Willow Oak

[Randi]

Pete has such a sweet face, and yes, he certainly hit it off with Thumber.

Love the picture of him in the bird feeder, and the one where he and Thumper are sharing secrets. LOL! Thumber looks like he's in heaven, there on the blanket. It's great they get along so well!

[Willow Oak]

So far among the cats you've met are Cougar, who had all his teeth extracted; Pete, who I found at work; Buddy, the "wild" cat that took me four years to catch and tame; Cleopatra, the beautiful Himalayan who no one seemed to want; her babies: Pinky, Lightly, and Darkly; Thumper, the "Killer Kat;" And Smokey, the lone survivor of Sheba's babies.

There are others. First there is Boots. Boots came to me from somewere. He wasn't there, then suddenly there he was. Boots has been with me for about seven years. Boots is a Tuxedo, and he is a very smart and loving kitty. Boots is a "wanderer." But he almost always shows up at bedtime. And he talks a lot. I can go outside and call "Boots!" And if he is nearby he will answer and come running. What a smart kitty Boots is!

Boots:


Tiger's story is a sad one. He was found alive from among a litter of kittens that had been dumped on one of our country roads. All had lost their little lives except for Tiger. Tiger is the quietest animal on the premises. I never hear a peep out of him. He is sweet and calm, and he loves to snuggle with the dogs. He sleeps in my bed -- especially if Oscar is there. He loves to sleep with Oscar.

Tiger:


BKI and BKII (Black Kat I and Black Kat II) were born to a stray that lived with my neighbor relative. They were born there and lived there for the first few months of their lives. One day I was outside with the other kitties and suddenly BKI and BKII were there where I was. And they have been with me since. Somehow they figured that life with me would be better than life with my neighbor relative. They are both so much alike that I cannot tell them apart. Both love to talk and both are very affectionate. They are sweet and very untroublesome.

BKI or BKII?


BKI or BKII?


(Actually both pictures above could be the same cat!)

I have so many cats, that I can positively say that I have a lot of cats! Please tell me: what is there in this world that beats having a whole bunch of cats? And the best part is, I can pick any one up and love on it and it will purr and love me back.

Eat your heart out!

[gini]

My very first pet was a dog. Oh, how I loved that dog and she loved me.
Tragically she was taken from me at far too young an age - one year.
I grieved for her for a long time.

My second pet was a cat - Sugar - the love of my life - he left me for the Rainbow Bridge at the age of 18.

I have had two kitties since Sugar and lost them both to serious illnesses which made me search for Pet Talk and answers.

Now I have three - and today a dear friend lost her kitty. It made me come home after helping her and bury my face into my love, Rascal, and tell him that I love him, and he will always have the best care I can afford to provide for him.

Through all of life's joys and tribulations I am grateful that I have always had a kitty on hand to share my life and allow me to shower them with love and care. There just isn't anything like a kitty, even one who likes to chew on my hair and scalp at 4 am!!!

His sisters Annie and Emma round out my tribe and make life wonderful and happy! God knew what He was doing when he created cats.

[Willow Oak]

I have lost a few friends through the years. The grief is always with me. When I contemplate the pain that accompanies the unexplained disappearance of a furry friend I turn my thoughts to those parents who have lost a child through some nefarious means. I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like for them.

Pookie was found wandering the roads by a neighbor when she was a pup. I was asked to look after her, and she remained with me until just before I had the fence constructed, then she suddenly vanished. She escaped the back yard fence and I've not seen her since. I have grieved for her lately especially. She was the smartest of all my dogs.





There have been others. There was Roy. Row, a beagle, looked very much like Cathy. He is another one that I rescued, and when he arrived he was skin and bones and all-over mange. As beagles do, however, he dug his way out of the backyard fence, and I've not seen him since.



I miss Charcoal, a beautiful Persian kitty -- black with a silver mane. He came to me from "out of the woods." He too, was very smart and affectionate. He has been missing for a couple of years.

Biscuit came up missing shortly after I bought Willow Oak. She was a long haired, brindle-colored pup, very smart, and very affectionate.

Socks, I have already talked about. I lost him through sheer stupidity.

I had to learn the hard way with beagles. When I rescued Sally she was nothing but skin and bones. She has been missing for a couple of years. With beagles you must keep them on a leash or in a kennel.

I miss them. They are gone. It hurts.

[sasvermont]

It must be a continual heart break for you, to invest so much time and love in a dog or cat and then have it up and leave you. I think some pets just have that "wandering gene" and cannot stay in any one place for a long time period. I know some breeds are known for "moving on" or "wandering" much more often than others.

