Skip to content

The Accidental Cat

Posted in Uncategorized

A little over a year ago, my mother-in-law died suddenly. Being the geographically closest family members, all of the death responsibilities fell to us. This included rehoming her demon cat, Pumpkin.

To tell the rest of the story, I have to make it clear that Pumpkin was not a cat I hated due to me just not understanding how cats work or what cats’ emotional needs are. When I say this cat was evil, it is because it attacked out of pure malice. Yes, the cat had a troubled backstory: it was a declawed stray trying to survive on its own in the trailer park where my mother-in-law lived at the time. I could understand why such an animal might deceptively coil itself around a person’s ankles as Pumpkin was wont to do, begging to be petted only to suddenly and violently change its mind the last second. That seems like reasonable, albeit traumatized, cat behavior.

So, why, understanding this, do I still maintain that Pumpkin might have been the actual devil? Out of all the times I can recall being attacked by Pumpkin for absolutely no reason, the one that sticks out most was when she ran from the back bedroom of Mother-In-Law’s trailer specifically to attack me as I was leaving the house. Though I hadn’t interacted with Pumpkin at all until that moment, she zoomed down the hallway, straight to where I stood with the door already opening for me to leave. She bit my Achilles tendon, causing my ankle to swell and my shoe to fill with blood. I shook myself free, but it remains second only to the time I was repeatedly bitten by a dog as my worst animal experience.

Everyone who visited Mother-In-Law had similar stories about this cat, who loved its owner and sought to maul any other living human. My children were terrified of her. Hell, grown people were so terrified of her that some of Mother-In-Law’s friends refused to enter her home. The cat was a menace.

Years go by. My husband’s mother moved out of the trailer park, across the state to a town near Flint. Pumpkin, of course, went with her and continued her life as an indoor/outdoor menace, often slinking out any time the front door opened. When Mother-In-Law’s health declined, she hired an unlicensed home aide through the recommendation of another person in her apartment complex. This woman came to the house and did laundry, bought groceries, cleaned the apartment, anything that my disabled Mother-In-Law could no longer do on her own. We were happy that there was someone close by that Mother-In-Law could count on, but the woman was…odd. She was conversationally flighty, forgetting from one second to the next what she’d just been talking about. She moved constantly, almost manic in her mannerisms. She was unrelentingly cheerful and instantly overfamiliar, revealing far too much about herself and her family dramas (of which there seemed to be an endless source) than strictly necessary upon first meeting someone.

“There’s something not quite right about her,” Mother-In-Law said once, fondly. “But she really is sweet. She’s a terrible driver, though. If we go anywhere, I have to drive. She’s a menace on the road.”

Coming from a woman who had once veered across the center line directly into the path of an oncoming semi because she’d taken a few too many painkillers and was trying to answer her cellphone, this was a terrifying criticism.

When it became clear that Mother-In-Law needed to be closer to us if she was going to maintain any independence, she moved into some apartments not far from my husband’s work. In the week before the move, though, Pumpkin disappeared.

Mother-In-Law was understandably distraught. “I have to leave in three days! I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t get her to come back inside!” But luckily, Pumpkin returned in the nick of time, found in the parking lot by Mother-In-Law’s caretaker.

Pumpkin had some trouble adjusting to the new apartment. Not all that unusual for a cat. She stopped going outside, running away from instead of toward freedom when people came and left. She seemed to have lost some weight while she was missing but never put it back on, despite eating more than she ever had before. But the strangest part of Pumpkin’s behavior was the lack of bloodshed; from the moment Mother-In-Law brought the cat to the new place, it never attacked anyone again.

In the weeks before she died, Mother-In-Law commented on these changes. “I don’t know what happened to her when she was missing, but she’s a completely different cat now.” This wasn’t a negative. It’s always good when people can visit your home without fending off an animal attack. And it was also a great relief, in the wake of Mother-In-Law’s death, to think that we might not have to euthanize the cat for the good of mankind. Old age and one last misadventure had calmed Pumpkin enough that it might actually be possible to rehome it. Somehow, dealing with the demon cat had become the easiest part of the entire ordeal.

