Mother Catresa's Chronicle

Mama C's 2011 Census

2012-01-03T15:32:00.000-08:00

OK, I've been soooo bad about keeping up with the blog that I will just skip my usual opening radio blurb. You know that you're tuned into KITT-FM, and that I'm Mother Catresa, and that it's all kittens, all the -- well, at least some of the time.

Mama C apologizes for her absence again. I have been so busy with the freelancing ventures I have taken on outside of my job - and truthfully, I hope to turn the chronicle into a paid, published venture, so maybe I'm saving myself for that. But no matter. It's been way too long, and I am sorry about that!

I now proceed with my New Year's tradition of rounding up the head count from Mother Catresa's sanctuary from the previous year. Fans, I now present to you the Class of 2011 from the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh!

= First, there was the litter of chocolate kittens in the spring: Meltaway, Truffle, Bon-Bon and Lady Godiva. All are happily adopted.
= Then, along came the "Jack and the Beanstalk" kittens, with Jack, and Fee, Fi, Fo and Fum. All happily adopted.
= Then came my pair of adults, Jack and Jill. The gray tabbies patiently alternated between my guest bedroom, where I slept with them twice a week, and a Petsmart cage for several months. A wonderful young couple adopted both cats together just before Christmas, and I was so happy. But, when Jack's and Jill's new parents left my house with the cats, I went upstairs to their room to start cleaning. With "Jingle Bell Rock" caroling in the background, I started to tear up, turned around and went back downstairs. God, I miss those kids, but am happy for them. They deserve to be full household pets, and not be confined to just one room.
= Later in the summer, I took in a litter of six kittens, with an even male/female split. The boys were the Three Stooges - Larry, Moe and Curly - and the girls were a cutesy, girlie Buffy, Muffy and Trixie. Moe and Trixie -- both brown tabbies, with a white chest on Trixie -- are eagerly awaiting their forever homes. Could you be the one?

So, folks, Mama C's grand total of the year is 17 lives saved. May there be 18 or more in 2012!

As always, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

I Tawt I Taw a Puddy-Tat!

2011-09-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

We finally return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Meow there, folks!

Again, it's been way too long since I've posted on my blog. I've been so busy with freelance writing assignments and caring for kitties that I've slacked on this. But Mama C is baaaaaack, with a quick update.

Indeed, Mama C has tawn many puddy-tats, and is about to tee many more tonight! I just wrote an item about a "Looney Toons" exhibit at Pittsburgh's ToonSeum, so Tweety Bird-style talk is tickling my funny bone. Remember how the yellow, feathered cartoon character used to say "I Tawt I Taw a Puddy Tat!" whenever he encountered, and always outsmarted, Sylvester the Cat? Hilarious.

OK, back to my update. For the past few weeks, I fostered a duo of teenage kittens (about 7 months old) named Jack and Jill. They are so cute and sweet! Although, Mama C is the one who went up the hill to fetch them a pail of water. They are both gray tabbies - Jill with a white stripe on her nose - and they are now back at the Northway Mall PetsMart. I hope and pray that they get a home together. I spent several nights sleeping with my furry residents in my guest bedroom. My own cats were a bit miffed by my infidelity, but they'll get over it.

Now, I received an e-mail this week from the local Humane Society, about how they are completely full and overrun with cats, because of owner surrenders. It is absolutely heartbreaking. When shelters are full and keep getting more animals, they sometimes have no choice but to euthanize. I can't stand it, and will do whatever I can to help. I offered both my guest bedroom for an adult cat, and my usual foster room for a litter of kittens, if need be. Sure enough, tonight, I am picking up an adult kitty, and a litter of six, 10-week-old tabby kittens.

Mama C will have a completely full house - I'll be alternating between two rooms to socialize my fosters - and it's a bit overwhelming. But I am in the business of saving lives, and that is not always convenient. I'd rather be spread thin than see a life lost. Pittsburgh friends, seriously, if you want to "volunteer" at my house and spend some time with my fosters, you are welcome to - and I'll cook you dinner and heat up a cup of apple cider for you!

Until next time, I "we-main," Tweety-style,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

"Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!"

2011-07-25T14:29:00.000-07:00

We finally return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Good Golly, Miss Molly - was my last blog entry really in April? Shame, shame, shame! There's no excuse - no, not one!

Blame my unintentional hiatus on all the writing I do at my job, along with the extra freelance writing I've been doing outside of the newspaper. In fact, my story on Frankie the Trolley Cat - an extraordinary rescued feline that charms visitors at the Pennsylvania Trolley Museum - is published in the August issue of Cat Fancy magazine! Subscribers have this issue, but I'm not sure if it's replaced the July issue on newsstands yet. Please go get a copy - and the next time I see you, I will autograph it for you, like I did at the museum for "Frank the Trolley Cat Day" last weekend. Mother Catresa hopes to become a regular contributor to Cat Fancy, which is the purr-fect market for her!

So then - what's with the title of this blog entry? Isn't "Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!" the slogan that giant used to chant when he was hunting Englishman Jack in the fairy tale "Jack & the Beanstalk?" Yes. And, silly me, I thought it would be a hilarious name theme for a litter of kittens that has been staying with me for about six weeks.

These kiddos came from a group of 11 in a Pittsburgh resident's yard. Two feral mother cats had kittens on the porch, and the woman called us (Foster Cat) for help. We split up the litters among two of us fosters, though we don't know exactly which ones come from each litter. I probably have a mix of siblings and cousins.

After I captured five of these babies - some skittish and hissy-spitty - and brought them home, I thought the head count seemed perfect for a wacky litter name I'd had in mind for a long time. I unpacked the 6-week-old kittens from the carrier, and chuckled as I entertained the cartoonish image in my mind of a bellowing voice, a green giant whose footsteps shake the earth, and a colossal green vine. Then, I named the babies, one by one:

= Jack, a male orange tabby and white shorthair.
= Fee, a male orange tabby longhair. (Incidentally, he farted a real stinker by my face last night. But that's neither here nor there.)
= Fi, a female black shorthair.
= Fo, a female tortoiseshell medium-hair.
= Fum, a female gray tabby shorthair.

Now, Jack and Fo have been just the sweetest little dollbabies from the very beginning, despite the somewhat feral family background. Fum was a bit on the fence. Fee, leaning toward the side where I am not. And Fi, bless her grumpy heart, didn't seem to want to get anywhere near the fence.

Well, to sum up the summer with the Jack & the Beanstalk kittens: Jack and Fo have been my cuddle buddies every day, and are just little darlings. Fum started to come around first, followed by Fee a few weeks ago. Fi made some tiny steps, but had a ways to go before she would be an adoptable pet. I would scruff her and force her to let me hold her for a brief time every day, even though she had a teenagerish "Ick!" look on her face as I stroked her.

I kept hoping and praying that she would pull a G.G.: be antisocial, like my Gormly Girl, and then make a dramatic turnaround one day. Fi is, after all, a black female kitten, just like my G.G. I figured that it wouldn't happen until her littermates were put up for adoption, and she was all alone in the room, with only me as a playmate. That's how it happened with Gormly Girl.

But, on Saturday, I took Jack and Fum up to a Petsmart cage. And yesterday, even though Fee and Fo are still there, it happened: Little Miss Fi came up to me, cuddled up to my side to be petted, and p-p-p-purred! I gaped in delighted disbelief. It's such a triumphant feeling when that first purr happens; it's like a baby uttering "mama" or "dada" for the first time. Once they've broken the purr barrier, there's no going back. The kittens are now official, loving, adoptable pets!

So, tomorrow night, Fee and Fo will go to another open cage at a Petsmart. Only two per cage are doable. I'll keep Fi with me for a few more days, and give her more remedial "How to be a rock star" lessons in social graces, until another cage opens.

May the spirit of G.G. continue to transform Fi into a fiercely affectionate, outgoing kitty that will make someone a lovely pet.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

"911, What Is Your Emergency?"

2011-04-06T15:10:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I knew that the 911 operator would send help for me. She just had to. Remember all those old shows that showed firefighters rescuing cats out of trees?

And besides, I didn't know what the heck else to do but call.

"Allegheny County 911, what is your emergency?" the female dispatcher's voice said as I nervously paced along my front lawn, after checking out the second-floor window to the kittens' room. It was just after midnight on Sunday.

"Can you hear me?" I said.

"Yes, maam," she replied. "What is your emergency?"

"This is a weird call," I warned her. I then explained the peculiar - but, to me, scary - nature of my emergency.

"I have a litter of kittens trapped in an upstairs bedroom," I said. "They knocked down this baby gate inside their room, and the gate wedged itself against the door. It's stuck, and I can't get in. And the only other way in to this room is through my upstairs window. And I don't have a ladder!"

Now, I know that 911 operators surely have had far more bizarre calls than this one. Still, I could hear her confusion during a pregnant pause.

"Let me make sure I understand," the operator continued. "You said kittens are trapped in a room because of a baby gate?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "They have a baby gate just behind the door to keep them from running out of the room, and they knocked it over, so it's stuck between the door and the bookcase. And I have no way to get to them. They're really small!"

Just minutes before, I was heading upstairs with the kittens' goodnight dinner of canned chicken and ocean whitefish food when I made the scary discovery. The door would not budge. So that was the thud I had heard while watching TV!

Trying not to panic, I started kicking at the door, hoping to dislodge the gate - but scared of hurting the kittens, whom I could see eyeing me curiously through the little crack I managed to create. But that's as far as the gate would go. I could not reach my arm inside. And after kicking several times, I could hear the wood start to splinter on the bottom left corner, by the hinge.

