leticia

I keep trying to come back and post more, and failing miserably.

Have a cute cat story.

Now, some of you know, our house came with a feral kitty we call 'Momma Cat' because our first spring in the house, she had a litter under the house. The kittens all came inside, Momma Cat got trapped, spayed, and vaccinated before being re-released, and we've fed her since. She's used to us, comes up to the window and yells if we're late with her dinner, and generally acts imperious around here.

So, back a year or so ago, this poor baby started coming around my back yard:



While he was around, I couldn't put enough food out (you can see in the foreground that I'd taken to feeding Momma Cat right by the house so she'd actually get some) and he would bolt as soon as he knew he'd been seen, but he'd give such ...emo looks... while doing so, with big blue eyes.

Well, my mom has an ongoing problem with rodents in her garage/workshop building, so she wanted one of the ferals I was feeding as a 'barn cat'. I wanted to trap this baby because I felt sorry for him. (I also wanted to keep Momma if I was going to keep any; there's also a tux that shows up sometimes, though.)

She brought over a live trap, we set it up, and in a matter of hours, caught the exact cat I wanted; big matted black baby. He went to the vet, where it turned out he had an abscess on his face, terrible earmites, and a general not-doing-so-well diagnosis. Got those things treated plus his basic medical and went home to Mom's garage, where he proceeded to hide from her for three months.

Then, he apparently realized she was in fact feeding him, and started to come out to talk to her. From a distance, mind you.

That didn't last. Soon he was coming up for pets, then climbing on her lap, then she thought she heard mice in her house and took him inside (she has house cats, but part of the house isn't getting used much and she wanted him in there.)

Yeah, that poor bedraggled baby? This is him now:


He's a huge cat, 30 pounds, long haired, with those same big blue eyes, only now they're happy not haunted.

And Mom needs a new cat for the garage...

http://letiwolf.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/3998

That's mostly from our weekend trip, with a few pictures of the cats because they were on my camera and cats are too cute not to share.

Edited to insert one picture:

So here's pictures of the Crawlspace Kitten:

http://letiwolf.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/3730

About half of them are pictures where I was trying to capture the pure adorableness that is the way Remus was playing with him last night. The little kitten was chasing the 100 pound dog all over the house. I'm afraid a lot of the pictures don't do justice; I'll have to catch a video.

(And because I didn't clean this up at all, there are several pictures of "Dog back" or "Cat butt" and nothing more.)

I don't even know how to say this. I'm typing blind. My puppy... six months old, ALMOST, Rags... got hit by the neighbors car and killed.

It's not like we live on a road. We're off on a little dirt track. They shouldn't have been moving fast enough to kill him. Stupid arrogant bastards who sat there afterwards and said "sorry" in a smarmy little tone that meant "At least we won't have to pay vet bills. And you better hope that fucking dog of yours didn't damage our car."

And he died. He DIED.

I'm ok when our older pets die. They're old, they get sick, they die. It's part of life, it's natural, it's supposed to happen, and I love them and I'm sad and I miss them. But Rags was just a PUPPY. Not even six months old. Puppies aren't supposed to die. They're not supposed to get killed like that.

We don't even live near the road, so that our babies won't get killed and those bastards had to kill him anyhow. I hate them. I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM.

Do they have a mood for this? I'm so torn up inside. I loved this puppy. He was adorable. He was cute. He was sweet and loving. He got under your feet and in your way and into trouble every way he could, but he was always so happy to see you because he loved you so much. He always came when you called because he loved you so much.

...He won't come. I'll call and call and call and he'll never come again. He'll just lie there and get cold. And Dad's digging a hole behind the house. Pet cemetary, you know. We've buried at least a dozen pets in my lifetime. I love them all and I still expect them to get old and die. If my beloved Shadow or Autumn Dawn died tomorrow, I'd cry. But Rags had so much... LIFE. So much activity. So much sheer unbounded cuteness. And he died so... wantonly.

It wasn't even like a predator got him, natural cycle. It's just so wanton, arbitrary, awful.

Ok, I should be fair. They love pets too. They didn't mean to hurt him. They were just being stupid and careless and they probably feel awful about it. They'd probably agree with my anger. I should be fair - they didn't mean to, they're not evil, just STUPID. But it hurts.

We've buried him now. It makes me so mad/sad/unhappy.