I called a friend who has cats because I find that people who really, really like cats either know someone who’s looking for another cat or are looking for a new addition, themselves. After stalking the traumatized Pumpkin around the apartment, I managed to get a few photos of her. I texted them to Cristin, who immediately offered to take her on the basis off her sad story. All I needed to do was take Pumpkin for a check-up and to update her vaccines. I called the vet and made an appointment.

“And how old is the cat?” the receptionist asked.

I tried to do the kind of panicked time math one does when recalling events that don’t directly concern them. Let’s see, she got the cat when her dad was still alive and he died while we were living in Grand Rapids, and it was in the fall so it wouldn’t have been 2006 because we moved away from Grand Rapids in June of 2006. That means she had to get the cat sometime between 2003 and 2005. It was fully-grown when she got it, so even assuming the cat was a year old, that means… “I don’t know. Between thirteen or fifteen years old?”

“But there’s a problem,” I explained. “This cat is so violent. It’s the most dangerous cat I’ve ever seen in my life. We need to probably sedate it.” After all, a tiger can only change so much about its stripes. The cat hadn’t attacked anyone in ages, but nobody had been trying to take it to the vet, either.

The vet’s office gave me some medication I could administer in the cat’s wet food. I did what had to be done and returned a few hours later with my son as backup. I went to the eerily empty apartment armed with thick leather gloves and a cat carrier. I instructed my son to close all the doors and said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t end up in the ER needing stitches. I’d already drugged the cat, but it still put up a fight trying to get it into the carrier. Somehow, we got it to the vet’s office. They only had Pumpkin in the exam room for a short time before they came out and asked to speak to us.

“How old did you say this cat was?” The vet tech asked, frowning at the computer.

“At least thirteen. Possibly fifteen or even older.” I explained how Pumpkin had originally been a stray and how she fit into the convoluted timeline I’d used to figure it all out. “Why?”

“Because there is no way that cat is more than five years old.”

I laughed in disbelief. Then I heard Mother-In-Law’s voice in my memory, clear as a bell: “She’s like a completely different cat.”

The vet came out to explain stuff about tartar and degrees of teeth yellowing and changes to eyes and fur and muscle tone. I just nodded along, stunned. I knew I wasn’t mistaken in my estimate. What I didn’t know was what the fuck was going on. Was Pumpkin immortal? That would have been the second worse news I’d gotten that week.

At home, my husband and I looked through some of Mother-In-Law’s photos, until we found one of Pumpkin. We compared it to the photos I’d taken on my phone.

We were looking at pictures of two clearly different cats.

The resemblance was startling, don’t get me wrong. Their markings weren’t the same, but they were similar enough that it wouldn’t have been apparent without a side-by-side comparison. We were still definitely looking at two different cats. “Pumpkin” wasn’t smaller post-move because she’d lost weight. The cat I took from my Mother-In-Law’s apartment was substantially smaller in length and height, as well. But how did New Pumpkin come into my Mother-In-Law’s care? And what the hell happened to Pumpkin Classic?

“You don’t think your mom would have adopted another cat because Pumpkin died or something?” I asked, even though she had been one of the least likely people I could think of who would do something like that. She wasn’t sentimental enough that the loss of her cat would have sent her into denial. Plus, the new Pumpkin was declawed, something Mother-In-Law opposed and had lamented about Old Pumpkin. She was a practical person and wouldn’t have been so consumed with cat-related grief that she would seek out and mutilate another cat. So, we started tossing around the clues we had.

Pumpkin had been found and returned by Mother-In-Law’s caretaker. The strange, spaced-out woman who seemed to have only one foot planted in reality. Who was a noted reckless driver. Who often let the cat out as she was leaving.

Who brought back a different cat.

Wearing Pumpkin’s collar.

