It's official: I am a cat lady

It is official. I am a cat lady. I began my "petdom" as a dog-lover, but several years of picking up dog crap from the yard so the mower wouldn't get bogged down, plus the incessant barking has made me think twice about canines.

So, when I married into a cat-loving family, I decided to give it a try. It started quite innocently with an obviously feral cat who would watch us from the edge of the woods across the street. My husband Jim took food over each day and left it while we watched her eat with great trepidation. A few weeks later, Jim moved the bowl across the street to the edge of our yard, where she moved closer and closer to us from there. We always went about out activities while she ate, letting her know that we were very unconcerned with her presence. After initial contact and a great deal of trust, we were able to pet her, but never really handle her. We took her to the vet for shots and spaying and christened Cat #1 Millie Milligan.

Of course Millie needed a friend, and a family at church had just offered a kitten from a local litter, a buff-colored tabby we named Lilly Belle. Cat #2. Millie was hit by a car while we were at church one Sunday morning and our neighbors, committed animal lovers, moved her body to the grass so our children wouldn't see her when we got home. Those are good neighbors.

The arrival of little Lilly Belle caused a great deal of consternation for Millie. As a matter of fact, "LB" wanted to play nonstop and harassed Millie until, I suspect, she felt no recourse but to throw herself in front of an oncoming car. Millie is the first pet in the Milligan Memorial Pet Cemetery out back.

By this time, LB had grown into a teen-kitty and was becoming quite disagreeable. Luckily, my husband tapped on my passenger window while getting gas at a local station, holding the sweetest little orange tabby you could ever hope to see. After checking with the store's owner, we made the command decision to "rescue" this baby from the certain death that gas station-living would bring. This was our first male kitty, which we named Russell Dean (RD). Cat #3.

While still a kitten, and just when Jim and I decided to let him roam a bit farther from our sight, he was seriously injured and the wonderful Dr. Dixie was forced to remove one of his rear legs.

RD was now nicknamed "Nubbins" and didn't miss a beat. He was fast, loving, and so sweet that you could just eat him up when he nuzzled next to you, looked at your face and turned on the purr. Again, tragedy struck and he simply disappeared one day. We had decided to keep him in the house after his accident, but he was faster than greased lightning and got out while the door was opened. We never saw that sweet thing again. Jim still says that he would give anything to have him back.

Cat #4 was a matriarch whose owner had passed away and no one else wanted. She had a small space at a vet's office in South Huntsville. I saw her on PetFinder.com and went to get her. Widget was 18 years old, blind and deaf, and deserved to live out her final time in comfort and peace.

Using a large wire dog crate, I made Widget a studio apartment in the corner of our living area, complete with bed, food and water, and litter. She stayed there during the night, and ventured through the living room to the front window to lie in the sun during the day. About 6 months after she moved in, she started losing weight and it was time to say goodbye to her. The Milligan Family Pet Hospice had just hosted its one (and still only) resident.

I was ready for a lap kitty; a kitten that would languish in my lap like a in a Normal Rockwell painting. Enter Piccolo, kitten #5. What a joy she was! She took to a crocheted sock like Linus to his blanket. We would be up in the morning never knowing where that pink and white sock would be. For several months, it was bigger than she was and we laughed at this little fuzzy girl carrying a bigger fuzzy item all over the house with her. Like RD, Piccolo simply disappeared one day. We have no idea what happened or exactly when it happened.

Cat #6 was a stray from the high school during the performing of “How to Succeed in Business” by AMT. We named her Rosemary after the lead character in the play. A few months later, Rosemary

gave birth to a little gray kitten. I knew there were more in there, but they were not coming. Evidently, Rosemary had her baby, and she was done. So, later than night I hauled Rosemary and little kitten to the vet for a caesarean. Who on earth has ever adopted a stray cat that can’t give birth? The next day, Rosemary and three kittens came home: cats #7, 8, and 9.

And yes, we kept them all. We named the two girls Bugs (not really sure why…) and Tacobella (I went through a phase of not wanting to cook dinner). The boy is Rocky. Rosemary weaned them and she was out of here. We haven’t seen her since. Of course, I harbor no ill will toward her. She came to us a brazen hussy, and I supposed she just couldn’t be tied down. However, we made sure she won’t be having anymore little mouths to feed.

With that, we were done. Or so I thought. Jim called me from Walmart a few months ago and told me that I needed to bring the kennel so we could rescue a cat that had been living there. The garden center people were very glad to see him leave because he was loud and was leaving fur all over the outdoor cushions. His name is General Sterling Price, #10, and he is probably the most lovable of the bunch.

As I said: it’s official. We have six cats. All are spayed and neutered, treated for fleas and ticks monthly and have all of their shots. They are loved and petted and talked to. They are fed twice a day, every day and live better than some people. My latest trick is trying to talk Westside into a punch-card for fixing these rascals. Kind of a “buy 10 spays/neuters, get one free”. After all, I’m on my free one next!