JD sendings us dis info adn link to sum kewty-piez.
Some good news for once. Some Scottish wildcat kittens were recorded recently. This is an incredibly rare breed, maybe a hundred left in the wild – some estimates say less. So these kittens are vitally important.
I obtained a cat from a no-kill shelter maybe a year or two ago. I’ve developed something of a phobia of this, as I form close attachments only to discover the young healthy cat they claimed they’d offered was in fact positively ancient and dying from something terrible.
Well, my precious “four year old and shy” Mozart has now been diagnosed as actually being fifteen with a probably terminal combination of liver and thyroid disorders.
The best I can hope is that the repeatedly abandoned Mozart (he has been returned to the shelter many times) has finally had some comfort in his final years. I can only hope he doesn’t feel like he’s been failed.
It hurts that shelters feel that it’s ok to lie about a cat’s age or health. I would probably have adopted him anyway, but had a totally different approach. This isn’t the first time I’ve been lied to. It hurts. Each time it hurts worse. Few vets can confuse 4 with 15, or shyness with the start of organ failure.
Please can people send beams to Mozart, let him know I tried my best and that I wish I could turn the hurt to joy.
Dis sad nooz comes tu us from JD.
The grate kitteh poet Emo, awfur ob teh toona pome posted sum thyme back, has run off wib teh Nite Watchman.
She had been ill for a while, thyroid, and went peacefully to sleep without assistance just as a thunderstorm finished. Ifinkso that she spotted toona in the rayne and slipped out of her body to go hunt them. She was estimatified at 14, but she may have been older – she’d been a barn cat for over half that and had lost an eye in her adventures as such. That’s why the farm wanted her to be in a regular home.
Her main contributions as a family cat included being a complete and utter ditz, poet laureate and keyboard player.
This year will be my 7th Ovenight Walk. My first was to honor the son of our friend, who had ended his own life shortly after his 27th birthday, the victim of undiagnosed depression. He lives on our collective memory as “The Night Watchman”. Since that time, so many friends have shared their own stories of loss, of struggling with mental illness, and their own attempts. I grieve with them, love them, support them, and am thankful for the ones who are still with us, still fighting, still talking, still living.
My fundraising goal this year is $1250 – any contribution supporting the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is much appreciated .
My mom passed this morning, Nov 15th. I am officially broken.
MamaCat sent mii this message.
My husband passed last night. Suddenly, without warning. My heart is broken into a thousand million pieces. It may never heal, ever. I am about to go into the first night without him. Don’t know how to do this…
KittyRoo sent mii this —
Carol Habig (KCTailkinker) has crossed the bridge. She had been struggling with various health issues lately and is now kinking tails in the Meadow. Cattails haz Pye for now.