I think you can puzzle these pieces together, here. I regret to say that, outlandish as it sounds, the only explanation that makes sense (and I used that term loosely) is that the caregiver ran over and killed Pumpkin, then somehow (and I don’t even want to know) found a strikingly similar tortoiseshell cat, had it declawed and returned it with Pumpkin’s collar on it.

Today, “Pumpkin” still lives with my cat-loving friend. She’s still cagey and traumatized, but I would imagine that could be due to being suddenly adopted, declawed, moved to two locations in two days, and then having its new owner die only months later. Totally reasonable.

And the original Pumpkin is probably residing happily in hell, where it belongs.

Did you enjoy this post?

Trout Nation content is always free, but you can help keep things going by making a small donation via Ko-fi!

Or, consider becoming a Patreon patron!

46 Comments

  1. Larissa
    Larissa

    This is fantastic.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
  2. Donja
    Donja

    Wow. That’s a lot to take in.

    I feel bad for new Pumpkin, getting declawed like that. I hope their doing better now.

    What a ride.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Cristin
      Cristin

      Hi Donja,

      I posted a super long update below about Pumpkin’s new life. 🙂
      She’s working on being a really happy girl. She’s getting there!

      Take Care,
      Cristin

      February 15, 2019
      |Reply
  3. curtangel
    curtangel

    I had something similar happen with my/my mom’s cat. I was taking care of the cat (which was originally mine but became my mom’s) while my mom was going on a several week cruise. She’s always been an indoor cat but chose to run away from my house and disappeared completely two days in.
    I walked all over the neighborhood and finally located her (I thought) several blocks away. Other people in the area verified this was a “new” cat to the area and didn’t belong to anyone.
    I lay out cat a trap with her favorite food inside and get her easily. Turns out the cat has an injury under her leg. My mom spends a LOT of money getting the cat fixed up at the vet, grumbling at me (rightfully) the whole time for letting the cat out.
    There is some doubt that this cat is the right cat (the vet ages her a couple of years younger), but she doesn’t act spooked by any of this so we figure its probably her.
    MONTHS, I tell you MONTHS later my cat appears at my door, fat and sleek from whatever adventure she had.
    The two cats look EXACTLY THE SAME down to the markings. Even right next to each other you can only tell one from the other by the collar and a small mark on the new cat’s tail. So the other cat became “Sissy” and they both lived with my mom until they died.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Tami Marie Alexander
      Tami Marie Alexander

      I love this story.

      February 14, 2019
      |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      lol At least her doppelganger got a new home and your cat clearly had the time of her life.

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
  4. Rebecca
    Rebecca

    I very rarely use this word, but it seems completely apropos: I am gobsmacked.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
  5. Melodie
    Melodie

    What a story, Mark!

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Jean Doe
      Jean Doe

      It really tore me apart.

      March 18, 2019
      |Reply
  6. Maaike
    Maaike

    This is such a weird coincidence! Earlier today my mom called me to tell me a weird cat story. Her neighbours witnessed some strange woman and her daughter in the street, kidnapping my mother’s cat. The neighbours did talk to them, tried to convince them that it was my mother’s, but they were sure it was their cat that had been missing since mid december. The pair then got into a police car (I don’t know what that’s about) and left. The neighbours then alerted my mother, asking if her cat was missing, and she of course freaked out and tried to call the police. In the end it’s not a very exciting story, the same day they returned him to my mother. Turns out the two cats are so similar, down to the freckles on the nose. The thing that tipped them off was that his meow was different, and the wrong ear was torn. Also my mom said they should’ve known better, as her cat was obviously fatter than theirs. And male.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      That’s so weird and kind of horrible. I’m glad she got her cat back but I also hope that strange pair find their kitty… It makes me wonder if they were actively patrolling neighborhoods looking for her.