"Help me, Jesus!" I prayed. "Help me break into the room without causing severe damage to my house."

The only other option, I knew, was somehow climbing up a steep ladder, squeezing myself through the long, skinny, upstairs window, and jumping down, hoping not to break anything or land on a kitten. The phrase "between a rock and a hard place" came to mind.

I felt relieved when the operator responded.

"Alright, maam," she said. "They said they'll come over to help."

I was expecting to see a fire truck, but instead, a police car pulled up to the curb, and a nice young officer stepped out.

"Thank you so much for coming, officer!" I said. He took a look at my outside window, and then asked to look at the inside, because he didn't want to call the fire department unless necessary.

I showed Officer Friendly inside and up the stairs. He started doing the same thing I was - kicking at the door - but he's a strong guy, and I worked on pushing in the upper portion, while he kicked the bottom. I told him, while he worked, that this must be one of the weirdest calls he's had in awhile.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," he said. "We get a lot of calls like this."

"This" probably meant calls about animals, or people being trapped. I'll bet this particular circumstance was unique.

After a couple of minutes, he barely snaked his hand through the door, and pulled up the gate.

"Hallelujiah!" I exclaimed, just thrilled to see the kittens' sweet faces, safe and sound. And to see this incident end without having to file a homeowner's insurance claim (one that would probably be denied, anyway).

I thanked the officer profusely and gave him a hug.

"You're the best," I said.

Then, I went upstairs to play and cuddle with my four new babies, whom I named with a chocolate motif (read my last posting for more about that.) I have Truffle and Bon-Bon (black and white males), Meltaway (orange and black male) and Lady Godiva (orange female.)

And from now on, their gate - meant to catch them when they burst out of the open door and run under my legs - will remain outside the room, to create a holding pen for kitten overflow.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Like a Box of Chocolates

2011-03-28T09:44:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Forrest Gump, in his childlike wisdom, gave us many good lines in that wonderful 1994 movie. And in a conversation yesterday with a friend, I used one of Gump's witticisms to talk about fostering.

"Kittens are like a box of chocolates," I told my friend, Lane. "You never know what you're going to get."

Indeed. And tonight, I will be picking up my first "box of chocolates" of the season from the Humane Society, and I am excited with the wonder and mystery of what the box will contain. Will I get orphans, or kittens with a mom? How many babies will there be? And the most intriguing question is, what will they look like? Will I get orange or brown tabbies? Black kittens? White kittens? Tuxedos? Grays? Or something else?

Will the "box of chocolates" all be, say, peanut butter meltaway tabbies, or will it be one of those variety packs with some peanut butter, some caramel, some nutty, some raspberry creme, and others?

I'll find out soon enough tonight, and I can't wait. Mama C will report back very soon!

Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Um, Sorry ... Do We Know You?

2011-03-16T17:42:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I am thrilled to report that the two "handsome, single studs," as reported in my last post, have found their forever home - TOGETHER! Yes, the Good Lord has answered my prayer in exactly the way I had hoped: He found a lovely home for both Kitty and Simba, who are now enjoying their spacious house in a southern Pittsburgh suburb with a nice family, after spending nearly a year in my guest bedroom.

And though I celebrate the cats' good fortune and happy future, I must admit that, selfishly, I felt a bit swatted in the face when I visited Kitty and Simba in their new home last week. See, it seems as if Mother Catresa already has been forgotten.

I went to the new owner's home to drop off some paperwork - which I could have easily mailed, but I wanted to see the kitties one more time. The kind, hospitable owners showed me inside - and, just like he often did at my house, Kitty was hiding under the bed. Simba, on the other paw, was crouching under the dining room table, on top of a chair.

"Simba, old buddy!" I exclaimed, as I stretched out my hand toward him, and said "Come here, come here!"

Simba jumped down, looked up at me with seeming recognition, let out a little squeak, and lifted his nose, so I could pet it. But just as my hand touched his face, he bolted and ran down the hallway, making a beeline for the underbed world where his buddy awaited.

"Well, you ungrateful ratfink," I grumbled.

I followed Simba into the room, got down on my knees, lifted the bedskirt and peeked underneath - hoping, in vain, to summon out Kitty and Simba. But no such luck. Just like they did at my house when they were frightened, they just stared at me, and refused to budge.

I jokingly said, "Oh gee, so this is the thanks I get? Foster mommy comes to see them again, and they don't even want to interact with me? Niiice."

When I realized the cats weren't coming out, it dawned on me: perhaps I am like a nurse in the ICU. I may have saved and nurtured my patients, and they are grateful: however, I remind them of a traumatic time in their lives. After all, these boys met Mother Catresa when their old mama gave them up, and they lost the only home they knew. I'm sure they love me, in a way. But, let's face it: I am a reminder of hard times, and who wants to revisit that?

Chances are, Simba saw me - and Kitty, heard me - and they thought that the big, bad lady was back with the cat carrier, waiting to snatch them and take them back to the Petsmart cage. Again. That's what the cats probably associate me with - and really, who can blame them?

Well, Mother Catresa understands. This is just part of the work I do: letting go. Just like I remember all of my dozens of foster kittens over the years; but, if I saw them now, they probably would have no idea who I was. (Their adult selves, incidentally, would look quite different than the kittens I knew, too).

And that's OK. I can live with that. Because even if they don't remember me, all of my furry alumni will forever dwell in my memory. And my role as a foster, really, is to prepare the kitties to be someone else's pet. Just like a parent's role is to prepare a child for adulthood. It ain't easy, but someone has to do it, right?

I kept that in mind as I gave the family a warm "thank you" and wished them well, walked out to my car, and drove off - watching the road through my misty eyes.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Two Handsome, Single Studs Are Looking for Love!

2011-02-08T14:39:00.001-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

In lieu of telling stories about my cats, this time, I'll let them speak for themselves.

You are about to hear from two declawed kitties: adult males Kitty (white) and Simba (orange tabby), middle-aged foster cats who have been hanging out in my guest bedroom for several months now. They really need a home - and perhaps a Mother Catresa fan, or friend of one, is that special someone.

From Kitty and Simba:

Meow! Thanks for listening to our plea. We truly have a sob story here: our elderly owner, with physical and mental struggles, could not care for us anymore, and had to give us up. We might have been euthanized at a kill shelter, but luckily, our mama is a friend of someone who knows Mother Catresa, and we ended up at her sanctuary.

Mama C is one cool cat, for sure, and we have it pretty good with her: we have a nice, spacious room all to ourselves, and that sure beats the streets or death. But it's not the same thing as having a home and owner to call our own, and a house where we have the full run, rather than being isolated in a separate room. Thank God we have each other up here, to keep us company!

We really would like to stay together, as we are lifelong companions. If we must be split up to get homes, we can live with that, but we hope we won't have to be separated. We are both declawed and shy, but very sweet and affectionate once we warm up to you.

Will you please give us the loving home we want so badly, or help us find someone who will? We promise that good karma will come to you for helping needy felines. Trust us: with nine lives, we have good connections!

Love,

Kitty and Simba

Pomp and (belated) circumstance

2011-01-17T16:23:00.000-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Much to some people's chagrin, I have a weakness for arriving, or doing things, fashionably late -- starting with my very entry into this world. I was supposed to be born right on Christmas, or within a day or two, in 1972. (That would be a bummer). Alas, my parents had to wait until next year for their tax deduction: I arrived two and a half weeks late, on Jan. 10.

Yes, last Monday, I turned 38 - and, I already was tardy with Mother Catresa's annual graduation narrative of kitty graduates, which I usually write on or just before New Year's Eve. So, anticlimactic though it may be, here it goes.

Mother Catresa, chancellor of the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh, is pleased to award her Scratchelor of Science degree to five felines in the Class of 2010 - along with one honorary degree for a dear classmate that was lost. My graduates: mother cat Tiger (a cabbie), and three babies: Sonny (orange tabby), Sherman (black) and Buf-Puf (buff tabby and white.) All four have found great homes. My honorary student - Chaz Bono, the male tortie kitten that I loved and lost to FIP - gets a posthumous award for fighting so very hard, and bringing so much joy into my life in the short few months he had with me. For more details about Chaz, please read a few posts down for that memorial.

Mother Catresa's graduating class this year is smaller in quantity than in previous years, when she usually went through several litters in one season. However, working now with a rescue group instead of a shelter, adoptions might be slower - and, in a bad economy, everyone's adoptions probably were slower last year. But, the quality of a litter, and a life saved, does not degrade from a lack of quantity.

I look forward to saving more lives in 2011. I'm dreaming of a furry year, and can't wait until the Kitten Fairy comes in the spring!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Stinker and Bum-Bum

2010-11-16T10:24:00.001-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Now, that sounded familiar!

"Knock it off, stinker," the Petsmart employee warned the playful orange tabby cat named Nick, who kept popping his paws through his cage bars and slapping her on the back.

I chuckled. Her, too? "Stinker" is such a common word in my household. And I thought it was funny to hear someone else say that, as I prepared to put one of my foster kitties, Simba, in his adoption cage.

And then came the real kicker. To another cat - though I'm not sure which one - she said something like, "Alright, Bum-Bum."

Bum-Bum? Seriously? That seemed like such random baby babble that I had made up for my cats. It's goofy, for sure, and absurd. And I thought it was hilarious that, of all things, someone else called cats with that nickname!

Oh, the nicknames - the literal "pet names," I suppose - that we come up with for our pets. Aren't they adorable and funny? Here are just a few of mine: Stinker, Bum-Bum, Kitty Po-Po, Goofball, Joker, and Meow-Meow. What are yours? Mother Catresa would love to hear them.

