I will preface this by saying that I grew up in a very animal friendly family, but it was very large. With so many siblings, there was no privacy, no peace and quiet.
I gained my serenity by being in the woods for hours at a time, sitting on a big coquina rock by a downed tree, watching nature.
It was common for me to bring home stray cats (sometimes, lizards and turtles) and for my sister, Mary, to bring home stray people (Herb, the homeless bum lived with us for almost 2 years).
I was around 10 years old when I went to sit in my favorite place and saw a kitten in a dug up area under the downed tree. He was , what I thought, crying; but, the sound was a high pitched sort of hoarse “Aaaaaaaay”.
Since I considered myself an expert in taking home “wild cats” (there was no term such as “feral” then) that I could love into being tamed, I snatched up this little baby. He was brown and grey, had a stubby tail, and had really hairy pointed ears. He was so pretty, and I knew I had found a treasure.
It took about 5 seconds before he began his fight to be free. I had a light weight jacket on and zipped him inside. Even though I had on a shirt and sweat shirt under, he screeched, clawed, and bit so much that I ran all the way back home with him.
As always, Mom was in the kitchen when I let my baby go and said, “Got me another cat, Mom”. My poor kitty was so scared that he just raced around, growling. So much noise that my mom came from the kitchen and began screaming for my dad, “Oh my God, Edward, she has a bobcat!” She opened the front, back, and sliding glass doors. He raced out and off.
That was the very first time that I told my mother that I hated her. When I stopped crying, she read about bobcats to me in (get this) the Funk and Wagnall’s Dictionary and nursed my scratches, gashes, and bites
She told me that I had brought home a very wild and dangerous cat, and that his mother could have killed me if she had been there. Of course, I didn’t believe that nonsense. After all, I could have loved his mother into niceness too.
To me, he was just a kitty. I watched for him everyday on that rock for a long time, but he was gone.
Dee
Photo: by USDA (US Dept of Agriculture). The cat’s name is “Chips” and he was recovered from a fire. The photo is for illustrative purposes.
My youngest brother, Richard, is adopted.
My mom got a call from the family minister (Lutheran) that a young woman was there with her baby. She didn’t have the means to care for him and wanted a loving home. So, ofcourse, Pastor Claus thought of us.
She had already been to a welfare office, so there was an open case on her situation.
Richard came to us as a foster and, after about 4 months, a lady came to get him. NO WAY! He was OUR baby brother. So, Richard was officially adopted at about 8 months old. From that point on it was, simply, forgotten that he was adopted.
Oh Dee, another lovely story, how kind and trusting you all were and how lucky Herb was the day he met your sister. It’s like something off the TV, I hope you won’t be offended if I say you make me think of that lovely family, The Waltons on TV. Tell us more stories from your childhood pleeeeease 🙂
My sister is still the same way she always was too. She has such a soft spot for needy people.
She met Herb one day, sitting in the grass and munching a little on some. She gave him her lunch that our mom had packed and told him he could come home with her if he would wait for her after school.
That was it. Herb was just accepted into the family. He was quiet and polite, nonintrusive. It was a happy ending for him, because (I’m not sure how this came about) it was discovered that he had a sister that had looked for him for several years. So, after almost 2 years with us, she came from Ohio and got him.
I think they can have just one. What I know is that the litters aren’t large. I think 2 is pretty much the norm, but 4 is possible.
I loved that story of little girl Dee collecting cats and being kind to all animals, so nothing has changed then over the years, I bet you and you sister were the despair of your mum and dad they’d never know what or who you were bringing next. I love the mental picture of it, and imagining that little kitten taking off back to freedom, I hope the little soul made it to somewhere safe and had a long life.
Do they usually only have one kitten Dee?