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
      • Maaike
        Maaike

        I feel really bad for the mother and daughter. They thought they’d found their missing cat, and must’ve been so relieved. And then that relief was smashed. I can relate, man. Growing up I had a lot of cats never come home. Oscar2, Jerry, JB, Zwervertje, Don Quichot, Koffie, Toulouse.. Only two of those made it past year 1.

        Now that I’ve listed them, I really don’t get why they all disappeared. We lived in a very quiet neighbourhood, very little traffic, had a very big yard, a meadow beyond that, no big predators, some woods behind that, and only after that there was the highway. We always thought they’d gotten run over, but it’s pretty far to wander, and there’s a lot of territory with little competition from other cats, so why would they try to cross that nightmare thing?

        Anyway, I remember dreaming sometimes that my favorite just turned up one day, and being so incredibly happy, so relieved, because I thought he was dead and then he just turned up. But waking up and realising that it was all a dream crushes your heart all over again. I hope they find their Dunya, but I can’t muster any faith :/. I keep my cats inside, because I never want to go through that again. And when I get to live somewhere with a yard, you bet I’m gonna build a nice outside enclosure with a climbing tree and lots of places to lie in the sun and shelter from the weather, and they can go in and out whenever they please :). And they will not dissapear and they will not get runover. Or kidnapped.

        February 17, 2019
        |Reply
  7. Pajama Fish
    Pajama Fish

    I have a terrible, recurring dream where I go outside and see one of my cats has escaped. I bring this identical cat back inside my home and then see my cat is already there! And one is a demon and one is my real cat but I can’t tell them apart and it’s a very horrible dream to have.

    This is like the reverse of that

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      Ugh, that’s similar to a nightmare I’ve had before. Hopefully, it’ll leave you alone soon. 🙁

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
  8. Ashley
    Ashley

    This effing story.

    Its not the exact same as the issue with my gramma, but oh my god it sounds so much like my gramma – the trailer, the tortoise shell cat (they’re so notoriously one person and sketchy), the spaced out caretaker lady… I got a good laugh out of it all, but one of those of bitter solidarity.

    What I mean is, I feel you, Jenny.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
  9. Kelly Osborne
    Kelly Osborne

    We had a big old tomcat named Thor who would come and go. A few years ago he disappeared. Fast forward 8 months amd it’s Christmas Eve. I’m taking the trash out and here comes Thor. He’s taking to me and purring amd all happy to see me. I scooped him up and brought him inside and declared it a Christmas
    Miracle!!! My Husband and son both said “uh, that’s not Thor, we’ve never seen him before. “
    It wasn’t Thor, it was a nearly identical big old
    Tomcat with the same markings. He never left, amd nobody came looking for him so we named him Odin amd kept him.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      Awww… even though it wasn’t Thor, I’m glad Odin stayed! 🙂 (Also, I’m imagining the brief but comical looks of confusion on your fam’s faces.)

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
  10. Tami Marie Alexander
    Tami Marie Alexander