Now, I must say, that if someone were eavesdropping outside my house, they would be convinced that my cats' names are "Hey," "No," "Down," and "Uh-Uh!"

Until next time, I remain, as my own nickname,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Acht! Das Katzpiss!

2010-10-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Sssssssssss ...

What's that for, you ask? I'll get to that in a minute. First, here's the background. The lone remaining kitten from this year's litter -- Buf-Puf, a buff and white tabby who was on medical hold for a long time because of a skin condition -- has been cooling his paws at my house for a week. He is taking a break from the PetsMart cage, and getting another injection for his skin.

Since Buf-Puf was going batty up in the foster kitten room all by his lonesome, I decided to let him out to mingle with my resident cats. Surprisingly, my cats - even Dharma, the queen bee - aren't in the least bit phased by Buf-Puf. They're either curious and friendly - or, in Dharma's case, like, "Okay, whatever!" So, Buf-Puf has been enjoying the run of the house for a good portion of the day.

And that brings me back to this: ssssssssssssssssssssss.

Last week, I was sitting on my couch reading the paper, when suddenly, I heard this peculiar noise coming from behind me: ssssssssssss.

Hmm, I thought briefly. Hey, you know what that sounds like?

And then, startled and panicked, I got it. Oh, yes, I know EXACTLY what that sounds like - and given that nothing is behind me but a wall and a big box, there's only one dreadful thing that noise could be!

Sure enough, I turned around and saw Buf-Puf, in all his squatting glory, baptizing ... my big cardboard box full of packaged Nutrisystem meals. What the .... Ick! Naughty! No, no, boy!

I won't even try to decipher the message my little foster kitten was trying to send me with this lovely communication, and why Buf-Puf found packaged meals to be an appealing litter box is beyond me. But luckily, I still have plenty of Nutrisystem left. And, as always, Mother Catresa loves any opportunity for a good laugh. C'mon, what fun would pets be if you didn't have a sense of humor about mishaps like this?

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Chaz Bono, March 2010-Aug. 10, 2010

2010-09-06T15:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Mother Catresa readers,

This still just doesn't seem real, even after nearly a month.

My beloved Chaz Bono kitten, at barely five months old, contracted the deadly FIP virus, and had to be euthanized on Aug. 10. It was a shocking and devastating turn of events for a kitten who was so full of life, spunk, enthusiasm and love. As FIP (Feline Infectious Peritonitis) goes, the symptoms came on suddenly and fiercely, like a hurricane, and stole Chaz's life within days.

And it still doesn't seem real.

My baby - an ultra-rare and special MALE tortoiseshell, a 1-in-3,000 anomaly - was so unique, and not just because of his XXY genes (see a few posts down for more about Chaz Bono, the transgendered kitten). His coat was a beautiful swirl of black and orange, and his purr-sonality was a precious swirl of friendliness, congeniality, love and affection. That baby just bubbled with joy and spirit, and showered me with x's and o's. Whenever I would walk into my guest bedroom, where he stayed with a littermate, Chaz would jump up and run like a puppy dog, and blast his purr like a motorboat. I would scoop him up in my arms, fall back on the bed, and go "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!", kissing him and giggling while I lay him on my chest, with his back down. I would tickle his belly, saying "Bunny kicks, bunny kicks, Chaz-ee-poo!", while he thumped me with his furry hind legs.

And it just doesn't seem real that my Chaz-ee-poo is gone.

He had been up at a pet store, sharing a cage with his black brother, Sherman, for a few weeks. They still had not been adopted, as adoptions had been slow, and I was picking them up for a cage break at my house, and a medical break for Chaz. He was showing symptoms of a URI (upper respiratory infection), along with listlessness and a loss of appetite that came on quickly. Then, his sweet little belly - the one I had tickled so many times - rapidly bloated, as if he had swallowed one of those miniature basketballs. When I picked Chaz up, I immediately took him to the vet we use for an x-ray and exam.

I knew that the symptoms could indicate FIP, but they could also signify far less serious diseases, so I just couldn't think the worst. No, it can't be FIP. Not my Chaz.

But, alas, FIP was the heartbreaking diagnosis: the belly distention came from a yellow liquid that filled his torso. And that could only mean one thing: euthanasia. My baby, just barely beginning his life, had reached the end of his way-too-short time on earth.

And it just didn't seem real. This couldn't be happening.

As traumatizing as it would be, I very much wanted to be there for the euthanasia, to help escort Chaz into the next life, in Heaven. I knew I cannot yet go where he was going, but I wanted to be the last person he saw - and my hands, the last loving touch he felt - as he breathed his last on earth. But - due to both a power failure at the veterinarian's office, and a three-way miscommunication - I missed out on being there. I felt furious and crushed that I didn't get to say goodbye and share Chaz's final moments with him. Yet, now, I see the peculiar incident as a likely act of God, who knew that I would be so distraught that I would be out of work for several days, instead of one, and that I would be just a mess had I been there. (Though, if given the choice, I still would have opted for it.)

That's why it just doesn't seem real: I didn't see my sweet kitten pass away, so it's difficult to accept in my heart that it really happened. I feel like I can't quite feel the grief fully, because it doesn't seem like Chaz died. It feels, often, like he just got adopted.

And maybe that's how I should view this: that Chaz merely got adopted. Because in a way, I believe, he did: my dearly loved Chaz got adopted by God, and sat on Jesus' lap on that heartbreaking day I lost him.

I want to believe that my baby is now frolicking in an emerald-green, sunny meadow, with thousands of other kittens that went before him, beneath the fabled Rainbow Bridge. Chaz is glowing with health and free of FIP - and probably of litterboxes, too. He is blissed out with unlimited catnip fields, toy mice, and clean drinking water from a glistening, pure waterfall. He's found other people to tickle his belly, now back to its normal size.

Yes, my dear Chaz, you were adopted by God. I have to believe that. It's the only way I can survive this heartache: knowing that, though that awful disease claimed your life way too soon and robbed you of the life you deserved down here, you are now happy in another dimension. Waiting for me and your littermates to arrive and join you, once our time here is up. And smiling and purring from up above every time I rescue another kitty in need, just like you.

I love you, Chaz Bono. I am so sorry about what happened to you. And I will carry you in my heart, and tickle your celestial belly, for always - until we meet again.

Forever,

Your Foster Mommy

The Electromagnetic Air Bubble

2010-07-09T13:55:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I promised that several new blog entries were forthcoming, and I am a woman of my word. Let's start with the funniest one, shall we?

Dharma - my grey-and-white-tuxedo cat - has had several appointments with our veterinarian lately, due to an intermittent loss of appetite. The first step was blood tests, which showed elevated calcium levels. Then, we had to do x-rays, to make sure there wasn't a tumor or other issue on the inside. And there wasn't, thank God.

Tee hee hee, Kellie - what's so funny about that? Nothing so far. It's what happened when my wonderful vet - Dr. Karen Hayworth, of Northview Animal Hospital in Pittsburgh's North Hills - came in to show me the x-ray photos and explain what I saw.

"This is the heart, and it looks normal," she said. "This is the liver, and that also looks normal."

We covered all of the organs from head to tail, from a side viewpoint. Then, she flipped to the next image, which showed a top view of Dharma's spine and trunk. It looked like a normal skeleton, except for a mysterious grey blob in the rib cage.

"And this," Dr Hayworth said, "Is a gas bubble."

I reacted incredulously.

"A FART?!?!?! On an x-ray?!?!" I said, laughing.

(Oh, I am so loving this, I thought. I feel, bubbling up inside me, a great, big, rip-roaringly funny ... blog entry!)

"No, it's more likely a burp," the vet said.

Whether it's the kind that escapes through the front or back door, though, doesn't matter. A flatus, of all things, showing up on an x-ray is pretty darn funny!

When I left the exam room chuckling, I shared the story about the flatulent x-ray with staff and customers in the waiting room. We all had a good laugh!

Now, the next time I need x-rays, I'll remember to skip the Diet Cokes, and refrain from eating beans and cauliflower for a few days. Especially if the doctor is a hottie.

Gaseously yours,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Mother Catresa Goes A.W.O.L.

2010-07-02T10:52:00.000-07:00

We, at long last, return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I must be in the dog ... er, cat house with readers. I haven't written since early May. What gives?

So sorry about my absence. I have been so swamped writing for a living at the newspaper, and caring for an army of kitties at home, that I have been negligent with writing on my blog. But, I am brimming with blog postings yet to be written, because we have so much to catch up on! Stay tuned during the next few weeks for several postings on the following topics:

= The seemingly miraculous adoption of adults Terry and Teddy during kitten season, and how it relates to serendipity in our personal lives.
= The 20-year anniversary of the famous kitten incident in my teen years that laid the foundation for becoming Mother Catresa later in life. (The anniversary, by the way, was a year ago. I know, I know. But the queen of procrastination never puts off until tomorrow what can be put off until next year.)
= The growth and development of my current litter of kittens and mom (including Chaz Bono; see previous post), and how they still haven't been adopted after three months. It's as disappointing as it sounds.
= Finally, the mysterious appearance of a ... er, gaseous bubble in my cat, Dharma's, x-rays. It's as funny as it sounds.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

I Got You Babe

2010-05-03T15:50:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I said in a recent post that my first litter of kittens would be named after pancakes, with Mrs. Butterworth being the mom. I've had a change of plans with this litter: the mom already is named Tiger, and I have such a rare kitten (male tortie) that it calls for an extra-special name.

I have learned that one in every 3,000 torties is a male - some .000001 percent. My little one is a very unique kitty, indeed; although I can't help but think that, if I were to anthropomorphize this fellow, he would struggle with gender identity issues. A male tortie is the equivalent of a human man with Klinefelter's Syndrome, which involves an extra X chromosome and can lessen the masculine appearance and likely kill fertility.

