I need to start off by saying that this is inspired by Jamie’s blog post titled “When I Grow Up”. Wow, I even went so far as to steal the title. Here it is.
I read this and just loved it! Jamie, if you’re reading this, you have great writing skills. And I’ve always thought the same thing! About being a mom and wife, that is. But I’d like to post a little about my passion in life. As of now.
I have a deep love for animals, and tend to be more sympathetic towards them than I am towards humans. Anyone else like that? Right now, I have a little feral rescue colony in the heart of downtown Cary. My neighborhood is small, only 7 houses, so it’s hard to step outside without a sighting of one of my little friends. And each one of my cats is a distinct four-legged creature with an individual personality. For example:
Miss Ty, the feisty cat who weighs all of 5 pounds, seems to think she’s a bear. Boo, the sweet one, thinks nothing will ever try to harm him. Roo, smart AND apathetic, knows perfectly well that she doesn’t have to chase balls or purr to get our love and attention. Socks, the big guy with the tiny kitten mew, sincerely believes peaches are trying to take over the world. Bunki, the fat grey Persian who weighs 31 pounds, hates raccoons and loves dogs. Shrubsy, the other little kitty, adores playing “catch me if you can” with me while I’m working in the yard. Spot, the funny skinny cat with a spot on her nose and the loudest meow ever, thinks that you can’t see her if she closes her eyes. And Tabby, my very own kitty for almost ten years… well she knows above all other things, that she is the Queen of Everything.
That’s not all my cats, I’ve got 13, which makes a legal feral colony. I’m currently applying to get certified with the Town of Cary as a colony, so that my kitties can’t be euthanized in a shelter… it’s against the ordinance now. I’m also under going the painstaking process of getting Dustin fixed and vetted, no more sired kittens this season! Boo, Roo, Ty-Ty, Spot, Socks, Shrubsy, and Sandy were all fixed and vetted out of my own tiny pocket (with $25 donations from a few people). Since I shopped around and waited in lines and on lists, I got each kitty fixed for around $70 instead of $400. Here’s the whole story.
In January of 2011, I found a little tabby cat, with all of her ribs showing. That was Shrubsy. So, I fully tamed her, which took about 3 weeks, working every day. Then, on Feb 1st, her sister, Tigress (aka, Miss Ty, Ty-Ty, Little Ty, or Ty) showed up in the same condition. So, I went through the process. Although, by the end of that, I’d noticed with alarm her stomach was starting to swell ever so slightly.
9 weeks of research and care later, Miss Ty showed up on my porch with a very empty stomach, a bloody hind, and tears frozen in her eyes. She couldn’t meow. Weeks passed, with no sign of kittens. We began to worry. Had they frozen? Had she neglected them? Had something gotten to them?
Then, Shrubsy began being courted. Two males followed her wherever she went. I found her the next morning with Tux, a big black tom. And the next morning with Dooku, a sleek cream and brown tom. 3 weeks later, she began showing signs.
And, that very same time, a small sand colored kitten ventured out from under the deck, followed closely by Ty. I began checking every day, and soon found there to be 3 kittens. Sandy, Spot, and Socks. They were feral also. SO, it took about 2 months, but they were finally tamed.
By that time, Shrubsy was about to pop! I could feel 7 kittens heads, which concerned me, since she is the smallest cat, before she was pregnant weighing only 4 pounds.*ill grammar* However, right on time, she had her kittens and showed up the next day, begging for tons of food. 2 weeks later, Muttley, my neighbors doggy was swatted hard in the nose near some thick bushes. I went to inspect and there laid 3 kittens. Enter Boo, Roo, and Moo. Bruce and I went off 2 weeks later for our bi-annual trip to Charlotte. My mom, elated, called me and sent me a video… Shrubsy had moved the kittens under our deck! In late May, our whole family left for a weeks trip to VA. We received a frantic call from our Aunt Nene, saying Moo was dead… found with Bruce’s candy wrapper in his mouth.
Then, Ty became pregnant again. She had two kittens, who we found under the same neighbors deck when they were only 1 week old. Sadie and Smoky. Two little Persian tabbies, sired by none other than Duke Jim-Bob, another male cat. Lil’ Ty moved Smoky over to the other side of the deck, but not Sadie, who laid by herself, unable to walk or even open her eyes for two whole days. Finally, I got Bruce to crawl under the deck and move her to the other side, where Ty accepted her with purrs. We have no idea why she left her to die.
At this point, Ty was going out for nights on the town, so I took action. The kitties were all fixed. Sadie and Smoky were complete indoor cats… but they had to go. I placed ads in Petsmart, offering them for free. In 5 days, someone responded, asking for the little grey guy (Smoky). I thought about it, reluctant to part the close-knit siblings. I called back and refused to give them just one, saying “they’re a package deal”. Miraculously, she told me they’d take both. That Sunday, I sent those two away in a diaper box of my Grammy’s.
Life with the colony was good for a while, beside Boo always getting sick. He’s on vitamins now and hasn’t been sick since. Then, In January of this year, Sandy disappeared on a Thursday… never to be seen. Yet. Her memorial, a mini stone grotto, has a patch of dandelions in it. I want to say she’ll come back. But I can’t. But maybe she will. Maybe.
So that’s my passion now. In the future, before I’m married, I’d love to work in a bridal salon, helping brides-to-be find their dream dress.
Then, I want to get married. I don’t have anyone in mind, because life changes, people change, and I’ll change. But I want to get married, and have children. I want to be a Proverbs 31 wife and mother more than anything, and I want to have a joyful family. Sure, I’m only 12. But this is what I want in life. I want to raise my kids right, strictly, yet still be a playmate to them in younger years, a confidant in their teenage years, and a source of wisdom when they grow up. I’d like to see their blogs, and watch them skip, trot, bounce, walk, and run through life. I want to be there in their worst times, to tell them to work around it, deal with it, forget about it, or learn to be happy through it. I want to be there to tell them to be unique, and to be a free spirit, and to be a blessing. I want to give them the best life possible. And lastly, I want to see them grow up, and get married, and have kids of their own. And as a grandmother, I want to spoil them ROTTEN and wiggle my toes in the mud with them, and go fishing, and swimming with them. I want to be a source of fun and wisdom to all those around me. Then, circle of life. I’ll die. That’s a fact.
That’s what I want. Not to die, having been a wife and a mother and a grandmother and a child of God. I want to end my life having accomplished being the best of each of those. That one that stood out, the one that would be perhaps a role model, perhaps an inspiration to my Christian daughters and grandgirls.
So, day by day, week by week, month by month, season by season, and year by year, I’ll skip my way towards that.
This is my only dream in life. My goal.
Ta-ta (for now),