    This is so sad. As someone with seven cats (official Crazy Cat Lady, here), none of which are declawed (one of the fights I dared to have with my ex, who always declawed any cat under her roof). Yes, I’ve gone through several couches and a box spring and an armchair or three. So what? That’s why I get second-hand furniture. At least my cats are intact, other than being fixed which is not mutilation. At any rate, I had once taken in a cat someone gave up and he was violent initially but I think it was due to his circumstances, being abandoned by his family and brought into this place with strangers and other cats. I had a talk with him one day and told him he could have lots of love with this new family if he would just let it happen, and the next thing I know he’s in my arms and whimpering. After that, he became part of the household and had a good life for many years. The cats I have now are all rescues, and while there’s one small female who tends to bully the others (most of the time she’s a princess but that’s when she becomes the Red Queen) but only when she’s feeling moody. My eldest cat (who is now 15 but was a feral kitten) doesn’t like one of my friends because the guy always gets rough with him (despite my repeatedly telling said friend to leave said cat alone), but this cat will not run and hide from the guy — he comes right to the door, gets up on a high perch, and glares down at my friend, hissing and swatting at his hand when he reaches for him. But all these behaviors are easily explained. You never know what happened to an outdoor cat to make it a certain way. Old Pumpkin sounds like she may have belonged to an old woman before your MIL who was good to her, and that’s why she got along with her and no one else. Maybe she attacked people thinking they would try to take her from that home as she was uprooted from the last one. You never know. While it’s horrible to think that Whacko Caretaker was probably responsible for smashing Pumpkin, that she thought enough of your MIL to find a replacement that was close enough in resemblance to not alarm her or cause her distress says a little something for her character. She could be living with the guilt of killing the animal — or she found it dead somewhere, and knew it would break MIL’s heart, so rather than be the bearer of bad news she sent in the clone. Now, me? I’d know in a heartbeat if someone had switched out my cats, and it would have caused me more alarm, demanding to know what happened and why MY cat was missing. Not everyone is that observant or attached to their animals (hell, I know who just shit in the litter boxes two rooms away when the smell hits me, based on the odor). I’m glad New Pumpkin has a furever home with someone who is giving her love. Still…that is one freaky story. (BTW, where near Flint did your MIL live? That’s where I’m from, originally…)

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      Aye. Just buy cheap/used and if need be, chastise them if they don’t use their scratching pose. I’m glad none of your babies are declawed (just another reason to dislike your ex.) And yeah, at least the caretaker successfully didn’t upset the MIL. I hope she got her shit together though… I’d hate to think she could be responsible for someone else’s potential misery, especially given her line of work.

      Still, it’s amazing to realize how inattentive we can be, based on Jenny’s and other stories in the comments section. I’d like to believe I’d notice but I’ve already seen a big fat tuxedo kitty that I’ve nearly mistaken for my big bulky tuxedo boy, so I’d probably only notice after being around the cat for a while. (Noximilien has a lot of quirks… and he’s built like a linebacker so I’d have to pet the other kitty too.)

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
  11. Masha
    Masha

    Everytime this gets mentioned, I can’t get over how the FUCK is declawing legal in the US?!

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      I legit don’t know.

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
    • Rhiannon
      Rhiannon

      It’s illegal in so many countries! It’s legal in Canada still too, though the veterinary association say not to do it, and it’s illegal in a few provinces there now. I live in Germany now though where it’s never been legal as far as I know.

      February 18, 2019
      |Reply
  12. Terra
    Terra

    Please, for the love of all that’s holy, write a story about this. Please? It could be be the book that turns me into a romance reader. 🙂

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
  13. small jar of fireflies
    small jar of fireflies

    The internet, FWIW, tells me that it takes 2-6 weeks for a cat to heal from declawing. So there’s a good chance Pumpkin Sprout was either already known, or snagged after a frantic tour of the pound and any no-kill shelters.

    February 14, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      Oh good, that makes pound/shelter hunt more likely and I’m going to hope she didn’t take Pumpkin from an already forever home.

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
  14. You lost me when you were insensitive about the potential death of an innocent animal.

    February 15, 2019
    |Reply
    • Cristin
      Cristin

      Oh goody a troll! She wasn’t being insensitive. I am the current owner of Pumpkin and can vouch for Jenny as a person. Get fucked, lady.

      February 15, 2019
      |Reply
  15. Cristin
    Cristin

    Pumpkin Update: Miss Pumpkin The One Who Is Not Pumpkin And Knows Only That Name But Who Knows So Sometimes I Call Her Other Stuff To See If She Likes It Better, is doing rather well for such a traumatized little beastie. I cannot believe it’s been a year since her tart little butt moved in. She has sassitude, and is quite vocal. She loathes the other two cats rather soundly, but she’s coming around. See, Sev and Cyrus are not declawed and Pumps is, so I think she’s just fearful. She doesn’t go after them and they chase her but don’t jump her. No bloodshed. (Well, except that time she bit me super fucking hard 2 days after she moved in when I tried to get her collar off, since I don’t collar mine as they stay inside and collars get caught on stuff). But we’ve agreed to let that go on account of her mommy died and trauma. She usually just kicks up a hiss and growl fuss from afar and the boys leave her alone.