So, I have named my adorable, prized baby ... Chaz Bono, after the famous, transgendered offspring of Sonny and Cher, who sing "I Got You Babe" and many other songs. Hahaha - isn't that cute? Now, if Tiger were nameless and a long-haired black cat, I'd definitely call her Cher. But, alas, the rest of the family is male, so I have come up with these names: the little runt orange tabby is Sonny, the black one is Sherman (a twist on Cher-man), and the buff and white one is a completely unrelated "Buf-Puf." He is poofy and buff-colored, and he just reminds me of the facial sponge, hence the name.

I wonder if my little Chaz yearns to be Chastity? Well, he'll be neutered, so hopefully that will do the trick.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Mama C's B&B

2010-04-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

If only I got paid for what I do. I am running a full-blown Bed & Breakfast for cats at my Pittsburgh-area sanctuary!

Downstairs, there are the usual daily tenants of Yours Truly, and the resident cats Rum Tum Tugger, Dharma, Gormly Girl (G.G.) and Tinsel. Then, go upstairs, and Terry and Teddy - two adult brothers - are cooling their heels in the guest bedroom, where they have been biding their time awaiting adoption for a few months. Then, the second door on the left is the kitten foster/office room, where I moved in a family on Saturday. I have mama cat Tiger - a brown tabby with some orange accents - and four kittens: a buff, orange, black, and rare male tortie. These sniffly babies need me a lot, for love, medical care and socializing. I alternate between their room and T&T's next door, with a lot of hand sanitizer in between. Then, my own cats get me the rest of the time, when I'm home.

I hope that all of my guests are patient with me, and understand that I'm trying to run as hospitable a business as I can with many guests. At Mama C's B&B, guests are pampered, and fed a delicious breakfast of ... chicken or fish. Blech. I'll take the omelets and the cereal - and, of course, pancakes. See a few posts down: flapjacks are the theme for my next litter.

Until next time, I remain in high demand, and -

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

The Kitten Fairy Cometh!

2010-04-16T14:34:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Be careful what you wish for, right? Well, I've been saying I'm ready for some kittens, but so far, a litter has not been offered to Foster Cat, the new group I'm working with. I thought I'd be waiting another month, when shelters start to get flooded.

But, about an hour ago, the Humane Society of Western Pennsylvania contacted Foster Cat and said they had a "project" for an eager foster parent: a mom and four kittens who are being treated for upper respiratory and eye problems. I'm Mother Catresa, and "project" is my middle name! At that place I used to work, kittens that needed extra care (for socialization or otherwise) often were sent to me. I am eager, willing and ready to give these babies and their mama medical care and love and affection.

So much for my planned pancake theme, though, discussed in my last post. The mom, a brown tabby, already has a name: Tiger, so she's not going to be Mrs. Butterworth. The babies are about five weeks old, mostly weaned, and include a cream tabby, an orange tabby, a black one, and - get this - a MALE tortie. No kidding! I am about to meet one of the rarest anomalies in the feline world. About 99 percent of tortoiseshell and calico kitties are female, because of the X chromosome involved with black and orange. The almost unheard-of male has a genetic glitch and is probably sterile, but otherwise, a normal kitty that is just a prized rarity.

Oh, this is going to be fun. I pick them up on Saturday. Wish me well, and stay tuned!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

International House of Kittencakes

2010-03-30T12:56:00.000-07:00

We finally return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

It's been way too long, hasn't it? I've been so swamped with planning the annual awards banquet for my Women's Press Club of Pittsburgh, and preparing to be a keynote speaker (very excited!) at a journalism function in Harrisburg next month, that I haven't been blogging for the past two months.

I have much to catch up and fill y'all in on. But for now, here's just a quick blurb: kitten season is on the way! Yes, yes, yes! I'm chomping at the bit! Send 'em over, because Mama C is ready, Freddy.

In fact, I already have a humorous name theme picked out for my first litter of the year. I wrote a story a few weeks ago about a maple syrup festival, and suddenly, I was craving pancakes. Then came the revelation: hey, that would make a great kitten litter name group, wouldn't it?

I've got it all figured out. I'll name the mother cat Mrs. Butterworth, and the kittens will be: Aunt Jemima, Hungry Jack, Bisquick, IHOP, Grand Slam and ... anything else? Ideas welcome.

Oh, I can't wait. Let the furr n' purr festival begin.

Until next time, I remain hungry for breakfast, and,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

UC-Pittsburgh, Class of 2009

2010-01-04T19:44:00.000-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Daaaaaah, dah-dah-dah, daaaaaaaah-dah ...

Is that "Pomp and Circumstance" I hear? Are those tiny caps and catnip-padded gowns I see?

It must be. After all, it's the start of a new year again, and the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh has just graduated a new class of 16 student felines who came to Mother Catresa as orphans.

The felines - mostly babies - attended kitten boot camp at Mother Catresa's sanctuary, where the kitties were loved, nurtured, and nursed as they blossomed into future pets for some lucky owners. Except for two current tenants - adults Terry and Teddy - all alumni of the Class of 2009 now are enjoying their forever homes.

Following is a chronological list of kitties who, in 2009, earned their Scratchelor of Science degrees from UC-Pittsburgh:
= I started the spring with Orla and Lenore, two sister kittens whom I had for maybe just a week. Orla is a longhaired cream tortie, and Lenore is a black and white tuxedo.
= Then came Dorianna, a beautiful gray mother, and her newborn gray babies Malcolm and Inara. Watching them nurse warmed my heart. Aaaawwww ...
= Then, along came the girlie slumber party, with the female litter quartet of B/W tuxedoes Blythe and Basia, solid black Babe, and .... Oh, Brita! That beautiful, sweet gray and white baby that I bonded with so deeply. I fell in love with her, and miss her every day. She probably looks like a young lady by now.
= In July, I raised my final Animal Friends litter: black mother Gonzo, and her five newborn babies. I was devastated when the tiny black baby girl, who was named Gardner, died in the nursery when she was only a few days old. She will forever be in my heart, and the honorary 17th graduate of the year. The remaining littermates - gray Fleming, gray and white Gamble, black and white Gershon, and white and black cow-like Fleming - stayed with me through October.
= Last month, I took in Terry and Teddy, two sweet adult males who are orange and brown/black tabby, respectively. I am fostering them for Foster Cat, the Pittsburgh all-volunteer kitty rescue network for which I now work. I will write a posting about this other group soon.

It has been an honor and a joy for Mother Catresa, chancellor of UC-Pittsburgh, to graduate these sweet, adorable, deserving kitties. She looks forward to, hopefully, an even more fruitful 2010, and hopes to save many more precious lives.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

193,573

2009-12-12T18:51:00.000-08:00

Dear readers,

That was the final odometer count on my old "Little Red Skittle," before it was finally towed away.

That Nissan 200SX and I spent 193,573 miles over 12 years together, from the prairies and skyscrapers of Dallas/Fort Worth to the cornfields of Illinois, to the hills of Pittsburgh and beyond. Just a few weeks ago, I said my final goodbye. (If you missed that story, regarding my sentimental attachment to the fatally wounded car, look a few posts down for the background.)

I went up to the North Hills Firestone, where the car had been parked since its Labor Day breakdown as I figured out what to do next. I signed over the papers of my Texas title to the regional Goodwill Auto Auction.

And then, completely unconcerned about how weird I might look to the mechanics, I pulled up my new Little Red Skittle - almost the exact same car, only newer and fancier - and parked the two cousins nose to nose. I took a little movie with my camcorder, and narrated the story of my car replacement, and the transition from Skittle One to Skittle Two.

Then, I climbed into the old car, laid my head on the steering wheel I had held for so many hours of my life, closed my misty eyes, and reminisced about all the things this era of my life - and, thus, this car - represented. The cross-country moves. My life as a Texas girl that I thought would never end. My life in graduate school in the Midwest. My life as a Pittsburgh journalist that took me by surprise, and even exceeded my ambitions and dreams. All the exciting media banquets I have presided over as president of the Women's Press Club of Pittsburgh. All the people I have met, known, loved and parted with. All the dates and occasions for which I primped in that rearview mirror. All the American scenery I saw. All the conversations I had within those walls of metal and glass.

The most recent and poignant memory, perhaps, was this: All those Animal Friends foster kittens I had transported in that car, back and forth to that place I called my second home for three years. And, with a heavy heart, I have to share this news: that part of my life, too, is no more.

Not fostering itself: Mother Catresa is passionate about what she does, and will continue her work saving lives. But now, it will be with a different organization. (More on that later, but I already have started with two adult foster cats, Terry and Teddy, and I am excited to give my devotion and work to this great new group.)

As it turned out, my car breakdown symbolically foreshadowed what soon was to come in my life: an unexpected twist for which I was unprepared, and that shook me up. Indeed, almost the exact same thing - doing foster work, only at a different place - soon came, just like my new Skittle car did. I have great hopes for my future, and know I will go on to persevere and thrive once again.

Yet, I loved many of the people I met and befriended at Animal Friends, and I miss them deeply - especially during the Christmas season, when we shared wonderful Yuletide parties. I really feel the absence, and it hurts. To those people - you know who you are - know this: I cherished our time together, miss you, and hope to stay in touch.

And to everyone at Animal Friends, I thank you sincerely for the opportunities you gave me, and the years we spent together as I learned and grew in my new venture as a kitten foster mama. I have wonderful memories, and learned skills, that will stay with me a lifetime.

