"Fur Children"

I just saw KevinBacon's post about families. As I am both single and childless, I immediately thought of my furry, four-legged "children." 

From L-R, we have: Trey, the attitudinal Siamese mix who I quite literally stole off of a friend's back porch; Tater Tot (also known as "Tot," "T Tot," "Teeter Totter," or simply "You big DOPE!), the random stray who showed up in my driveway; and Mr. Bojangles, the epileptic Ragdoll and the ONLY pet that I have ever sought out from a breeder. I'm glad I did, too, because his medical issues would have likely caused him to have been euthanized by now otherwise. I am so thankful that I worked in an animal hospital when his seizures started!

Alright, everyone. Time to brag on your furbabies! 3...2...1... GO!

Funny story about how Tot ended up in my life. He showed up in my driveway one night, like I said. I happened to be outside helping my father (who was visiting from out of town) load his car for his planned early departure. I felt something rub against my ankle, and looked down to see the CUTEST KITTEN THAT EVER EXISTED. I took one look at him and said, "DO YOU WANT TO LIVE HERE?????"

My father, thinking of the fact that I already had 2 cats to take care of, immediately said, "NO."

My response??

The goofy cat now spends more time in my father's lap than mine... Typical cat.

WHAT YOU THINK I'M STUPID!!! MY DAD'S NOT A CELL PHONE!!!

They are sssooo cute!!!

Thanks :)

Ooh, a fur babies thread! Here's way too many words about our kids (all shelter adoptees):

We have three kitty lottery winners, all of whom are spoiled rotten (and I make no apologies for that!) There's Westley, first of all. AKA Bubba, Dubya and Big Fuzz, Westley has been my shadow for 20 years now. I wasn't going to adopt a kitten the day I went to the shelter, I was just going to accompany a friend who wanted a dog. But then I saw this beautiful black tabby kitten, and that was it. Westley (Princess Bride reference) sleeps at the foot of my bed; in fact, he's never more than five feet from me usually. I say usually, because he's very old and arthritic now, with an extremely painful back (Tramadol twice a day helps that) hyperthyroidism and gradually failing kidneys, so he often finds a quiet corner somewhere to sleep these days. I agonize every day about whether I'm doing right by him. He takes more meds than I do and has special food to eat, but every once in a while he'll get playful and let me cuddle him, and he purrs so hard it makes my heart melt. So I've asked him to tell me when he's ready, and I have to do my best to watch for that signal and take action when needed. I will miss this kitty with every fiber of my being, though. There will never be another I will love more in my life.

When Westley and I moved in with the husbeast, he grew jealous. He'd had dogs most recently, but they'd been gone a good while, so my hubby decided we should adopt another cat. And along came Ringo.

Ringo is a doofus. He's lovable and sweet, and about as sharp as a bag of wet mice. We affectionately call him Four now, because he's gone through at least five lives! He's also known as Idiot, Dumbass, Chunko, Lumpus, Nubbinhead and Muffinhead. He's a pudgy looking little guy who got up to 16 pounds once, but we managed to pare him back down to a stocky 12. The pudge look comes mostly from his fur, though. He has the thickest coat I've ever seen on a cat, it's dense and soft and just plush, your fingers really sink into his fur. He has a ridiculously extra long tail, which we grab and shake back and forth and he doesn't mind at all. He looks like he has huge cheeks, but it's just hair:

Here he is fetching a nubbin (milk carton ring), his favorite game. Everything in the world is a toy to Ringo, as long as he can pick it up in his mouth. Socks, underwear, toys on strings and sticks, catnip mice, whatever. He'll drag it to you, drop it on your foot and meep at you (he doesn't meow, he has a stupidly high pitched voice and can only meep, chirp and peep like a baby bird). Ringo is also disgusting in terms of his personal grooming. I guess he never got the memo about cats being so clean, because he's filthy, and regularly gets stinky. Every other month or so I have to take him to be bathed and groomed...what cat needs a routine bath?! But he's so sweet, you just have to look at him or start talking to him and he starts purring and begging for belly rubs.

Albert came along because Ringo harassed Westley. He wanted to play, and of course Westley wanted nothing to do with it, so we decided to try a third kitty to give Ringo an option. Along came Albert. Albert ended up being totally the husbeast's cat. He's the smartest animal I've ever met, dog OR cat. Albert understands way too many human words, and what words he doesn't know don't matter...he reads us so well he knows what we're going to do before we do it. I have taught him a bunch of tricks, like sit up, sit down, give me paw, high five, etc. He learns them amazingly fast, but he'll only do them if he knows you have a food reward for him! Smart kitty. ;)

I don't have a picture of Albert right at the moment, I'll have to check my phone for one. Albert is another black medium-haired cat with a long Oriental style head and extremely puffy tail. Except he pulls the hair from his tail. Albert has emotional issues. For the entire first year he lived here, he did nothing but walk around moaning the whole time. Just "Mrrrrr. Mrrrr." constantly. He's getting much, much better, and now actually loves to be picked up and held, but he still barbers the tail. I'm hoping as he gets even more comfortable he'll stop feeling the need to pull hair. Albert is also the most dignified kitty ever, it's hard to describe but he just has a gravitas that the others don't. Albert doesn't just look at you, he *watches* you. We named him Albert because he has two big dark grey tufts of fur that stick out from behind his ears, reminding us of Albert Einstein. We had no idea how fitting the name would be! (I call him BertBert more often than not, though).

Yes, we love our kitties.

Your babies are precious! I love their stories ;)

Ringo reminds me of my Sydney, who used to love hair ties.  In fact, he'd hide them in the food dish, and then in the middle of the night he'd jump in bed with me, wake me up by patting my nose, and expect me to toss the hair tie across the room.  Yes, he'd play fetch!

Our dapper cat, Allister. 

Our old grumpasaur Casper 

They love me. Can't you tell?

Allister is rockin' that bow tie! I'm so partial to black cats. And Casper does indeed look grumpy, poor baby hates hats?  I have to admit, I find it great fun to "torment" our kitties (no, not real torment, just silly stuff like put hats or bandanas on, or put them in a cardboard box full of packing peanuts). They have such a sense of dignity, and doing something goofy to them like putting a hat on really ruffles the fur for some of them. It's amusing to see them looking all put out.