We had been going to the shelter for a couple of weeks to see what was what,
and on this day we decided we were ready - if the right cat was there we
would take it.

We got to a cage with a cute big kitten sitting up on the shelf. We said
hello and she meowed and jumped down to come and meet us. We squatted down
by the front of the cage to have a chat with her. I turned to Janice to say
that this looked like a nice cat. While my head was turned, Tashie stood up
on her back legs, reached through the wire, and touched my cheek with her
paw, like, "I choose... YOU!"

Yay!!! Congratulations - you're getting your first kitties!

I'm sure they will love you! You're such a cat-lover, they won't have
any choice.

Good luck! Please keep us posted.

Joyce

Xoxo chose us. Kinda. He was rescued by a neighbor back when we lived in
 the condos. He became the condo cat, but we became his main
caregivers. We took him to the vet and fed him much better food than the
guy who rescued him did. :) Plus the guy had a cat who hated all other cats.
When our beloved Quetzie died, Xoxo mourned for him for weeks. He
dissappeared from the courtyard and we could hear him crying in the back
of the building at night. When we moved to our house, Xoxo came with us
and he's been a very happy indoor-only cat since.
Luna also kinda chose us. We went to get one kitten and we immediately
loved Maya's coat. However, Maya was doing her thing, smelling
everything and not staying put. Luna, on the other hand, had to be with
us. She *loves* people, so we decided to take them both.
Basho and Issa were selected by the breeder, so there was no choice
there, other than the choice of colors. :)
Fez definitely chose me and I chose Rufous. They were tiny 4 week old
abandoned kittens at the SPCA, part of a litter of 5. When I opened the
cage they were in, Fez got up from the pile, made a beeline for me and
started meowing. He still has the exact same voice.... :)
He obviously wanted to come home with me and I chose Rufous because he
was the biggest, fuzziest, orangest kitten I've ever seen.

I had finally reached a point in my life when I thought I was settled in
one place long enough to have a pet, and of course, I wanted a cat. I
wanted an apple-headed, traditional Siamese, and I got as far as making a
few enquiries, but at that particular time, no kittens were expected in my
area. Purely on impulse, I followed up on a 'free to good home' ad. The
family had neglected to spay their cat, and had two kittens left. The
parents had decided to keep one (and, I am happy to say, spay mother and
kitten). The other was 'Smokey', an adorable and very outgoing fuzzball (I
learned about the 'extremely territorial' and 'aspiring vet-shredder' bit
later). A friend's daughter thought 'Mandy' was a good name, and it
stuck. She didn't look nearly as much like a Smokey with the kitten fuzz
gone and the stripes more obvious.

About six months went by, and everything was so great, I figured two was
better than one, and anyway, Mandy might be lonely, being at home alone
during the day. So I starting thinking about making enquiries about
Siamese again. A friend - actually, the mother of the girl who named Mandy
- started telling me about this cat in their neighbourhood that looked so
much like Mandy they used to mistake him for Mandy. There were numerous
reports about this cat - how the kids on the street fed him, how the
tenants who owned him had moved out of the province without making any
arrangements for him. How the new tenants didn't want a cat around, and
the landlady said if he didn't get a home, she'd have him sent to the
local shelter, which always has far more unwanted cats than space to keep
them, especially the nearly grown and semi-feral ones. How their family
couldn't take a cat right now, and what a shame it was because this was
such a nice cat. Well, with PR like this, it wasn't long before I said,
OK, I'll *look* at him, and I'd take him to the vet for an initial
look-over, but if he wasn't healthy, or had something Mandy could catch,
I couldn't keep him. The new tenants happily cooperated in catching him,
and when I saw that terrified cat with the cute stripy face, I had this
feeling that I had a new cat, whatever the vet's report said. One of the
first things the vet noticed was that he was a she!

The initial introduction of Betsy (the name just seemed to suit her) and
Mandy was, ummm, tempestuous. They did eventually come to an agreement on
sharing the house.

Of the eleven who live with me at the moment:
 one came to supper and stayed (12 years ago) (Spooky)
 two came from asking a stranger (obviously a farmer) if he had any
extra kittens (Ozy and Millie)
 one came from a co-worker who was asking if anyone wanted one of his
surplus kittens (Fluffy)
 one was given to me by my boss - the stray came to his house but
they couldn't keep him (this cat grew up to become Fleagor The Great:
my magnificent alpha cat)
 the rest were obtained through local classified web ads
   two were abandoned and the people who found them couldn't keep
them (a brother and sister pair of kittens: Dandy and Maryweather)
   two (brothers - Avery and Mudpie) were culls from a rural family
who had too many
   the rest were 'moving and can't keep the cat' cases (Snowball,
Tigger)

Their pictures and stories, along with those of some I no longer have
are at <http://gearbox.maem.umr.edu/tdavis/cats/index.html>.

--
T.E.D. (tdavis@gearbox.maem.umr.edu)

After my dad took our cat away to a farm when I was a kid (for reasons I
still don't understand since he's the nicest dad in the world, all else
considering), I always wanted a cat.  Years of being in University (8) and
renting (5) later and I was practically foaming at the mouth to get a kitty.
Enter my husband who met an important condition of marriage - loved cats!!
We eventually bought a house and we were READY.

Like Cheryl, I had Ideas.  I had and Idea that I would get a Tonkinese cat
or a Siamese (also apple-headed as we had been illegally fostering one in
our apartment http://community.webshots.com/photo/8834368/8834462xhSvFrRMse
.  I had read up and read up and visited cat shows and was ready.  Fred was
totally against this and wanted to rescue a kitty from the shelter.  He
said, come on, we'll Just Look.  I knew that he had an extremely good point
and also knew that I would never realize my dream unless a shelter had one
of those kitties.  We drove up to the shelter and I knew we were facing our
destiny.  We were coming home with a cat and that was that.

We walked in and there was a kitten in a cage marked "Sweetest Siamese" ...
except he was white and grey on a Siamese body.  Ears twice the size of his
head.  http://community.webshots.com/photo/8834368/8834618OWNtVwYIRb and
http://community.webshots.com/photo/8834368/8835189DyzfITYCOg .  A man was
trying to get his attention but Otis (as yet un-named) hid in the back when
the man tried to baby talk him and rushed up to the front when I arrived -
stuck his paws out and grabbed me.  We took him out, Otis climbed all over
up one side and down side of me, purring like a mack truck, and we raced to
the shelter volunteer and said "THIS IS THE ONE".  They wouldn't let us take
him home right away, we had to wait five days to see if he was claimed since
he was a stray.  Five long days later, I went and picked up our little boy.
He immediately became the alpha creature of the house.

Chester's story is in your previous thread.

I'm very excited for you!

Susan M
Otis and Chester

Chatterley (RB) literally showed up on a roof of a wing of the house,
adjoining a bathroom. I became aware of being watched while on the
porcelain throne.  She accepted being taken in.

My ex and I were not yet married at the time, but she declared that when
we got married, Chatterley should as well. A co-worker, who lived on a
farm, had a litter of kittens, and she chose Clifford (RB) as
Chatterley's arranged mate. Wonderful cat, but the two never got along.

My current three were adopted at the same time from a rescue group.
Their practice is to open cages and put a cat of interest into your arms
as a first look. When they opened Rhonda's cage, however, while her
sister ignored me, she rushed through the door, into my arms, and began
vigorously licking my nose.

Ding was the one among his litter mates who took the most interest in
me.  With him, it was less an immediate bonding thing, and he's always
been the most skittish. He was born of a feral mother and socialized
once he was weaned, so he might not have been as tolerant of humans.

Mr. Clark looked up at me, very calmly. When I held him, he simply
shifted to a better cuddling position, purred, and looked wise. He was
the adult of the three, and has always been the most open to new
situations.

Bandit, when she was 6 weeks old, ran in my front door one day as I was
going outside to put out food for all the strays in my neighborhood.  I
picked her up to bring her outside to the food dish, but as soon as I put
her down she ran back inside, sat in the middle of the living room floor and
said, "You, this house, and everything in it now belongs to me and you will
be my faithful slave for the rest of my life!"  Well, we were, it was, and
we always have been.  She's

When she was 5 weeks old Demi rode to my DH's work in the engine compartment
of a coworker's pickup truck.  DH saw her drop down from there and run into
the nearest bushes.  He caught her, put her in a box, brought her home that
evening and she's been hiding from that scary truck ever since.  She's been
with us for 6 years now.

Jessie was originally owned my son (with her sister Taffy who still owns my
son), but he was young and broke and really couldn't afford to take care of
them both, so she found wealthier slaves when she was about 6 months old.
She's been with us for 5 years now.

When we were at our cabin on Lake Conroe we saw a feral mother cat with
kittens.  I caught one little orange stripey one, but he was too young to be
separated from his mom.  After I put him back the mom moved them and we
didn't see them again before we left for home.  This gave me a serious case
of kitten fever, so after we got home we went to the rescue group at the
local PetsMart to find a kitten.  As I was walking past one of the cages a
gorgeous silver tipped Persian reached out to snag my hand with one of his
paws when he then drew close to the cage and started licking - 'nuff said.
Percy (RB) was *NOT* at kitten, he was well over 10 years old.  However, he
was a breeder's stud who had been kept caged his entire life.  When we first
brought him home he could barely walk.  With patience and love we finally
got him to where he could run around batting his jingle balls with the best
of them.  However, the life he lead had taken its toll on him and he only
lived with us for about 9 months before succumbing to kidney failure.

We had no intention of getting another cat after that.  In fact, when a
kitten was turned in at the front of WalMart (having almost been run over by
the person who turned him in) just as we were leaving the store, the most we
were willing to do was bring him to the above-mentioned rescue group and pay
for him to be spayed and vaccinated and then adopted out (having a male in
the house, Percy (RB), had turned out to have caused *LOTS* of tension).
While we were there a woman and her daughter came in with 6 week old kittens
and said that a stray cat had birthed kittens in their closet and they
couldn't keep them.  I was struck by how much one of the kittens looked like
Bandit and walked over to have a closer look.  Bad move!!  Sammy reached out
and snagged my heart so fast it left my head spinning... the rest is
history!

Hugs,

CatNipped

Kajikit <kaji@labyrinth.net.au> had some very interesting things to
say about How did you choose your furry masters?:

There'll be someone who adores you. :-)

Most of my life, I've either had strays move in [my mother and her
father both have big visible-only-to-cats neon "sucker" signs on their
homes ;-) ] or kittens born at my place and never leave [not my fault
spay/neuter didn't happen! I was a kid at the time, no say in the
matter]. The one time I've ever deliberately gone seeking a cat, DH
and I settled on what we wanted [we weren't fussy, only criteria were
"young adult" age range, presence of tail, and reasonably sociable],
then I went to the shelter [he couldn't come along] and looked
everyone over who met the basic criteria. I wound up with one of the
several who reached out of the cage to grab me [and it was a *tough*
choice to make!].

From oldest to youngest:

Lady Jane Grey...  I decided that the next cat I wanted to adopt
should be a gray female, and previously declawed (Misty [RB] was our
only other cat at the time and was declawed by a previous owner -- I
didn't know enough at the time to realize that you could mix them).  I
also knew that I wanted to name her Lady Jane Grey.  It must have
pushed the limits of what could be called coincidence, but when we
called our TED to inquire about any cats he knew that were up for
adoption, he had a gray, declawed female who's owner had just given
her up.  I suspect mind rays from the mother ship had something to do
with this arrangement.

Smokey...  We'd heard from a friend about a Russian Blue declawed male
that was coming up for adoption as the 'owners' wanted to go catless
-- or at least Smokeyless.  Smokey came with his name.

Sumo and Natasha...   He's a black moggy who in his kittenhood had the
slim body of an Asian and with a little white belly band that reminded
me of a Sumo wrestler's sash or 'mawashi'.  Tasha was a Russian Blue
princess who didn't meet the breed standard and was weaned and cast
off too early by an unknown (and good for them, or I'd go slap their
face) breeder.  These two were cage-mates at the shelter and while I
was having a look at the Siamese triplets, Sumo reached out of the
cage and chose me with a gentle paw.

Squidget...  The 'squeaky midget' *chose* DH in the classic sense.
She was one of a collection of kittens up for adoption at the pet
store and as soon as Lynda walked in the door, she began meowing and
carrying on something fierce.  Upon being asked if this was normal for
her, the saleslady replied that this was the first time the kitten had
acted this way.  When fate takes a hand, why fight it?  Lynda came
home to get the carrier, leaving Squidget crying to break your heart.
The little thing was ecstatic to see Lynda again gladly hopped into
the carrier that would take her to her forever home.

Roxy...  Roxy was the little kitten who didn't play when she got here.
She had been bought as a house ornament by the son and daughter-in-law
of a close friend who thought they wanted a Persian of championship
blood lines.  I'm only glad that they had the good sense to give her
up for rescue when they found out that a cat didn't fit their
lifestyle.