I suppose you could consider them boarders rather than residents? It would be nice if they could leave a note or something. If they could leave notes, I bet the notes would give you some comfort. ...... Dear Dad, thanks so much for the grub and warm beds and of course, for all the love and attention. I must continue on my journey even though I know what a cushy life I would have if I decided to stay here. Wish me luck.........

I don't know how you do it. You are an animal's best friend, for sure.

[Willow Oak]

It must be a continual heart break for you ...

And it continues ..., well not the heartbreak. Not just yet.

I could call the local animal shelter and offer them $1000. They would gladly stop, drop, and roll. They would come to my house, load up all my animals, clean up the mess they leave behind, mow my grass, wash my dishes, and fill up the tank in my car, and I would be done with the whole mess. Then maybe I could go out and buy a steak; chase women; buy a boat; drive fast in a sports car; maybe even run for vice-president! [Sorry! I couldn't resist!]

I could do that except for the fact that I can't do that.

So it is, and so it was that evening as I neared my house. I have a three hour round-trip to and from work each day, and was within three minutes of arriving home from work. All would be well. Feed and water the dogs and cats that I already have; give Bonnie her evening medicine; take my evening medicine; fix my dinner; sit down to watch TV or play on the computer -- just relax.

The last little community through which I pass on my way home is the obsolete town of Winnesoga. Winnesoga is within a couple of miles of my house. Basically, all that remains is a railroad crossing and a couple of weed-infested, overgrown and crumbled foundations of what had once been a country store and a post office. There are also a handful of mostly dilapidated old dwellings. People actually live in those structures. As I pass through the area I occasionally see small children playing in one of the yards; a cat or two cleaning itself on the front porch of one of the houses; or a dog or two milling about the wooded area.

On this particular day I saw something more than that. Just as I drew up to the railroad crossing I slowed down, as I a wont to do, and right in the middle of the road was a very tiny, almost too small to see bundle of chocolate brown fur. I immediately recognized it as a pup -- probably way too young to even be weaned. I stopped my car and got out. The little tyke ran to the side of the road and underneath some trash that was piled on the road's shoulder. Looking about I could see no one, but I did see the pup's mother, a black and tan, standing near one of the buildings and looking not very concerned.

I walked over to investigate the pup, and upon lifting a piece of plywood found two more pups. Well, I already knew within my soul what was coming. I pulled my car into the house nearest to where I had stopped and honked my horn. I inquired of the gentleman about the dog and the pups, and he assured me that the dog wasn't his. The dog was a stray and had been in the area for a few weeks. I should check with the lady next door.

When I honked my horn at the house next door, a lady and her two little girls exited. Yes, she had been throwing table scraps to the dog, yes it was a stray, and, oh by the way, there were three more pups under the house. The little girls retrieved the other pups. “Does anyone have a box I could borrow?”

With the help of the little girls and their mother and the gentleman next door, I managed to corral the puppies into a cardboard box, and ensconce the momma dog into my car, and then it was off to my house. The much anticipated evening of relaxation was not to be.

Four males and two females. Two black and tans; four solid blacks; one chocolate brown. And a momma dog. Plus the nine I already had ..., the next week was to be one of mostly sleep-deprivation, cleaning ..., well, you know what I was cleaning; mopping floors; extra mouths to feed; waking up through the night to sounds of crying and barking. In the meantime I called the animal shelter and they agreed to take the pups ..., would I keep them until they were weaned? I agreed, so another couple of weeks of sleep deprivation to look toward.

There is one thing though. Grace has been a real help so far. You can imagine that cleaning up after six pooping puppies is quite a chore. They tend to get in the way, so when it comes time to clean up I call Grace: “Here, Gracie! I need your help.” She already knows her name, so she comes running. She will lead the pups into another room and keep them occupied while I clean up the room they've messed up. When I am finished, she will then usher them back into the room I just cleaned. She really is a good helper!

To be continued ...

[Willow Oak]

In case you were interested ...

You've all seen the movie "Walking Tall," about sheriff Buford Pusser. Well, the story takes place in Selmer, Tennessee. The row of cat houses that Sheriff Pusser busted was located on the Tennessee-Mississippi state line, which is about a quarter of a mile from Willow Oak. The area of the cat houses is within three miles of where I live.

Mary Winkler lived (and murdered) her husband in Selmer, Tennessee, which is 12 miles distance form here.