    She’s really becoming very affectionate with me and loves to lay under things and
    have you lightly tap her little toe beans, while she fake snatches your hand. She has taken a shine to a few people and runs upstairs from her preferred area of my cozy finished basement so that she can rub against them and mewl for scritches. Some people she stays downstairs, but she doesn’t go after anyone. Never has. She’d much rather flee than fight. And while she’s curious about looking out the screen door, doesn’t appear to have any desire to go outdoors.

    Also, Pumpkin came to me as rather a balm, even though she was coming out of a sad situation. I had an elderly cat, Molly, at the time, who was going to be put to sleep within a week, as her Cancer had progressed and quality of living was not going to pull back up at all. So, bringing Pumpkin in as Molly left us for soft meadows without pain, gave me a new goal to distract me when I really needed one. The universe is odd in its gifts sometimes, but Pumpkin is one. I am rather relieved that she is not an immortal SatanCat as well.

    Odd though her journey has been, she has her forever home now and she may even get used to those other two cats one day. She’s already quite a lot better with them she was and is regularly busted sleeping not too far from them, but maintains her hard-ass exterior in front of mama.

    I’m very glad I could save the little beast and give her a good home.

    February 15, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      I’m glad she’s doing well! At least they can tolerate one another. XD

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
    • Trynn
      Trynn

      Thank you for posting this, and taking in the not demon cat.

      February 18, 2019
      |Reply
      • Cristin
        Cristin

        You’re so welcome! She’s astonishing little marvel, which such personality. Every week, even after a year with me, she comes out of her shell a little bit more. She has currently decided (LOUDLY) that head and face scritches are the very best thing on earth and boy howdy do not stop doing those, because she will grump away if you stop. She’s adorable.

        February 21, 2019
        |Reply
        • I’m so glad Pumpkin 2.0 has you. *HUGE HUGS* If Cyrus will let me in without eating my face, I wanna come say kitty to her. 🙂

          March 3, 2019
          |Reply
          • Cristin
            Cristin

            We’re working on Cyrus the Face Eater, but I completely blame Jen, as I kept his name Cyrus because of the Cyrus in her Blood Ties series. (He happened to already be named that). So now he’s a vampire and we all
            have live with it. Because of Jen. LOLOLOL YES COME SAY KITTY TO PUMPKIN!!! HUGE HUGS BACK I MISS YOOOOOU!

            March 15, 2019
  16. Having read your description of the carer, I’m now worried in case Pumpkin II was actually a much-loved cat of a different family who was stolen by the carer to replace Pumpkin I.

    February 15, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      I hope not. 🙁

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
    • Trynn
      Trynn

      I…. actually am wondering if the caretaker lady, knowing how hard pumpkin would be to rehome, May have ran over her on purpose…. you are a heckuva lot nicer than I am in assuming it was accidental, and it probably says a lot about me that I would immediately assume she’d done something malicious to pumpkin… at the same time, there are some bad people in the world, and I do wonder.

      February 18, 2019
      |Reply
    • Cristin
      Cristin

      We’re thinking not so much, we did check her to see if she was chipped, in case someone was missing her, but she’s not at all, and she’s so far out of the area now. We think it’s way more likely she was from a shelter.

      March 1, 2019
      |Reply
  17. Amy
    Amy

    If the care taker went to the humane society to find a replacement, she might have found a cat who was declawed as a kitten and didn’t pick up a random stray and have it declawed as an adult.

    February 15, 2019
    |Reply
    • Dove
      Dove

      I’m hoping that’s the case! Then the kitty would still be a rescue of sorts and finding a new home would be good. 🙂

      February 16, 2019
      |Reply
  18. Awesome Potatoes
    Awesome Potatoes

    Oh. My. GOD.

    February 16, 2019
    |Reply
  19. Amy Too
    Amy Too

    We had a cat that came to us an adult from a friend and who had lived with us for about 5-6 years before she went missing. She had a tumor growing in her ear and after taking her to the vet, it was determined that it would not be easy or affordable enough to have to removed. A couple of weeks before Kitty disappeared, she began to hide from us and we wouldn’t see her for up to 24 hours. When we would find her, usually hiding in a closet, she would be wet or damp. I don’t know if she cats sweat or if she was peeing on herself. She didn’t smell like pee, though. I’d wash her and dry her off and she’d hang around for a little while before hiding again. I think she was trying to find a place to die so we made an appointment to go back to the vet and see if she needed to be put down. But then she went missing forever. I have heard that sometimes cats will run away to die away from their home, and I think she may have done that. What’s weird is we were currently living in the basement apartment at my in-laws house. In order to get outside, she would’ve had to go up the basement steps, get through the door at the top of the steps that was always kept closed, and then get through a regular door and a screen door to get outside. None of these doors were kept open unless someone was walking through them, so I don’t know how she got out. Webwere worried for awhile that she had found a very good hiding place in the apartment to die and that her body was somewhere in the house, still, but we never found (or smelled) her body.

    I have two, 1-year-old, cats, now, that I got as 8 week old kittens from my brother when his two cats had babies. They are indoor cats who have been outside only 2-3 times in their lifetime, during the spring/summer only. The girl kitten, particularly, did not like the outside and would lie down very close to the door, seemingly afraid to wander into the yard. Right before Christmas this past year, we couldn’t find her anywhere in the house and were very afraid that she had escaped outside. She is a very small and adorable cat, even as an adult, she still looks like s kitten, weighing about 8 pounds, and we were very nervous that she either got hurt by a larger cat or dog or would not survive the bitter, Michigan cold. We don’t live in the best neighborhood, we have a bunch of jerks for neighbors, and we were also nervous that she may have been picked up by a neighbor to be their pet now or used as a “christmas gift” for someone (our neighbors would actually do something like that), or maybe even that she was stolen to be used as a “blooding animal,” which is something I read about and worried about excessively. It’s when people who run dog fights pick up stray cats and dogs and use them as bait to rile up the fighting dogs before they fight each other. We were very sad that she’s was missing just before Christmas as we had a stocking hanging up for her, and had bought gifts for her, and everything. We found her a day later, hiding in the drop ceiling in the basement. It was the weirdest place and we don’t know how she got in there, but she wasn’t stuck, wasn’t making any noise, and didn’t want to come out. We think she may have been sick or upset with the other animals, but once we got her out, she was fine and we all cried happy tears that Christmas would be a happy time and not a time of mourning for our lost kitten.

    February 19, 2019
    |Reply
  20. Cristin
    Cristin

    You’re so welcome! She’s astonishing little marvel, which such personality. Every week, even after a year with me, she comes out of her shell a little bit more. She has currently decided (LOUDLY) that head and face scritches are the very best thing on earth and boy howdy do not stop doing those, because she will grump away if you stop. She’s adorable.

    February 21, 2019
    |Reply
    • Cristin
      Cristin

      Uh ooops… I have not idea how I posted that twice. Sorry all.

      February 21, 2019
      |Reply
  21. Griff
    Griff

    Oh my gosh, I’m crying. You don’t understand, my favorite cat as a kid was a declawed traumatized violent demon-cat named Pumpkin. I loved that cat with all my heart and soul, he was my very best friend, and every other human being on the planet hated and feared him. I literally spent a year of my life sloooooowly getting this cat from “attacks me on sight” to “consents to be in the same room as me” to “will sit on my bed if I sit on the other end” to “allows brief petting” to “curls up on my lap and purrs.” I miss that cat so much.

    All of which is to say, if your MIL’s original cat were still alive, I would have paid money and driven out of state for the chance to take that cat in.

    February 22, 2019
    |Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *