If you guys read these posts, you might be familiar with my current cat situation.When the Mark Twain fire happened, I lost my cats Banky and Pauline. Eventually I adopted another tortoiseshell cat and named her Pollux.


She's become my little cuddlebug, and she's definitely the ruler of the cat roost. So she and I were going along great when I met a dude. After a while, I dubbed him Boyfriendo. Circumstances changed in life, and he ended up moving up here with me.  At first, he would tell me he was "not a cat guy", and would routinely joke about cooking her up for dinner. But after a few weeks, he was converted.

In fact, about six months into our little adventure, he decided he wanted a cat of his own. So I said, "Well, we're broke - so if you can find a free one, go for it."

He went to the newspaper and lo and behold, there were cats! Free to a good home, even. So off we went. We went to this little house out in the country and there were SO MANY CATS. So many. Dozens, easily. Most of them were average sized kittens, and were rascally enough. But then, in the corner, off by itself..... was a little half pound bag of skin and bones. I asked the owner, and he said that this one had a little trouble competing for food.  Apparently it also had some trouble getting beaten up by the other animals, as well.  He wasn't sure it was gonna pull through.

Well, you know what we had to do. I saw that little kitty and thought.... "It might die if we don't take it." We had our second cat.


Yep, we took that little bugger home. If she was really eight weeks old, she was a SMALL eight weeks old. She was so skinny you could feel every little bone in her body, and seemed to sleep all the time. I remember picking her up with then Boyfriendo, and I parked the car to get some kitten food. He took her out of the carrier and held her, and that was it. They were bonded. He named the cat Figaro after the cat from Pinocchio.

I made an appointment with my vet (the now retired Dr Gouge) and he confirmed my thoughts. He felt like she was either younger than thought, or malnourished, but probably both.  He said we needed to watch her pretty carefully over the next week and make sure she ate.  He told me not to give up, but don't be surprised if she takes a turn. We were nervous, but hoped for the best.


Well, then Boyfriendo definitely spoiled her rotten and made sure she ate plenty of kitten food, and eventually she put on weight. It took some time, probably about six months, until she got the all clear from Dr Gouge. That was several years ago, and she's nine pounds of trouble today. She went from being a half pound of shivering nothin, not bigger than the palm of your hand, to a ball of healthy crazy.


I know, Figlet.  Life is hard.

Cattingly yours,

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