Who could not fall in love sight-unseen, after reading Sue's loving description of Audrey. The photo clenched it for me.
This is Audrey, whom I found through a local rescue program when searching for a companion for my then-only cat. When I met her, she was underweight, anemic from flea bites and broken out in sores on her chin, and she had very thin fur from either poor health or an over-the-counter flea treatment that didn't agree with her. And on top of all that, she smelled horrible. However, there was something about this friendly little 2-year-old girl that made me take her home.
Poor Audrey had a tough adjustment phase; at the request of my vet, I quarantined her from my calico, Abby, for two weeks. Audrey had gastrointestinal difficulty from an abrupt switch to premium cat food and had to take medication to get past it. Unfortunately, I hadn't heard of Pill Pockets back then and had no experience in pilling cats, so every morning and evening was a wrestling match. But, Audrey never bit or scratched, just kept finding new ways to spit out and/or destroy the pill.
At the end of Audrey's quarantine, again at the request of my vet, I gave her a bath. Audrey was not happy; she tried to get away all through the bath, then, after it was over, she curled up in fetal position and stayed there. I wrapped her in my best Egyptian cotton towel and cuddled her for two hours, until she was dry.
Finally, Audrey met her new sister. After the initial hissfest died down, Abby discovered Audrey had no idea how to play, so she showed her what toys and kitty wrestling were all about.
Audrey earned the nickname "Ninja Kitty" when she sauntered casually past a favorite toy, then suddenly dropped to the floor, executed a perfect barrel roll and killed that toy dead with a few well-placed bunny kicks.
Audrey adores organic catnip, all things fleece, her twice-daily jog around the house and our daily "mommy's home" ritual of scoop, snuggle and special back rub/neck scritchy combination. She satisfies her mothering instinct by grooming sessions with our 1-year-old former feral, Sophie, and relaxes by watching British comedy on TV. I don't know why, maybe she likes the accents. She also likes to sing along when I play my clarinet, but she only sings on the rests - and this little princess has the deep, throaty whiskey voice of a lounge singer who's smoked unfiltered longs for 20 years.
More than two years later, Audrey has gone from the scrawny, scruffy orphan I first met to a happy, healthy, 8-lb furry lap cat. She's a mommy's girl and seems to love it.
This is Audrey, whom I found through a local rescue program when searching for a companion for my then-only cat. When I met her, she was underweight, anemic from flea bites and broken out in sores on her chin, and she had very thin fur from either poor health or an over-the-counter flea treatment that didn't agree with her. And on top of all that, she smelled horrible. However, there was something about this friendly little 2-year-old girl that made me take her home.
Poor Audrey had a tough adjustment phase; at the request of my vet, I quarantined her from my calico, Abby, for two weeks. Audrey had gastrointestinal difficulty from an abrupt switch to premium cat food and had to take medication to get past it. Unfortunately, I hadn't heard of Pill Pockets back then and had no experience in pilling cats, so every morning and evening was a wrestling match. But, Audrey never bit or scratched, just kept finding new ways to spit out and/or destroy the pill.
At the end of Audrey's quarantine, again at the request of my vet, I gave her a bath. Audrey was not happy; she tried to get away all through the bath, then, after it was over, she curled up in fetal position and stayed there. I wrapped her in my best Egyptian cotton towel and cuddled her for two hours, until she was dry.
Finally, Audrey met her new sister. After the initial hissfest died down, Abby discovered Audrey had no idea how to play, so she showed her what toys and kitty wrestling were all about.
Audrey earned the nickname "Ninja Kitty" when she sauntered casually past a favorite toy, then suddenly dropped to the floor, executed a perfect barrel roll and killed that toy dead with a few well-placed bunny kicks.
Audrey adores organic catnip, all things fleece, her twice-daily jog around the house and our daily "mommy's home" ritual of scoop, snuggle and special back rub/neck scritchy combination. She satisfies her mothering instinct by grooming sessions with our 1-year-old former feral, Sophie, and relaxes by watching British comedy on TV. I don't know why, maybe she likes the accents. She also likes to sing along when I play my clarinet, but she only sings on the rests - and this little princess has the deep, throaty whiskey voice of a lounge singer who's smoked unfiltered longs for 20 years.
More than two years later, Audrey has gone from the scrawny, scruffy orphan I first met to a happy, healthy, 8-lb furry lap cat. She's a mommy's girl and seems to love it.
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