Tigs down. I fell in love with him; Bernie fell in love with the other orange guy peeking behind him.
We didn't adopt them then; we were still debating if we should try to adopt kittens or adopt adult cats; cats that need a second chance.
Three of our favorite cats were adult adoptions, but we suspected that Hart would have a very hard time sharing his world with adults.
Tigs, we drove to the Humane Society to ease the pain by cuddling some of the cats. The little guy Bernie liked had already been adopted by a couple; my little heart throb had a "kitty cold" and was back in foster care.
Petsmart near our house to see if some cats that we had admired earlier were still available for adoption. They were...and after holding this young blue point Siamese female, who had been hand raised on a bottle, I knew I had found a wonderful cat.
siamese "wide body". She was released by a family facing a medical crisis, and the foster family said "Frenchie" was their absolute favorite. Frenchie followed everyone in their family around, and allow children to play with her. Bernie held her while all around us swirled kids, cat carriers, kennels being slammed...and Frenchie didn't even bat an eye. She looked up into Bernie's eyes and just purred and relaxed.
That settled it. I had the little Siamese baby girl wrapped around my neck purring; we switched cats and decided these two would be purr-fect. (As I am typing this, the little girl is walking on my shoulders, checking out what I am typing as if she wants to make sure I am reporting the fact right.)
Frenchie originally was named Emma...the foster family decided she was Frenchie. She snores and has a hoarse meow, and white gloves. Age five, and an arm load of love!
We brought the two girls home and two days later Bernie had to be in South Carolina for a week.
It was up to me to integrate the cat family.
Frenchie and the little girl were locked up together in our wine/library room.
Frenchie let "Bitsy" know that SHE was in charge.
I held Bitsy and let her purr and sleep on me.
The day after Bernie left, I went back to the Humane Society to adopt my orange boy.
The adoption papers had a lot of questions which I answered easily, right up until I reached the one that asked:
Does every member of your household know that you are adopting this cat?
It was late back on the east coast, but I called Bernie anyway.
"I'm at the Humane Society and I want to adopt the orange kitten. Is that OK with you?"
He was kind of stunned...then said "Oh what the heck!"
I came home with my baby orange boy.
His foster mom had said he was the sweetest kitten she had ever fostered. I think she was telling the truth.
Oh and the people at the Humane Society told me that he had marched up under the muzzle of a German Shepherd about to chow down. The "boy" wrapped his tail around the dog's mouth and dug into the food himself!
Well, Bitsy ran up to join him. It was like two kids hooking up on a playground! The kitty toys were flying!
Frenchie had a "oh my gawd" look and turned her back to the whole celebration.
I decided to call the boy "Tate"...and he wasted no time in getting hissed at by Frenchie, but held his ground and gave her tail a swat just to let her know she wasn't the boss of him!
Bitsy Blue Eyes is ever so beautiful and sleeps with her paw wrapped around my forearm.
She will likely be renamed as she is growing very, very quickly.
Since she looks so much like my grandkitty Cessa, we are thinking of calling her CJ, for Cessa Junior.
(Plus a very nice librarian that I used to work for went by CJ...Carolyn Jacobson....Carolyn would also be a nice name for her.)
Frenchie. She wants to be alpha cat. He currently has a broken meower; perhaps sore throat from hissing at the babies? (Now Tate is on my lap watching the words appear on the screen..)
CJ? Carolyn? Bitsy? Mostly I just call her and the rest of them "Sweetie" because I can't remember their names!
NCIS! Smart girl!
The three new ones sleep with us. Sadly Tigs and Hart used to own the lower left corner of the bed; Hart is not game to sleep with Frenchie.
Now he is called Old Hart.
Each cat is staking claim to their own "spots" in the house.
The Boy decided more drastic measures were in order.
(Missy kept looking through all our windows, like "Hey, why didn't you just adopt me? I'm over here all the time anyway!)
I have noticed over the years that Hart has finally gotten the knack of posing for attention when needed.
Our handsome gray tuxedo cat, who misses Tigs and wonders what has happened to his routine.
So that is our "little" cat family.
Eventually we will settle in to names, or just give up and keep calling them all Sweetie.
I think I am going a tad senile.
I'm starting to call EVERYONE Sweetie now days!