It's Reigning Cats and Dogs

I think that is about time that I introduce you to our critters—four cats and a dog.

Throughout our marriage most of our animals have been a rescue of one sort or another. We never “buy” a pet from a pet store or breeder. We have had three dogs—Gumby, Molly and now Friskey (and foster cared Mandy for a while) and twelve cats (I think) plus five kittens from one of them--Diablo, Ephraim, Suzy, Mama (who became Marble after her surgery), Fred (Frederick von Freeloader), Scooter, Eb, Calliope, and currently Betsy, Sadie, Gray-C and Roscoe. Our critters have been spayed or neutered (even Mama-Marble, the one that gave us kittens, after the appropriate time). Over the course of time, I will tell each of their stories.

The current dog is an English Springer. He is about seven years old. He has outgrown his name, Friskey. It has become a misnomer; he no longer is frisky, but instead a bit pudgy. Very smart critter. Liver and white.

Betsy is fourteen and is primarily white with circles of a tiger-tabby color. She is very talkative. I swear she wears a watch because every evening when I start preparing our dinner time, she comes out of her hiding place among the pillows in “her” bedroom. She is the only one of our pets for which I can give an exact date of birth. Her birthday in 1995 fell on Steve’s Mom’s birthday…August 4.

Sadie, our really dummmmmmmb cat is a fat tabby and is about nine years old. Betsy and Sadie came to us at the same time from a woman who was moving out of state.

Gray-C, is our tiny little lady. She weighs about seven pounds and is a grayish brindle. We believe that she is a refuge from Hurricane Charley (that is what the “C” after the hyphen means) that blew up the West Coast of Florida and followed the Peace Rive inland in 2004. The vet at that time put her age at about two, which would make her approximately seven. She is our most affectionate and loves to get middle-of-the-night cuddles as she walks over us until someone’s hand comes out to pet her.

And, then there’s Roscoe. There’s sooooooo much to say about him that I would not know where to start. He weighs about sixteen pounds, although he’s not fat…just big, long--and did I mention big. He is almost two. He came to us August 1, 2008 as a kitten at which time we guessed him to be about six months old. He is jet black and ALWAYS in some sort of trouble. Unlike most cats, however, he comes when he is called almost all the time (unless his mind and agenda are elsewhere).