowan tree in the garden

This isn't Tuppy, but it could be!

S/he was adopted in order to catch mice, but was totally uninterested in the catching process! The only time I remember seeing him/her with a mouse was when Little Nipper caught one

This isn't OUR Little Nipper, but it could be!

Tuppy trotted proudly aroud the house, carrying the dead mouse, with Little Nipper still firmly attached! "Look mum! Look what we caught together!!"

Unfortunately Tuppy came to a sad end when s/he ruptured his/her diaphragm with a too-ambitious leap. We were all so upset that my mum vowed never to have another cat!

 Since I left college there haven't been many years when I have been without a cat. First I adopted Sophie, when I lived in London in a shared house. She was beautiful, but evil. When I had to move to a flat on a busy road Mr FD's mum & dad took Sophie on. She used to sit on the arm of a chair, and when their 3-legged old cat Pookah went by, Sophie would drop onto his back so he collapsed under her. Cruel. She met her fate being run over by a tractor.

 This isn't Sophie, but it could be!

Then when we got married we adopted Manda. She had belonged to people who lived along the balcony to us, but who had gone back to their native Italy, leaving Manda in the care of Jack, the old guy who lived next door to us. He had a bruiser of a cat (called Buster, I think) but Manda was a bit too girly to fit into this masculine household, so when I won a competition with a prize of 384 tins of Kit-e-Kat, we offered to take Manda on.

This isn't Manda, but it could be!

She lived with us through two moves, and became diabetic when she was about 16 years old. She was finally put to sleep at the age of nineteen-and-a-half, when she just became too old to be comfortable. She was soiling her bed, and couldn't walk far. It was sad - but she had reached a great age.

We moved to France and quickly adopted Pomme and Biscuit. You will have heard about Pomme, 

 

 This is Pomme

and seen photos of her, but maybe not Biscuit. When I went to the refuge I knew I wanted two cats. Pomme endeared herself to me by jumping onto my shoulders and purring into my ear: she was about 2 yearsold. And then I saw poor Biscuit (only she was called Arc-en-Ciel (Rainbow) by the refuge.)

This isn't Biscuit, but it could be!

Biscuit was a pale coloured Manda, and had been in the refuge for over 5 years. Although I had meant to get a younger cat, her likeness to Manda, her age (more than 8 years) and her sad eyes called to me, and I adopted her.

Unfortunately, she had already contracted a virus in the refuge, and when I got her home she quickly became quite ill. Due to the terrible care offered by the local vet, she sadly died five days after I got her home. My only comfort is that she died somewhere where she was loved, cared for and not in a rather impersonal refuge.

So, having paid a rather large amount of money for a cat who died, I went back to the refuge and requested another cat. They weren't too impressed by this, but finally agreed, so we chose Pumpkin (originally called "Margot") 

This isn't Pumpkin, but it could be!

This is Pumpkin - the only photo I have of her on my camera

Pumpkin had been born in the refuge and we adopted her at about 6 months old. She was a great cat - a real individual who would retrieve things if you threw them. She was "my" cat, and I loved her dearly. Unfortunately, she contracted Feline leukaemia; the vet thinks that her mother had it, and so Pumpkin was born with the disease. Our yearly vaccinations kept her healthy and alive for 4 years, but finally she succumbed to the illness and we had to have her put down. That was a very sad day and despite our other lovely cats, I do still miss Pumpkin.  

Our friend Martine promised us that when her cat next had kittens we could choose one, and so, when on 23rd April 2010 the kittens were duly born, we chose George

George at 3 weeks old

George's brother and sister were adopted too - one (The Tiny Breton) going to Brittany and the other going to the mother of the girlfriend of Martine's son.

 Mum, with (from L-R) The Tiny Breton (black & white), George, and The Other (tabby)

Due to the fact that the people who were going to adopt The Other changed their mind (they didn't want a tabby) this little cat was going to meet her fate in The Bucket. We couldn't have that, so George and The Other (now named Mildred or Millie, for short) came home with us.

This is George at 1 month coming to our 25th Wedding Anniversary party in a basket!

 And this is George a couple of years later, not fitting in his basket!

Then Bib (or Bibendum, to give her her full name) joined the party. 

On 1st June 2012 I found this little baby at the R&D site of Michelin where I was working. If we'd left her she would have died of starvation or been run over by a truck, so I brought her home to stay.

This is my favourite photo of Bib.

She's now much more grown up, but is still a little tinker. She and Millie don't really get on, with Bib being scared of Millie - but sometimes standing up to her from time to time.

I can't imagine being without cats, but I do think that if I didn't have Mr FD to stop me, I might end up like the mad cat lady from The Simpsons, with hundreds of cats milling around me!

And so, to finish on, here's a very appropriate Lolcats: