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RB Kitty story invite (Rocky's Story" reposted - Longish)
In another thread Lori (catnipped) said she enjoyed reading a post I
made about Rocky, who departed for the bridge not long ago. She said, and I agree, that it's good to hear about our companions who are waiting for us at the Bridge. So I went back and edited "Rocky's Story, which was originally posted last September. I'm inviting those of you with a favorite story about a RB kitty to post it, whether it's a new story or just a repost for those (like me) who are too lazy to wirte something new. ============ Rocky's (RB) Story (in his own words) (Re-edited and an Epilogue added, but original posted in early September, 2004) ========== Part One - I Become the King It's been a while now since I joined my family, so I figured it was time to sit down and tell my story. I probably wouldn't bother, but the one the hoomin calls Sammy tells me both she and her momma, Little Bit, have told their stories and so guess I should tell mine. I can't tell you much about my early years. Really have no idea how old I am. I know that the cold and hot times came several times. My Momma taught me how to hunt for food, how to find cool spots when it was hot, and warm spots during the cold times. Momma taught me from an early age that hoomins weren't to be trusted. I figure she was right about most stuff, but I've found that at least SOME hoomins are OK. When I got bigger, momma and I got separated. I really don't know where she went. Things were pretty rough there for a while. All the older, bigger cats didn't want me around. I regularly got beat up until I learned how to fight and protect myself. After a couple more hot and cold times came and went, it got so that I was winning more fights than I was losing. Things were starting to look up. I established my own little territory where I was the King. All the other cats in the neighborhood gave me the respect I deserved. When some young upstart gave me grief, I'd either whip 'em into shape or make their life so miserable that they moved out of my kingdom. There were always hoomins around, but I avoided them as much as I could. Part Two - Changes After living the good life for a couple more hot and cold times, a couple things happened that changed my life. You see there was a group of hoomin dwellings in my kingdom where a brown-nosed tom cat used to hang around. I later learned he was what the hoomins call a tuxedo kitty. He had a white face and a black nose. I always called him "brown-nose" because of how he was always cozying up to the hoomins. The hoomins called him Spot, and he always claimed he was an official "apartment complex cat". It sure worked for him, he used to go inside the various hoomin houses to sleep at night, got out of the worst weather, and got all the best food. The other thing that happened which ended up changing my life was that about this time a new hoomin moved into one of the hoomin houses. Eventually I'd end up trusting this particular hoomin, even let him pet me, but that was still in the future. The first thing about this new hoomin that changed my life was when he learned about Spot he started putting food outside for Spot to eat. Guess the hoomin hoped Spot would come in and spend the night sleeping on his bed. I couldn't have cared less about going into the hoomin's house, but the food he put out was GOOD, and I started eating it, too. Life was even better than before. All us neighborhood cats had a new source of good food, which is always welcome when you're not sure when the next meal is coming. At first I ran and hid whenever I saw the hoomin, but over time I learned that he wouldn't throw things or chase me away. So, after a time I stopped running whenever I saw him. After a while longer I started going closer and waiting next to the bowl while he filled it up with the good stuff. I learned a startling fact, it actually feels nice when a hoomin scritches you in that certain spot that you just can't seem to reach behind your ear. Part Three - Betrayal and My First TED Visit Life was good. I had the occasional challenge to my rule of my kingdom, but still won most, if not all, of my fights. After one fight, though, I had a war wound that just wouldn't get better. It REALLY hurt and just wouldn't heal. The hoomin noticed that my leg was swollen about three times the size of the other one. He tried to touch it, but I wasn't about to put up with that, so I hightailed and stayed away for a while. After a couple days I was getting really hungry, so I decided to go back and see if he was still putting food out. When I got there the food bowl was full, and I was so hungry I let the hoomin take a close look. The next morning when I went back to eat the hoomin was there waiting for me. I bent over the bowl and he snatched me up and stuck me in a box with bars. Next thing I knew he carried me over to one of those big moving monsters that the hoomins sit in and ride around in. The hoomin put me inside the monster, it made a lot of noise and we were moving. It seemed like forever, but probably very all that long before we stopped and the hoomin carried me inside a different hoomin place. The hoomin talked to some other hoomin, then after waiting a while carried me to a smaller room. We waited again until another strange hoomin came. This was the worst hoomin yet, and I was really beginning to think momma had been right after all when she told me not to trust hoomins. This new hoomin looked at me through the bars on the box, and they opened the side of the box. I made a break for it, but there was no place to go. They threw something over me and held me so I couldn't defend myself while this new hoomin poked and prodded me. It ended up with this new hoomin sticking me with something sharp, but it didn't TOO hurt much. When they put the box with the bars on the table I decided it was a lot safer inside the box than outside. So, when they loosened their grip a bit I darted back into that box. Turned out, though, that's what they wanted. The hoomins exchanged some of their strange noises. The hoomin who betrayed my trust picked up the box, and carried me back to the moving monster. After the monster stopped moving again, the hoomin picked up the bar-box. When he put down the box I found I was back where the ordeal had started. The hoomin opened the side of the box, and I was OUT OF THERE. It may sound strange, but after the trip in the monster and having that strange hoomin stab me with the sharp stick, my leg stopped hurting and healed up a lot quicker than war wounds normally do. Just to be safe, though, I stayed away for several days before I went back to check for food. For a long time I didn't trust the hoomin and kept my distance. Eventually I forgave him, after all he kept putting out food, and things went back to the way they were before. Part Four - Little Bit and Sammy Move In - Another TED Visit I was still the King, I lived the good life, my sore leg was good as new. Sometime during this period Spot, the self proclaimed "complex" cat, disappeared. I heard the hoomin say later that he had gotten himself locked inside one of those BIG moving monsters with some hoomin's furniture and hauled off to someplace called California. Serves old brown nose right. I hear he's happy though, he stopped being a "complex" cat and had his very own hoomin family. Another cold time came and went. One of the neighborhood girl cats, Little Bit, moved in with the hoomin and had some babies. She started living inside with the hoomin and her daughter Sammy. I trusting the hoomin again, and even went inside the hoomin's apartment to eat sometimes - the food inside was better than what the hoomin put out for us neighborhood cats. Things were good, until another young whippersnapper challenged me and I had to put the little pipsqueak in his place. I had another one of those swollen leg wounds which just won't heal. The hoomin tried to stick me inside the box with bars, but I remembered what happened the last time and took off and stayed away for a couple days. Guess I was getting spoiled by the regular supply of good food, though, and it's hard to get enough to eat when it hurts to walk. Eventually I went back. Since it was so hard to walk with my wound, the hoomin managed to catch me and stick me in the box again. It was a repeat of the first time - into the moving monster, back to the smelly hoomin place, stabbed by the strange hoomin, then back to where it all started. I took off again as soon as the hoomin put down the box and opened the bars, but didn't stay away as long this time. You know, there may just something about that stick the strange hoomin stabs you with, because in no time the wound healed. Part Five - I Become Part of the Family and Get a Name Things went back to normal. More hot times followed by cold times came and went. Life was good. Then the hoomin started saying he might move. He started asking me if I wanted to go some place and become a "barn cat". He said something about having something fixed before I became a barn cat. I had no clue what he was talking about. I tried to tell him I was the King, life was good, nothing needed fixing, and I had no intention of becoming a barn cat - whatever the h*ll a barn cat was. One day when I went to eat he was waiting there with the bar-box. There was no way I was going to go into that thing, especially not this time when I didn't even have a sore leg. I took off and stayed away for a few days. I checked a couple times, but he had stopped putting out food. One day when I went back to check the food bowl, he opened the door and invited me inside to eat. By that time I was pretty hungry, so I went inside. Turns out that was a BIG mistake, because as soon as I started eating he dropped something over me. Before I could escape I was back inside that blasted bar-box and on the way to the monster. This time we ended up at a different smelly place. The hoomin abandoned me and left me there with strangers. I ended up being held captive for a couple days. The second day the hoomins did something to me, I guess they fixed whatever they thought was broken. Finally, on the third day MY hoomin came back and rescued me. I knew he was the one who had taken me to the smelly place, but I forgave him right away this time since he came back and rescued me. I figured I'd better do a little sucking up or he would take me wherever that "barn" was - if this was what was meant by "Fixing" I sure didn't want to find out what he meant by "barn cat". Sammy, one of the girl cats who lives with the hoomin, was actually pretty helpful telling me how to get the hoomin to let me become part of the family. Little Bit, Sammy's mom, didn't like me, and kept telling me how much fun I'd have as a barn cat. She didn't fool me though, and I followed Sammy's advice. It worked, too. When it came time for me to leave and go wherever barn cats go, the hoomin decided to let me stay. I wasn't always too sure when Sammy told me how to get on the hoomin's good side, but decided she's a pretty smart little cat. Lots of things have changed since I joined the family. Guess the first thing was when I got a hoomin name. Before the hoomin called me the "mostly white, black and white tom cat", or just Whitey for short. Once I became family he started calling me Rocky. He said I was named after some movie about a boxer named Rocky Balboa, which I thought was kind of neat. The girls teased me and said the name fit because I was brain damaged like that Balboa fighter was in some later movie, but I didn't really care - it was my name and I like it just fine. I've learned a lot of neat things, too. Once I became part of the family I started making strange sounds that the hoomin calls meows, and I started making a rumbling noise he calls purrs. After watching the other cats I decided to try jumping up on the hoomin's lap for scritches, which is even better than head rubbing when I'm on the ground. And BRUSHING - it feels so GOOD when the hoomin strokes me with the brush-thingy. Once I was sure the hoomin wasn't going to do anything that would hurt, Sammy introduced me to toys. I had pretty much forgotten how to play since it had been so long since I could really relax while I had been living by my wits. Now I can relax and play, and playing is FUN. If life was good before, it's GREAT now. I'm still the King, just semi-retired. For some reason I'm not interested in the girl cats like I used to be. I stay here at the hoomin's place most of the time, instead of roaming the neighborhood. I still get the respect of the other neighborhood cats, but seldom have to face any challenges and fight - in fact I haven't had a real fight since I was fixed. Maybe that's what they meant by getting fixed - if so it was worth it even if I was sort of scared at the time. Epilogue: Sadly, Rocky didn't live out his retirement with me nearly as long as I would have liked. He was never really keen on staying inside for very long, though he did get so that he was home most nights. One night, with bad weather in the forecast, he wasn't home at his usual time. I went looking for him, and found him dragging himself home, unable to use his rear legs. I posted here in RPCA about his condition, and received an outpouring of support, not just morale support and purrs, but financial support which paid the vet bills. Unfortunately, this was his final fight. After showing some initial improvement and regaining feeling and some movement, he passed away. I guess I'm done grieving his loss, only a little tightening of the throat as I've edited his story and added this epilogue. He will always hold a special place in my heart. I watched him change from a true feral into a loving companion. I understand that some ferals never make the transition into a pet, but he certainly did. There is something truly special as you watch a former feral discover the joys of lap time, brushes, toys, etc, and rediscovering how to purr - something long forgotten from his kitten days. -- Steve Touchstone, faithful servant of Sammy, Little Bit and Spot with loving memories of Rocky (RB) [remove Junk for email] Home Page: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/index.html Cat Pix: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/animals.html |
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Steve Touchstone wrote: In another thread Lori (catnipped) said she enjoyed reading a post I made about Rocky, who departed for the bridge not long ago. She said, and I agree, that it's good to hear about our companions who are waiting for us at the Bridge. So I went back and edited "Rocky's Story, which was originally posted last September. I'm inviting those of you with a favorite story about a RB kitty to post it, whether it's a new story or just a repost for those (like me) who are too lazy to wirte something new. ============ (snipped Rocky's tale) This is a good idea, Steve - I am going to take this opportunity to post about our lawcat Tiger, who went missing months ago and is presumed to have joined our Mikey and your Rocky and the other beloved rpca kitties at the RB. Tiger was one of our masters, though we don't know if he really considered us to be his slaves. He came and went on his own schedule, and didn't have very much use for humans. He'd always show up at least once a day to eat except in exceptionally bad weather, but we never knew where he slept or spent most of his time. In cold weather we would fix a box for him, with blankets and a Snuggle Safe heating pad, but he scorned the boxes and this resulted in his being boarded at TED's on the coldest nights of the year. He hated that. We always hoped to make an inside kitty out of him, but he would have none of it. We were eventually able to entice him inside for very short periods, but if we closed the door he went into a blind panic. It took Tiger a while to warm up to us enough to accept petting, but once he could bring himself to let us touch him he found that he looooooved his scritches. If he happened to be in the mood for some affection, he'd lie on my feet, gnaw on my fingers, and drool copiously. If he did *not* happen to need any scritches that day, we couldn't touch him. Tiger also loved the catnip, and would actually venture inside for it. One day not long before he disappeared we'd had a lot of people in the office and had put away the cardboard scratcher so people wouldn't be tripping over it; it usually stayed in front of my desk, loaded up with nip. Tiger came in, looked at the place where the scratcher wasn't, looked at me, and went marching right back out the door. Tiger was a roly-poly little fellow, possibly the most completely round kitty I've ever seen. He was brown and black and beige and gray, with a few stripes but mostly sort of brindled in no particular pattern. He had huge green eyes and enormously long whiskers, a disproportionately short tail and big feet, and little silky black ears. He was kind of a funny looking little guy, but we loved him. :-) We wish we knew what happened to him, and we wish he was here with us. We wish he had allowed us to bring him inside and spoil him silly, but we remind ourselves that he had the life he wanted. He got as much of the society of humans as he cared to have, and he did as he pleased. Still, we will always miss our little sweet Tigerman, and will look for him when we ourselves get to the RB. ------ Krista |
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Sorry to hear about Tiger. His story sounds an awful lot like Rocky's,
who also got frantic when I first started bringing him inside. In time Rocky got so that he'd spend all night inside, but he made it plain wouldn't be happy without his time in the OUT. On 14 Jul 2005 08:42:10 -0700, "Krista" wrote: Tiger was one of our masters, though we don't know if he really considered us to be his slaves. He came and went on his own schedule, and didn't have very much use for humans. He'd always show up at least once a day to eat except in exceptionally bad weather, but we never knew where he slept or spent most of his time. In cold weather we would fix a box for him, with blankets and a Snuggle Safe heating pad, but he scorned the boxes and this resulted in his being boarded at TED's on the coldest nights of the year. He hated that. We always hoped to make an inside kitty out of him, but he would have none of it. We were eventually able to entice him inside for very short periods, but if we closed the door he went into a blind panic. It took Tiger a while to warm up to us enough to accept petting, but once he could bring himself to let us touch him he found that he looooooved his scritches. If he happened to be in the mood for some affection, he'd lie on my feet, gnaw on my fingers, and drool copiously. If he did *not* happen to need any scritches that day, we couldn't touch him. Tiger also loved the catnip, and would actually venture inside for it. One day not long before he disappeared we'd had a lot of people in the office and had put away the cardboard scratcher so people wouldn't be tripping over it; it usually stayed in front of my desk, loaded up with nip. Tiger came in, looked at the place where the scratcher wasn't, looked at me, and went marching right back out the door. Tiger was a roly-poly little fellow, possibly the most completely round kitty I've ever seen. He was brown and black and beige and gray, with a few stripes but mostly sort of brindled in no particular pattern. He had huge green eyes and enormously long whiskers, a disproportionately short tail and big feet, and little silky black ears. He was kind of a funny looking little guy, but we loved him. :-) We wish we knew what happened to him, and we wish he was here with us. We wish he had allowed us to bring him inside and spoil him silly, but we remind ourselves that he had the life he wanted. He got as much of the society of humans as he cared to have, and he did as he pleased. Still, we will always miss our little sweet Tigerman, and will look for him when we ourselves get to the RB. ------ Krista -- Steve Touchstone, faithful servant of Sammy, Little Bit and Spot with loving memories of Rocky (RB) [remove Junk for email] Home Page: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/index.html Cat Pix: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/animals.html |
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