No matter how they got here, we love them all and they will never want
for love or care.

Regards and Purrs,
O J

Kitty Monster (RB) - Was part of a litter of kittens a vet friend of
mine took in.  The lot of them would hiss and spit when anyone came near
them to begin with so they were named 'the kitty monsters'.  He was the
last one to go at about five months of age and he already answered to
Kitty Monster, so why mess with fate.  I got him because my vet friend
knew I was looking for my first ever of my very own cat and she threw in
first year shots free as well as neutering - which I got to watch.  He
was never the most sane of cats and eventually went psychotic (I mean
this literally) But he loved me unconditionally his entire life.  He
gave the greatest kisses.

Tony - Once again, knowing a vet was my downfall. (I worked in a vet
school for a while, they were all over the freaking place).  She had
rescued him from the middle of the road.  He was the cutest, fluffiest,
biggest furball head I had ever seen.  But he was black.  And I had just
never found a black cat that I thought was cute.  So I initially told
her no.  She insisted that I meet him.  All furry bits of him.  She said
she needed to get rid of him because she was going to be getting one of
her cats from home and it would give her too many animals and besides,
he was driving her other animals nuts. (This should have give me a clue,
but I didn't listen).  Long story short, I ended up with him.  Puffball
head and all.  And my life has never been the same.  Squirt bottles rule
my life to keep him under control.  He sleeps curled up next to me every
night.  And I never leave anything breakable on any surface area because
it is a guarantee he will knock it off and break it.  He has slowed down
only slightly now that he is 10 years old.  I'm not sure who chose who -
did my friend choose me, did I choose him or did he choose me?  Or was
it all three?  He is certainly bonded to me so at some point he chose me.

Stripey Thing - I chose him.  He was cute and orange and let me rub his
tummy and he was little.  I'm sure he did his part in choosing me by
letting me do all those things to him, but he was just darling when I
was choosing.  I had no intention of getting an orange stripey kind of
thing when I got him, but there he was and he was just perfect.  Shows
what happens when you go in with preconceived notions!

Mattie - Mattie chose me.  I went in to look for a little tiny kitten
only to find out they adopt them out at a different center now.  But
they did have her they said.  And they put her in my arms.  And she
leaned into me and licked my fingers and purred really loudly and in
general made herself at home in my arms.  How could I NOT go home with
her.  She was a dubious 7-8 months old, so now 8-9 months old, I think
probably closer to 10 months old.  And very much a kitten.  And I don't
regret not getting something littler and tinier.  She is just perfect.
But she definitely decided she wanted to come home with me and I was
most definitely NOT looking for something of her ilk when I went
looking.  She made a good decision for me.  I couldn't have picked out a
kitten with personality traits that would have stayed as constant.  Hers
are pretty well set in stone and I am glad I have her.

Twilight (RB) was the only non-orange kitten in the litter that belonged
to "friends of friends", when I wanted my first cat.

Shadow came 7 years later, after I acquired a DH who wanted a cat of her
own. She was bright, intelligent, and inquisitive (and hyperactive :-))

After rescuing kittens during a trip, we decided we wanted another cat.
Tigger (RB) was a 6 month old tabby who came into our arms and purred.

Cloudy was the result of kitten fever late in kitten-season. She was one
of the few female kittens still left at the Humane Society. She wormed
her way into our hearts very soon.

Misty was a 6-year old outdoor only cat who needed a home. She likes
ours just fine, as long as she can ignore the other interlopers.

Thunder is our first Ohio cat (after a move and losing Twilight). Bast
made sure we looked at him. He eased the loss of Twilight.

Pixel is my DH's cat (finally!), though he loves me too.

Velcro was a foster, while he recovered and his owners were located.
After a month and no owners, he was ours.

It took a long search to find Sneakers. We decided we wanted a kitten.
When we finally found him, he had the right combination of playfulness
and purr.  And he didn't want to go home with the shelter worker (like a
8-week old did).

    Kalynnda

Well, we got our previous kitties (Nosey and Scamp, both RB now) from a
girl in my ceramics class when I was in college (I was a 30 y.o.
re-entry student).  They were littermates who barely tolerated each
other- they'd pass in the hall and hiss...  I don't speak fluent cat,
but it was obvious that they were insulting each other.   Nosey went to
the Bridge 4 years ago, and Scamp followed early this year.  I couldn't
stand to not have a cat, so about a week and an half after we lost
Scamp I went to the not-so-local shelter and found Ming.  He's about a
year and a half old, kind of scrawny, with a rough coat, a MAJOR case
of ringworm (quarter-sized lesions all over his neck and chest), and a
significant heart murmur (turned out to be cardiomyopathy). He's a dark
Siamese marked Tuxedo cat...  He's got white paws and a bib, but the
dark mask, tail and legs of a Siamese/Burmese (visualise a short haired
Birman of sorts). He was in a cage with 4 other cats and everytime I
went past he would purr, arch his back and put his head down (it looked
like he was bowing).  Given his health issues, the shelter lady was not
very optimistic about his chances of being adopted.  There was just
something about him that I knew he was mine.  He's now nicely filled
out, the ringworm is all healed, his coat is in lovely shape and his
heart is being monitored.  We'd had Ming for about a month and a half
when my son's girfriend  called and said that her mother's office mates
had caught a litter of feral kittens.  The mother cat had been making
motions that they interpreted as an intention to move the litter, so
the office workers decided to grab the 6 kittens while they could.  The
kittens were about 4-5 weeks old, and 4 were adopted right away, with a
5th spoken for by a friend of one of the office people's friend.  That
left one little Siamese marked girl kitty...  Well, I have a thing for
little dark masks in light faces.  Buttercup joined the family and
within 24 hours Ming had adopted her.  Buttercup is now about 5 months
old, and is turning into one of the prettiest kitties I've ever known.  
She and Ming sleep together, wash each other and play together.  Here
are some pictures...

http://homepage.mac.com/kworley/photos/PhotoAlbum22.html

Katrina

I've alternated between finding strays in the back yard and having friends
and relations give me kittens.  A woman who took in a pregnant stray
gave me Spotsie (9 year old dilute tortoiseshell tabby spayed female)
and Jo (1 year old tortoiseshell and white spayed female) was a stray
that moved into the garden shed.

I can't claim credit for my three, since I didn't think I wanted or
needed a cat, especially seeing as I live in a "No fur pet" apartment
complex, just fish and birds allowed.

When I moved in here, the owners and manager were very pet friendly,
though, so there were several complex kitties. As you can tell, the no
pet policy was largely ignored. I quickly found out that if I put out
food the various complex kitties would come to visit. Of course, I
soon found that I was also feeding all the cats in the neighborhood.
We also had a few ferals in the neighborhood, including one mostly
white, black and white tom - who comes back into the story later on.

Anyway, one summer a friendly little black and white tuxedo kitty,
wearing a flea collar, started making regular appearances at the food.
When winter came she showed up pregnant, but I could never found out
where she lived. Along came an ice storm, and she was crying at the
door wanting in out of the cold. I let her inside, and she checked out
the place and decided to move in. I made a half hearted attempt to
find out where she came from - more to give her family an earful about
leaving her out in the cold in her condition than anything else.

I didn't figure I wanted or needed any cats, but it wasn't long before
she had her kittens (in the bedroom closet). So I decided that I was
stuck with them until they were weaned. They had to have names, so the
little bitty momma kitty became Little Bit, and her babies were Jug
Head, Little Brother, Tiny, and Sambo. I know, terrible names, but
blame the neighbor who ended up keeping Jug Head. By the time the
babies were ready to go to their forever homes, though, I found that I
was keeping the Little Bit and Sambo, who was quickly renamed Sammy.

Now back to the mostly white, black and white feral tom. After a
couple years the complex was sold, and the new owners decided to start
enforcing the no pet policy. I told them I was moving, and they
decided to grandfather those who had pets to keep old time tenants.
So, I ended up staying here, with Little Bit and Sam. Almost moving
made me decide that I needed to find that tom a permanent home. By
this time he was accepting a few scritches, so I found him a home with
a customer who wanted an outside barn kitty. But when the time came to
take him to his new home, I found that he, too, had wormed his way
into the family. Long, LONG, story a little shorter, he became my
third owner - named after Rocky Balboa because he came with scars from
living 8-10 years as an intact tom feral.

Weeble:  Found in one of our basement "window wells" who had been abandoned
by his Mama, along with one of his sisters.  She didn't make it (wouldn't
eat), but he did.  He was only a day or so old, still had a bit of dried
umbilical cord attached.

Ernie, Mimi, Moe (& their adopted out sister, Minnie):  Same Mama as Weeble,
different litter (been trying to trap her to get her spayed, but she avoids
the trap).  After adopting out Minnie, DH said that we were keeping the
rest, put his foot down, in fact (and almost stomped a tail in the process).

Lizzie:  She snagged DH's sleeve when he went to see what was available at
the local shelter.  This was a few days after we lost Ivy to CRF, and DH,
bawling the whole time, said that we were NOT getting any more pets....
sheesh.  Shelter has 24 hour wait before adopters can take adoptee home
(their paperwork says that it's to make sure that you have food & equipment
necessary to care for said pet).  When I went next day to claim her, she
ignored me, sitting like bast in the tiny litterbox, staring at the back of
her cage.  I got her out & she started purring & playing with a string on my
jacket.

Smokey:  came from a former co-worker/college student who was moving &
couldn't (or wouldn't) take her with.  she had not been spayed, and I don't
think she had ever been to a vet.  she was about a year old.

Ivy (RB):  stray cat had a litter of 5 (3 calicos, 1 grey tiger w/white
face/bib/belly & 1 orange tiger w/white face/bib/belly)  in our garage, but
then moved them to our next-door neighbour's crawl space.  They were under
one of our cars in the driveway & DH tried to catch them, but they fled to
our neighbour's wooded back yard.  He did manage to catch one, in a patch of
poison ivy, hence her name.  She wouldn't eat, except from a bottle, but she
had teeth, so I poured the KMR over her dry kitten chow, and she ate it...
and wanted MORE.  She followed me around the house & usually napped on me if
I were on the couch watching TV - but only if I were under the fuzzy blanky
(we almost buried that fuzzy blanky with her when she died, but the blanket
was a gift from my brother).

Tennessee Tuxedo (a.k.a. Crushinator, Jabba, Fat Boy, Lord Lard, Cartman,
Fat B@$t@rd):  given to use by a co-worker, who had an un-spayed barn-cat.
He gave away the kittens when they started getting out of the barn, and a
couple were killed by wild dogs/coyotes that roamed his area.  We paid for
his barn-cat to be fixed after that.

We'd decided to get two kitties when we got Jasper, and I just fell in
love with them all.  However, one of the cats at the sanctuary was still
looking after kittens, and two were described as being "only cats".  I
fell in love with a little tabby girl who just sat at the front of her
enclosure looking cute.  Rich, on the other hand, was very taken by a
small black kitten which was sneezing pitifully - he'd just had his 'flu
shot and was having a bit of a reaction.  It transpired that they were
in fact mother and son (or so the sanctuary had been led to believe),
and the sanctuary owner actually wanted them to go to a single home.  So
that's how we got Jasper and Jemima (RB).

After Jem's untimely demise, we wanted another cuddly cat - Jasper is a
very independent soul.  We went to another cat sanctuary this time,
where they had two that *might* be suitable; fully grown, female cats.

Minxy, a tortie, was terribly stand-offish when we went to see her,
giving the impression that coming over to meet potential new slaves was
actually a bit of an effort for her.  Carrie, by contrast, was very
vocal all the time we were talking to Minxy, batting on the wire mesh in
her enclosure and yelling at the top of her voice.  When we went to meet
her she leapt onto Richard and purred for all she was worth.  It was
love.  She definitely chose us.

Back in New York, my family and I were chosen by Scrappy (RB), a
gray-tabby-and-white who was cast out by my neighbors because there
was a new baby.  Swanson (also RB, named after the brand of TV
dinners), another gray-tabby-and-white, chose us.  He just showed up
on our front stoop one day and decided to stay, then one day he just
disappeared.  Scrappy went out prowling one afternoon and came home
with Ginger (RB), an orang-cream-tabby-and-white.  He was very old and
stayed with us until he passed away (we buried him in the back yard).
Mr. Spook, a tux, turned up in our carport one cold winter night.  We
made friends with him by giving him food and water, and bath towels
fresh out of the dryer to sleep on.  In six months, we had tamed him
enough to let him inside on hot summer days to sleep in the air
conditioning.  In June 1995, he and Scrappy went to the Long Island
Humane Society (a no-kill shelter in Nassau County) to live.  We were
moving down to Florida and unable to take them with us.

A few weeks after settling in Florida, Capt. Midnight (all black with
two small patches of white on his underside) showed up on our back
patio, and has been with us ever since.  Two years after that, after
the end of the Jewish High Holidays, Kitty Schottland (a dark orange
and black tortie) came to live with us.  She was adopted from the
animal hospital my mother worked for.  In May 2001, Lilith Kitten (a
tan, gray, orange, and white tabby striped tortie), age 13 weeks, came
to live with us.  So far, she's been the only cat we've raised from
kittenhood -- all the others were grown adults.

Trust me.  You're going to have a great time being a cat-mom.

Pix

Choose?? What do you mean, choose? I never chose the cats... My ex-wife did!
She was accompanying her friend to a breeder who had Devon Rex cats for
sale. You see, her (my ex's friend) landlord was allergic to cats, and she
wanted to find a cat that he could live with. Devon Rex is a breed that has
short fur and they can be a good choice for people who usually react to
cats.

She didn't have a car, so my ex had to drive her to the breeder's place. All
right, the friend found a nice cat, named Orvis. (Named after a fishing
rod..) And my ex found Loomis (another fishing rod). She came home to me and
asked if we could have a cat...? Did I have any choice? Noooo... Not at all.

All right, I was not inexperienced concerning cats, but it was more than 15
years ago. Anyway, Loomis was a perfect cat for us. As most of Devon Rex
cats, he was helpfull, talkative, happy, a nice bedwarmer and all that.
After a year we got another... That was a female called Tin?viel. She was
also a Devon Rex, and soon they had a bunch of kittens, four "Egyptians",
they were named after Egyptian pharaoes and godesses. We kept two of the
kittens, and when we split some time later, I kept Tin?viel and her son
Teti, and my ex ran off with Loomis and his daughter, Isis.

It is a nice solution, because if one of us have to go somewhere outside
town and stay away for a few days, we look after eahother's cats.

But anyway, did I choose the cats? No, I didn't, but I am so happy that I
have them here by me. They are my best friends!

Hans

My RB Mikey was given to me as a tiny kitten.  The office cats Ozzy
and Tiger just appeared on the office doorstep (separately, about a
year apart) and stayed.  Tallulah and Hubert came to live here when
one night Lula came bebopping up our driveway, pregnant.  She kept
coming back, and after a few days she wasn't pregnant any more.  Two
weeks later, she introduced us to her sole kitten, Hubert, and a few
days after that I nabbed them both and brought them inside.

------
Krista

Persia chose me.  I have no idea why.  She showed up at my back door one
afternoon, January 6, 2001.  Meowed and meowed, demanded to be let in.  I
admit I tried to shoo her away.  She came back.  It was bitterly cold that
day and as the sun set and it was 28 degrees farenheight.  I couldn't stand
the thought of her out there in the cold.  I said to myself, okay... I'll go
to the store and get "cat stuff" and if she's still there when I get home
I'll let her in.

I went to Walgreen's, bought a bag of cheap cat food, a plastic water/food
dish and a litter box and some litter.  When I came back it was even more
cold and I let her inside.  She was cautious.  She inspected the apartment
and apparently pronounced it fine.

I took photos of her and printed up flyers which I posted around the
neighborhood.  I noted she had been front declawed.  I called area shelters
and vets.  Also contacted the apartment office.  No one had reported her
missing.  I had no intention of keeping her.  I'd never been around cats
before and my dog had died in 1999 so I wasn't sure I wanted a furry master.

By day 3, however, she had claimed my heart.  For one thing, that first
night she curled up on the pillow above my head and slept there.  The next
thing she did was start to get into my cabinets and drawers with those deft
little paws.  My dog was smart, but he wasn't smart enough to figure that
out.  By the third day I realized I was completely won over and was the
proud owner of a cat.  I said, "Well, I have to call you something."  The
name Persia popped into my head.  She was walking away from me at the time
and I said it out loud.  She immediately ran back to me.  Hmmm, so that's
your name!

I took her to the vet, where they checked her for microchips.  None (now
she's chipped).  They did a thorough checkup and pronounced her healthy and
about 2 years old, also probably spayed due to scar tissue on her belly.
I've been hers ever since.

Don't worry about a cat not liking you.  If you do what others suggest, go
to a shelter and let the cat pick you out.  Persia certainly picked me out;
I have no idea why.  Somehow they just *know*.

Jill