Mother Catresa is not truly gone: she is with you in spirit, still roaming the halls of Animal Friends. Still cracking jokes and being a goofball. Still beaming at you when she's happy to see you. Still lighting up when her kittens, and all the animals there, find their forever homes. And still writing her blog, which she hopes you'll continue to read and enjoy. Please don't forget me.

May y'all remember me, especially, whenever you smell a gassy kitten. It gets me giggling every time.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, dear readers.

I remain, ever yours,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Mother Catresa Goes Trick-or-Treating

2009-11-14T21:11:00.000-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

So, what makes a true friend after all?

Many would cite these characteristics: Loyalty. Trustworthiness. Reliability. Honesty. Integrity.

I love - in fact, require - these characteristics in close friends. But do you want to know what really makes someone stand out as a keeper?

Someone who dresses up as me for Halloween.

Yes, you read that right. Aw, ain't that a sweet hoot and a half?

You see, my friend from graduate school - Cousin Catnip from the Cornfields, who is the subject of a self-titled blog post a few entries back - decided to honor Mother Catresa for her work rescuing homeless kittens. Catnip - otherwise known as Jaime Ingle, from Illinois - created a Mother Catresa nun costume for All Hallow's Eve by adorning the habit with cat ears, and painting black whiskers and a nose on her face. Check out these pictures. (Note: this is the first time the technologically challenged Mama C actually uploaded photos onto her blog!)

When people naturally asked Jaime what the heck she was supposed to be, Catnip told her friends the story of me - her friend in Pittsburgh who has a passion for rescuing homeless kittens, and giving them all the love they can stand. Now, Mother Catresa has a fan base in the Midwest.

Hey, Jaime? I'm very flattered, amused and tickled pink. I have to say, I also am quite relieved that the Kellie costume didn't involve some scary, gory mask.

Thanks for your support and fandom, sweetheart. They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery.

With love from,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Cats and Dogs and ... Hamsters? Oh, My!

2009-10-13T11:43:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I am crazy busy this week, but I just couldn't resist this quickie sound bite about an odd but delightful new development at Animal Friends. Apparently, a recent humane rescue involving an irresponsible snake owner wielded several homeless hamsters. The kindhearted humane agents rescued the hamsters, at least a dozen of them, and brought them in to Animal Friends, where they await adoption in individual cages.

Normally, the shelter adopts out cats, dogs and rabbits. But now, many adopters are surprising themselves by instead leaving with tiny, furry hamsters burrowing under sawdust. Shelter workers gave many of the rodents ham-themed names, like Hampshire, Ham Salad, and the like. Clever!

Now, as for me, I would love to take home a cute little hamster. That is one pet that I never had, even with a lifelong Noah's Ark-type lineup that included cats, dogs, parakeets, a rabbit, a hermit crab and even an Arabian horse. My high school friend, Lori Friedman, once jokingly called my childhood house "Animal Kingdom!" Surely, it's tempting to adopt a pocket pet and bring it home.

Yet, something tells Mother Catresa that - in a household of four cats, plus any number of baby, razor-toothed carnivores at a given time - a rodent is not the wisest choice of pets. Even if I could keep the hamster in a safe, high place, the poor thing probably would have a heart attack just peering down at the circling feline predators down below who view it, literally, as a ham salad.

Yes, indeed. A hamster is tempting. But for Mother Catresa, wouldn't having a pet hamster be like Charlton Heston of the NRA owning a pet deer?

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten"0

High Mileage Cars, High Mileage Cats

2009-09-28T11:37:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Until Labor Day, I had two major, in-person fixtures in my everyday life that tied me to my Texas roots and have shared multiple phases of my life with me: Rum Tum Tugger, my 13-year-old orange tabby, and my well-loved, fire engine red, 1997 Nissan 200SX. Now, I'm down to just Rum Tum - and, old buddy, you'd better stick with me for a long, long, time to come!

A few weeks ago, my adorable, sleek, girlie-girl-foxy-Texas-woman's-Sun Belt type-of-car that I got brand-new after college graduation - a car I called my Little Red Skittle - had a breakdown that turned out to be fatal. While I have no attachment to metal, rubber and upholstery, per se, I tend to get very attached to things like cars, apartments, houses, and even grocery stores. They are a part of my routine - and, therefore, they are a part of me. And I don't let go easily.

Parts of my everyday life, even the inanimate ones, become a comfort to me. I have sat in every apartment I have left, crying and reminiscing before, finally, I walk away and close that door one last time - usually, after re-opening the doors several times for one more peek. Some of my friends think it's silly - and, in a way, it is - but I know many people nonetheless can relate to such impractical sentimentality.

My car and I spent 193,000 glorious miles together through multiple life phases and cross-country moves. I drove it for numerous road trips under the blazing Texas sun, punctuated by a year in Illinois for graduate school. I remember, after I arrived up north and winter rolled in, I beheld about the darndest thing my Southwestern driver's eyes had ever seen: my Little Red Skittle, covered with a half foot of snow!

And then, a few years later, I and my mechanical bud - with Rum Tum and Buster, my late gray and black tabby, packed up cozily in the back seat - embarked on the biggest and longest-lasting adventure so far: my move up to Pittsburgh from Dallas. And Skittle has been with me ever since: in fact, as of the week of Halloween, I will have been here seven years. Yes, seven.

Now, wouldn't you know it, the Good Lord knew what was coming, and already had the perfect replacement car lined up for me. Guess what I bought a week ago? Another Little Red Skittle! Yep, it's my old car's kissing cousin, only a year newer, 60,000 fewer miles, and an upgraded SE model with more options and a fancier interior. Can you dig it?

I love my 1998 Nissan 200SX-SE. It feels like home. And so does Rum Tum, who remains the only living part of my past that is with me every day.

Oh, will I grieve hard when it's time for him to go, but - God? - may that be a long, long ways away. He gets frequent oil changes - er, vet visits - and top-notch, 93-octane gas - er, nutritious food.

Now, this reminds me: although I want to see all my kittens get homes, if you're looking for a feline, please remember that high-mileage cats like Rum Tum still run great. And the adults, especially older ones, are the kitties who need homes the most. This weekend, Animal Friends had an "Oldies but Goodies" event, where we promoted our older animals while '50s music played in the background. It was a precious idea.

Everyone seems to want a kitten, but please don't forget to consider pre-owned cats. Often, like cars, they have very low mileage, and lost their homes at a young age because of an owner's move. Sometimes, people "trade in" their cats for a boyfriend, or even a newer model that matches the furniture better. But these cats still have many years left in them, full of love to give to a special someone. Depreciation of value is nonexistent in the pet world.

So, please visit your local animal dealer - um, shelter - today. Whether you adopt a baby or an adult, we guarantee a manufacturer's rebate of love and affection.

Until next time, this Skittle lover remains,

Mother Catresa
Patrons Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

"Won't You Be My Littermate - er, Friend?"

2009-09-01T09:08:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Alright, I finally did it. This technology-resistant fuddy duddy caved in to the pressure from family and friends and joined Facebook. (Hey, folks? You can lay off now.) :)

Ever since this Web site exploded during the past year, I've been resisting it, and wary of being sucked in to this phenomenon. I frankly thought it was juvenile, and really, it is. Doesn't it sound kind of junior high-ish to have a public listing saying, "Lookie here - these are my friends! So-and-so wants to be my friend! She's my friend, but not your friend! I have more friends than you - neener, neener, neener!"

And surely, Facebook redefines the word "friend." Really, how many people have hundreds or even thousands of friends? Casual acquaintances, maybe, but friends? Get real. I've also noted how Facebook seems to be a colossal time sucker.

"It's addicting," friends tell me. "I can spend hours on it."

Oh, no, I think. I've had real addictions, the deadly kind. So maybe Facebook won't knock off my brain cells, but still ...

Well, nonetheless, I realized that Facebook, if anything, is a great way to promote Mother Catresa's Chronicle, so I took the plunge this weekend. I hope it will make KITT-FM's fan base explode. Wouldn't you know it; I already have numerous friends. And yes, I'm spending way more time on it than I should.

So, I have a favor to ask - um, will you be my friend? Please? Pretty please? I'm kind of a loser, you know, and I need friends. C'mon, it will make your Facebook profile look more impressive if you beef up your friend list. Please send me a friend request, and approve mine if I sent you one.

Actually, I think there really is at least one other Kellie Gormly on Facebook. I'm the one with the blank picture square from Pittsburgh - unless, I have a double who joined in the past few days. Otherwise, that's me.

I plan to put a picture of a kitten up there as soon as I figure out how. Until I drop a few pounds, my public image will remain a furry one.

Meanwhile, I'm loving on Gonzo and her four babies, who are dividing their time between nursing and eating real food. Gonzo is such a good mom: she's letting these 6-week-old kittens indulge in her teats longer than they need to. But I'm sure she'll soon reach the point where she says, "Uh, uh, junior. Time to cut it."

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Onward and Upward

2009-08-20T16:54:00.001-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Thursdays are my busiest and most exhausting days of the week, with deadlines galore. So why, then, am I wrapping up this day with yet another thing to write?

Well, simply, there's a big difference between writing for work and writing for fun. At work, it can take me hours to compose a newspaper feature article. But with Mother Catresa's Chronicle, it's a whole different ... um, animal. These blog entries come very easily and quickly to me and are a pure joy; the words usually just flow right out, and I feel energized, not tired, when I'm done. And no editor needs to approve a word of it before I publish. Cool!

I just wanted to check back in after the heartbreak described in my last post: the little black kitten from my current litter died. I am happy now to report, though, that her four littermates seem to be thriving. They are about one month old now, hobble and wobble around like toddlers, and are just beginning to romp and play a bit, along with the constant sleeping of early infancy. The mother, Gonzo (not Grover, as I thought before), is taking good care of them and still nursing the babies. I'm trying to turn them on to a bit of canned food, since they should start the weaning process soon.

I'm sure Gonzo's boobs are quite sore by now, and she will welcome this restful move toward her kittens' independence. Think about it: we humans get sore with one baby nursing from one teat. Imagine having four hungry babies sucking away on you, all day. Ouch!

Thank you to everyone who spoke such kind words to me when I lost the baby a few weeks ago. It brought comfort to my heart. I realize that we fosters are like ER doctors: we're in the business of saving lives, but inevitably, in our line of work, some lives will be lost. I feel like I just finished a lucky, uneventful two-year residency with no patient deaths - and now, starting with this loss, I'm a full-fledged doc who's seen it all.

Does losing this kitten make me want to quit fostering? Absolutely not. In fact, I am all the more motivated to do this work. Look at it this way: I've saved some 50 lives over the past two years, and 49 is a much bigger number than 1.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Kitty Heaven Has a New Angel

2009-07-31T13:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Mother Catresa fans,

I suppose I knew, deep down, that this day would eventually come. But that doesn't make it any easier, and I never could be prepared.

On Wednesday, one of my five newborn kittens died.

The tiny, all-black, female baby was barely a week old when I came home from work, and found her lying, frozen and lifeless, in a corner of the nursery. She had seemed fine before that; in fact, she seemed to want to break away from the litter and step out of the nursery (an extra-large cat carrier) and explore the big world waiting for her. This seems like the feline version of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome).

I've been told that this happens all the time, and that newborn kittens - particularly those from unhealthy backgrounds - are just so fragile and vulnerable, and some just don't make it.

Surely, I know, in this line of work I do, the occasional death of a baby I foster is inevitable. This was the first time it has happened to me in my two years of fostering - and, with many years ahead of me, I'm sure it won't be the last.

Still, I feel so awful about it, wondering what more I could have done to save her. I am so saddened to see this tiny little kitten, barely beginning her life, gone so very soon.

When I found her dead, I lovingly wrapped her in an old washcloth, and held her close as I cried. I then gently placed her and the cloth into a shoebox. This morning, I wept hard when I brought her in and left her at the shelter, where they will have the body cremated.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks, as I petted her furry, soft head one last time.

Then, as I turned around and limped away on my sprained ankle, I prayed that, someday, this sweet little feline who lost her earthly life will be there to greet me in that otherworldly "Sweet Bye and Bye."

As always, I am,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

"Oh, Rats!"

2009-07-28T18:29:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

On Friday, I picked up a litter of five newborn kittens and their mom: a malnourished, sweet black kitty named Grover. She was part of a big rescue done by the Animal Friends' humane investigations department; some owner evidently was pretty negligent and irresponsible. From that home were seized some 20 cats, many of which were expectant or new mothers. It kind of reminds me of the poster situation for human welfare reform: poor, young, unwed mothers having numerous kids for whom they can't provide well. But when an animal is the mommy, it's entirely the custodial human's fault for not taking care of her and getting her spayed.

But, oh, what sweet babies resulted from this! They are tiny newborns, no more than a few days old. Their eyes are barely open, their ears are folded down, and they fit into the palm of my hand. They look like little ... rats! (Shall we scientifically call a newborn cat a "kittenus ratticus," maybe?) Seriously, they look like cute little rodents at this age! There is one black one, a black and white one, a solid grey one, a grey and white one, and a white one with a few black blotches, like a little cow. So cute!

Now, I thought the "Oh, Rats!" title simply would be a play on the appearance of newborn kittens, but then, the interjectory expression took on an unfortunate new meaning. On Sunday, I suffered an awful fall at my house and sprained my ankle. I have taken two days off of work to heal my ankle, which is so bruised and swollen that it hyperbolically reminds me of, perhaps, an inflatable Batman's foot at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I went to my doctor's yesterday, and was sent to a hospital for x-rays, to make sure I didn't fracture a bone. I'm waiting for those test results, and hobbling in an ACE bandage in the meantime.

I have to say, newborn kittens - so long as they are with their mom - are the perfect foster kittens for an injured foster mama like me. The kitty mama does pretty much all the work with the tiny babies and wants to be left alone most of the time, so I don't have to run up and down the stairs constantly! I just bring Grover some food, clean her litterbox, pet her (and the babies, a little), and then lie down and watch Grover nurse her kittens. The maternal scene is so sweet and calming.

Altogether now: aaaaaawwwww!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Loving, Losing and Living

2009-07-21T14:12:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tuning into KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks,

I had to bring my beloved baby girl, Brita, back to the shelter on Sunday. There, she and her black sister, Babe, who finally was starting to warm up to me, are awaiting their spay surgery in a cage.

And their mom-mom, yours truly, longs to hold and comfort them. And she thus far largely has avoided going into the now-vacant kitten room at home, because it chokes her up. It's as if Brita and Babe will burst through the door when it's opened, and instead, it's empty.

I love all animals I foster, but Brita was something extra special. I totally fell in love with the grey and white beauty, whom I nursed to health from her frail, anorexic condition when she was only about six weeks old. Brita was one of the sweetest, most gentle and affectionate kittens I ever have had - if not, the sweetest. She just couldn't wait to cuddle up to me, and would start purring like a motorboat just when I walked in the room.

I wanted to adopt her so badly, but with four cats - three of which are "foster failures," and the other of which is an ailing senior - I'm just at my limit. Love doesn't always mean clinging at all costs; quite the contrary. In fact, truly loving - in a sacrificial way - sometimes involves setting the loved one free, if that's what is best for the person/cat, etc. Even though it may break your heart.

So, Brita, my sweet baby - I miss you and Babe so much. I am praying that God is preparing a home with people who will love you as much as I do. I will hold my adorable "smitten kitten" in my heart forever - and don't you ever forget yours, either.

Oh, Brita. You had me at "meow."

Oodles of love, hugs and kitty kisses,

Mother Catresa
Patrons Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Dr. K.B. Gormly, D.V.M.

2009-07-16T15:02:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks,

I have had an exhausting deadline day with newspaper stories today, so I just had to wrap up my day with a quick epistle of the fun, unedited stuff.

Now, unfortunately, the KITT-FM topic isn't nearly as fun this time: it's about my sweet old guy Rum Tum Tugger, who is still quite ill with the respiratory infection he came down with two weeks ago. I took him to the animal ER on July 3, then I had to have him hospitalized overnight a few days later. Since then, he's been on intensive home care. At least once a day, I have to clean off his crusted face, put on the vaporizer, force-feed him with a syringe, and even give him fluids under the skin via a needle and IV bag. I also give him an antibiotic, immune booster and eye ointment twice a day.

The poor guy is hanging in there, but still very congested, and he has no appetite. I am giving him his next dose of the appetite stimulants tonight. Rum Tum definitely has perked up, though, and isn't isolating himself like he was before. The vet thinks he definitely is on the mend. Please keep the 13-year-old orange tabby and white kitty in your prayers. Having Cousin Catnip from the Cornfields here (see my last post) was such a blessing to both me and R.T. She was his roommate, and he got some good cuddle time and morale boosting. Catnip was like the nurse, and I was like the doctor who came in for the treatments, and said, "Syringe, please! Forceps, please!"

Meanwhile, my two kittens - Babe and Brita - remain next door. I am going back and forth between them and R.T. during the evenings, and using up a lot of hand sanitizer. I think the kittens will be going back on Sunday. I hope they forgive me for my slight neglect during the past two weeks. My time has been in much higher demand than usual.

With my newspaper industry in shambles, maybe I should apply to go to vet school. What do you think?

Nah, it's out of the question at this point. But it's always fun to fantasize about what I want to be when I grow up.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Cousin Catnip from the Cornfields

2009-07-08T08:12:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I've had a rough week: Rum Tum Tugger, my senior cat, is very sick with some kind of respiratory infection. I had to take him to the ER on Friday, and to the vet again today. He is staying overnight for treatment, because he is so weak and dehydrated, and hasn't eaten for a few days. Please keep sweet little Rum Tum, and his mom, in your prayers.

The vet is confident that the orange tabby trooper will pull through, and that he will recover fully after home care. And he'd better, because on Friday, his aunt Jaime - otherwise known as Cousin Catnip from the Cornfields - is paying Mother Catresa a visit from Illinois! Catnip and Rum Tum, a longtime buddy of hers, will be roommates in my guest room. They should keep each other company.

Now, let me tell you a little bit about Cousin Catnip from the Cornfields, and how she got that way.

It all started back in 1999 - wow, it's the 10-year anniversary of that dramatic life change and grand adventure! I was working in my first post-college job as a staff writer at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram back in Texas. Yet as good as that looked on my resume, I was like a brand-new Porsche with four flat tires: I looked great, but I wasn't going anywhere. It was a great job in some ways, but clearly, advancement and greater challenges were not possible.

I could write an entire anthology on this chapter of my life, but I'll put it in a nutshell: after numerous job doors slammed in my face, I opted for something else - graduate school. I applied and was accepted into the Public Affairs Reporting program at the University of Illinois at Springfield, one of the most pretigious master's programs in the country for journalism.

I am so proud to be an alumna of that program, and also to say that I worked a reporting/writing internship for Copley News Service at the Illinois Statehouse in 2000, when Barack Obama was a state senator! The next President of the United States, in my midst? Wow, what a trip. And both Catnip and I lived in a 1920s-style apartment complex just down the road from the Downtown Springfield governor's mansion, where lived the corrupt George Ryan, who since has joined the Illinois governors' wing of prison. (Hey, George? Kellie from Texas here. Remember me? That bratty student from down South who grilled you at a news conference, and whom you chewed out? Say hi to Blagojevich for me, will you?)

Anyway, I left my home, friends and job in Texas - very difficult and scary emotionally - and embarked on my journey up to the cornfields of Central Illinois for a one-year program. It turned out to be a wonderful new beginning for my career and life in general, and a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I wouldn't trade for anything. Even the student loan bills.

So, it's there that I met Catnip, who simply was known as Jaime at the time. Well, actually, I sometimes called her Scarecrow, and she called me Dorothy, and we once sang, "Ding-Dong, the Witch is Dead!" We even bought red shoes and clicked our heels. But that "Wizard of Oz" thing is another story.

She, too, was an animal lover, and instantly bonded with my two cats - Rum Tum and Buster, who, God rest his soul, went up to kitty heaven on Oct. 31, 2007. I remember a big laugh when, just a few weeks into the year, our classmate Holly said, at a party, "So, how are your cats? Boom-Boom and Bruce, right?"

It was a hilarious misunderstanding of my cats' names, and the wrong names still stuck as the occasional nickname (Buster "Bruce" Gormly, for instance).

Well, Catnip really did enjoy my cats. I'll never forget the time when, on a glorious Sunday morning, we were getting ready to walk to a nearby church for a worship service. I started panicking, because I couldn't find Rum Tum - one of the feline world's sneakiest hiders - anywhere. After combing the place and looking for Rum Tum everywhere but inside the bathtub drain, we finally found him - smooshed between the wall and the back of the old-fashioned gas stove. We had to chase him out with a broom!

So then, years later, Jaime became Triple-C when Kellie became Mother Catresa, and Catnip instantly became one of my biggest fans. In fact, Catnip promises that when she buys her own house, she will start a St. Louis-area campus for the Mother Catresa operation. In fact, I am seeking associates all over the country who want to resuce kittens - any volunteers?

Hey, Catnip? I'm holding you to that. But in the meantime, you just get yourself down here, and I'll show you a good time in Pittsburgh. Rum Tum, the girls (my new cats, whom you haven't met) and the two foster kittens - Brita and Babe - are waiting. Oh yeah, I am too.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

I Smelt It - But, Who Dealt It?

2009-06-30T11:14:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I thought that I was giving my two kittens back this week, and that this post would be a sentimental tear-jerker about loving, losing and letting go with Brita, the gray and white "smitten kitten" I've bonded with so much. But, because Babe still needs to gain weight, Brita got to come back home with her sis for another week or so, while Babe - who also needs more socialization - fattens up. Yippee! I think God knew that I wasn't yet ready to give up my baby girl, who has been such a source of comfort, love and affection during a stressful time for me.

Meanwhile, Blythe and Basia, the tuxedoes, got adopted into good families on Sunday. Hooray!

So, since the drama has been delayed for awhile - now, it's back to the wild comedy for which Mother Catresa's Chronicle is known.

I want to share with you an amusing pattern I've observed at the shelter during kitten adoptions. As I have shared before, a common malady of kittenhood is malodorous gas - seriously! Whew! It's provided some unpleasant nose-tickling, but also delightful funny-bone-tickling, for me. You've just gotta have a sense of humor about these things - life is dull otherwise! You've been warned: read on for more, if you can stand it.

Well, kitten farts tend to be the silent but violent types. So, in a social situation, it can create some embarrassing moments for the foster moms and adoption counselors. The kitten will slyly cut one, and since there's no sound to pinpoint the origin, there's just a mysterious odor - and, naturally, the people in the room wonder who is responsible. Surely, not that tiny little kitten, right? Oh yes, it was! We know that, but the visitors don't. People get paranoid that the visitors think they, not the frisky felines, are floating the smelly air biscuits.

So, to tactfully address the aroma, staff members and volunteers often simply say, "Um, I think he/she needs to use the litter box."

The other day, I overheard such a remark during a kitten shower at the shelter, when Basia was being Little Miss Grumpy McGassy. I couldn't stop giggling about it for the rest of the day, and it's still making me chuckle.

Does anyone else get how funny that is?

What? No? You're not laughing?

Well, I guess you just had to be there.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

She Loves Me Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!

2009-06-19T10:10:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I love all of my kittens, and most of them eventually end up loving me. Every once in awhile, though, I get a furry baby who just seems to be crazy about me, falls hard, and can't get enough of me. I, in turn, lap up the attention like the kitty would with tuna juice from a can, and I can't help falling especially in love.

In this litter, that kitten is Brita - the grey and white baby who was so emaciated and not eating well when I first brought her and her littermates home on Mother's Day. The poor girl has had a tough time, and seemed so weak when I got her, compared to her more rambunctious littermates. But even then, she sought me out like I was her own four-legged mother, and she wanted to do nothing but lie gently and quietly on my chest and snuggle. Brita is like my shadow. I have to watch my every move, so I don't accidentally squash her. If I am lying down on my side, for instance, I have to stretch my hand behind me, to make sure she isn't lurking behind my butt before I roll over. And she usually is somewhere within a three-inch radius of my body, if she's not actually on top of it.

Now, I am happy to report that Brita has gained weight, is eating like a champ, purring loudly, and romping around like a regular, happy kitten. Meanwhile, her black and white tuxedo sisters - Blythe and Basia - went in for their spay surgery this week, and are out on the adoption floor. Brita and Babe, her black sister, are not quite big enough yet to be spayed, but I am bringing them both in to Animal Friends on Sunday for a kitten shower. An adopoter can pre-adopt either kitten, then pick them up when the kitties are ready. The two I have may have gained the tiny amount of weight needed in the past week to go ahead and have the surgery.

Gosh, kittens like Brita - the ones I bond the most deeply with - are the hardest to give up. I am going to spend lots of time with the babies this weekend. And I'm going to cry when it's time.

It feels so good when an animal loves you that much - in fact, Brita starts purring just by looking at me, as soon as I walk in the room. It's so sweet and touching. She is a smitten kitten indeed, and so am I.

Now, if only I could find a two-legged primate who would fall in love with me like that!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Whoop-Dee-Doo, a Baby Switcheroo!

2009-05-26T13:50:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

It's among a mother's worst nightmares: someone switches babies on her at the hospital, and she takes home the wrong one. Well, in Mother Catresa's case, the feline version of that scenario provided much-needed comic relief - though it did startle me something awful!

I had to take in my kittens - still the four slumber party girls - to the medical department at the shelter last week, so they could be weighed and examined. The day after I took them in, I swung by after work to go pick them up. After chatting with the medical staff, we packed up the kittens in a cardboard carrier. Sure, there were other animals in the room, but that didn't quite register on me. My kittens were right in front of me - or so I thought - so I simply picked up the carrier, walked out, and left for my car.

Well, when I was almost home, it occurred to me: these kittens, who were noisy on the way to the shelter, seemed awfully quiet during this drive. Curiously, I glanced sideways at the box on the passenger seat - when, much to my shock, a tabby arm suddenly popped out of one of the portholes!

WHAT?!?!?!

I was so confused, I didn't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt!
I don't have any tabbies, I thought; mine are gray, black and white. What the hairball hell is happening here?

It was past 7 p.m., and the shelter was closed. So I called the after-hours numbers in a panic, and tracked someone down on her cell phone.

"I took home the wrong kittens!" I cried. "I'm on my way back in - can somebody please help me?"

Well, on the drive back to Animal Friends, the begged question dawned on me:

If these aren't my kittens, I thought, then where are mine?? And whose are these??

As I drove into the parking lot, I peeked inside the box at my furry captives - they were a tabby kitten and a tortoisehell kitten. Very cute. But I had no idea who they were, or where those charged to my care were.

Someone let me in, and figured out the source of the confusion. Apparently, I accidentally took the kittens of a shelter worker who also fosters, and vice-versa. Luckily, she lives just a few miles away, so I hurried on over there, and we traded kittens over a few laughs. And yes: this time, I did indeed peer inside the box - just to be sure, before I left, that it didn't house a tarantula. You know.

Sure enough, the box contained my cute little babies: black and white tuxedoes Blythe and Basia, gray and white Brita, and little black runt Babe. They peered up at me curiously, as if to say, "What's up with all this ado, Mom? Can we go home now, ahem?"

Now, since then, Brita hasn't been eating well and became emaciated - while Babe remained too tiny. So, they are in the medical department, while the robust Blythe and Basia are at home with me, eating like little piggies and running around like they're on crack (in other words, normal kittens). The tiny babies have started eating adequately again, so I should be bringing them back home tomorrow to join their big sisters.

I know, I know - I will double-check the carrier first, before I leave. I'd hate to carry it upstairs to the kittens' room, open it and ... out pops a rambunctious puppy! Eeeek!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Three Weeks, Three Litters

2009-04-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

A few weeks ago, I wrote a long post about the mother cat and her two tiny babies, whom I fostered for awhile. Damn my computer, which farted right as I clicked "Post," and the entire entry was gone. I was so bummed. I thought I'd just try to recapture what I wrote by memory, but in just one week's time, I've gone through another litter - then, I brought home new ones yesterday!

That's three litters in about three weeks. Read my last post with news from our meteorologist, Chance O. Showers: it really is pouring (or is it purring?) kittens!

Let me recap the lineup so far.

The first litter featured a beautiful and sweet mother cat named Dorianna, and her two newborn babies. They were only a few days old when I got them, and their eyes weren't even opened yet. Such delicate little angels! I've never had kittens that little. It was so sweet to watch them snuggle up to their mommy and nurse. Kittens that young don't do much; their movements consist mostly of stretching in search of a nipple, a very slight and shaky crawling, and rolling over onto their backs. This is the cutest pose, because the tiny babies kick their legs in the air, like bugs on their backs. I took a movie of them on my new camcorder. If I can ever get tech-savvy enough, maybe I can post it here on my blog.

Unfortunately, I had to give up Dorianna, a medium-haired gray kitty, and babies - Malcolm and Inara - early, because Malcom had a nasty eye infection. The staff wanted to send the litter to a foster home where someone is available throughout the day to clean the eye constantly. I can't take cases like that, because of my work schedule. I greatly miss the mama and babies; they were so very sweet, and Dorianna was a model doting mom. She deserves a Mother's Day can of tuna!

The second litter - sisters Orla, a blue-cream longhaired tortie, and Lenore, a black-and-white tuxedo - came to me in the middle of last week, and it seems like they were in and out faster than you can say kitty litter. They just needed to stay somewhere for a few days before the kitten shower, held yesterday (Sunday) for Mother's Day. So, Sunday morning, I packed them up and headed to Animal Friends, where each was claimed by a loving family within three hours. Our time together was short but sweet.

Now, finally - the current residents at Mother Catresa's sanctuary! I left the shelter yesterday with a litter of four tiny, five-week-old girls - oh, they are so itty-bitty! The runt, a little black girl, practically fits in the palm of my hand. I haven't checked the paperwork for their names, although I know that the shelter staff gave them all names that begin with "B." Two are black-and-white tuxedoes that look exactly alike; I'm hoping to find a unique freckle on one of them, so I can tell them apart. One is solid black (the runt), and the other is gray and white. They are all shy and mostly hiding in my bookshelves and around my computer, but wouldn't you do the same if you were an orphaned baby missing its mommy in a strange place?

I am amused that I have an all-girl lot of kittens - it's like a slumber party up there! Maybe I should head to a toy store and buy them some Barbies and a Dream Corvette, so they can play girly games together. And I, the mom, can bake cupcakes - and eat them all myself. Hey, it's for their own good; chocolate and sugar must give kittens bad gas.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

This Just In: It's Raining Kittens! Hallelujiah!

2009-04-16T14:16:00.000-07:00

We interrupt this regular programming for an urgent news flash from KITT-FM and our meteorologist, Chance O. Showers:

PITTSBURGH - Good evening, folks!

Previously, KITT-FM reported partly cloudy weather, with a chance of kitten showers soon to come as spring rolls in. But according to our sources, a massive wet front now is headed our way, and we can expect to see kitten thunderstorms striking as soon as tomorrow at Mother Catresa's Pittsburgh sanctuary.

"Just look at that sky - man, isn't that forbidding?" remarks Mother Catresa, KITT-FM's popular hostess who also goes by Kellie Gormly. "Gosh, it's been gray all week. But now, it's almost black out there, and those clouds are swelling. Don't even get me started about the humidity, too; it's making my naturally curly hair all frizzy. What is this, the 'Wizard of Oz?' "

Catresa, 36, reportedly received a message from Animal Friends today that several kitten litters need prompt shelter. And as kitten season goes, this torrential monsoon is expected to last several months.

"So maybe it gets muddy and messy, but oh, I can't wait!" she says. "I start seriously jonesing for kittens after those dreary winter months!"

Stay tuned for frequent weather updates from Chance O. Showers, right here on KITT-FM.

I Know They Miss Me Buh-LIND ... Don't They?

2009-04-14T19:27:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

That odd title, for most of my peers, will ring a bell in its reference to one of the early '80s hits, "Miss Me Blind," by Culture Club (you know, the band fronted by Boy George with that bizarre clown makeup). May I say, for the record, that I think that song was one of the more annoying ditties of my childhood decade?

Anyway, what's the feline connection here? I just returned from a lovely four-day trip to El Paso, Texas, to visit my grandmother and mother for Easter. We had a great time. Truthfully, though, when I'm traveling, I miss my kitty-cats. As much as I love the thrill and experience of going places and experiencing different things - a'la "Karma Chameleon," I suppose - going to bed sans furry, vibrating companions (no double entendre intended, seriously) makes a bed feel extra strange. I slept four nights in a cat-free bed, and it felt weird. I could almost hear a phantom purr, see a phantom sphynx shadow lurking above me, and feel a phantom wad of fur brushing against my arm. Then, when I awoke in the mornings, my initial reaction was wondering, "Why aren't my cats loving all over me, and pestering me for their breakfast?" Oh, right, I thought. I'm at my grandma's.

Yes, it is nice to get a break from even the best things in life - especially if they involve work, like pets. But still, when you're a cat lover - especially a Mother Catresa type who is surrounded by felines - catless days have a certain odd feeling about them.

I can't help but wonder: do my cats miss me as much as I miss them when I'm gone? Although cats aren't nearly as needy as dogs, and pet-sitters will take care of the cats' basic needs once a day, my kitties seem to be happy to see me every day when I come home from work. When I've been gone a few nights, then, they seem all the more eager. I can almost hear them yelling, "Mommy! Mommy!" as they run toward me after I open the door. They usually follow me back to my bedroom, where I'll plop down on the bed, and they all leap up and join me, one by one, for petting.

Of course, as anti-cat folks accuse, maybe they're just eager for food, and the cats are only pretending to like me to get some. But, I testify, their food dishes were full. Take that, dog people!

Sure, my cats miss me. In fact, as Boy George would say, I think they just might even "tumble" for me, just like I'd "tumble" for them. But I most certainly do the lion's share of the tumbling - out of bed, to shut their hungry and demanding mouths up in the morning.

Then, there is the tripping and Figure-8 routine in the kitchen. But that's another story. Read about it in my last post.

Happy Easter, everyone!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Mea Cat-Culpa - Well, Sort Of

2009-03-30T17:55:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

As a journalist, I learn so much about the world and its people - and, alas, about myself - through the stories I write. Since I write a lot of human-interest features about relationship issues, I often conduct interviews where I can honestly say, "Yeah, really. I hear you, sister! Don't you hate it when that happens? I know, guys like that are schmucks, aren't they?"

(Yes, there's a feline angle to this post; I'm getting there. Promise!)

Recently, I wrote a story about a topic on which I am passionate: the importance of apologizing sincerely and effectively, and how to teach your children how to do this, so that they can have successful relationships in the future. I was interviewing an author about this topic, and we discussed the non-apology: the charming "I'm sorry you got so upset," or "I'm sorry you thought I was a jerk." (In other words, an actual blame wrapped in hot pink, fake apology tissue). I am all too familiar with it, and it's hurtful.

When the author gave me tips on how to model the art of apologizing with kids, one of the things he suggested was setting an example with the family pets. "What do you mean?" I said. "Well," he replied, "like when you step on the dog's paw, tell Fido, 'I'm sorry.' "

Now, I definitely could relate to that one, and I told him so: just that very morning, in fact, I had stepped on my cat Dharma's paw. And I, the noble one, apologized loudly to her as she shrieked in discomfort!

And then, as I silently patted myself on the back while talking to my subject, it dawned on me: The hypocritical Mother Catresa, ever so disdainful of non-apologies, actually gave one to Dharma!

The grey and white tuxedo cat, see, was doing the feline Figure-8 routine in the kitchen; y'all who have cats surely are familiar with it. I had stepped into the kitchen for my morning Diet Coke, and the ravenous Dharma started encircling my moving legs in Figure-8 patterns, while she meowed and demanded that I feed her breakfast. Combine a drowsy head with walking legs and marathoning paws, and what happens? You step on the poor pet's foot. Ouch!

"Oh Dharma!" I said. "I'm so sorry I hurt you! Poor baby."

And then, came the disqualifying "But":

"But, darn it, will you quit running over my feet and between my legs when I'm walking?"

The translation, let's face it, is: "I'm so sorry you got hurt, but it was your own damn fault."

It's like saying the following to the pedestrian you've just hit: "My God, I am so sorry. Really, I am. I feel horrible! But geesh, nucklehead, what the hell were you thinking running in front of a moving car doing 70 on the Pennsylvania Turnpike?"

A sincere apology, the experts say, never includes a "but."

OK, so I did it. I felt bad for hurting Dharma's paw, but I gave her a lame non-apology. I admit my error, and I am truly sorry.

But ... Dharma, quit tripping your mom-mom, already!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Tinsel, Tooting and Chicken Looting

2009-02-20T21:22:00.000-08:00

We finally return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Catifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks,

Long time, no meow, huh? This is Mother Catresa's downtime, because it's the winter, and female cats aren't popping out kittens like gumballs; kitten season will begin in the spring. But I was hoping that maybe y'all missed me, even just a little, and that you would love a winter dose of MC cheer humor. (And if you don't - hey, that's OK. I don't need to know.)

And besides, I do have a kitten. Yes, a kitten! Not a real little one, but about a six-month-old teenager. She's a little redhead named Tinsel, and she's a welcome extension of Yuletide cheer during the dreary winter months. I got the orange tabby just before Christmas (hence the cute Yuletide name) and she's been staying in my kittens' room all by her lonesome ever since then. Tinsel, bless her heart, came into Animal Friends with some sort of unknown animal bite. So the poor dear, as a safety precaution, has to be quarantined until early March, to make sure she doesn't develop any disease. Her littermates got adopted a few months ago.

So anyway ... Tinsel! Get off my desk! (Push ... plop!)

Ahem, as I was saying ... Hey! Tinsel! Get off my keyboard! (Push ... plop!)

Can't you tell I'm now in the kittens' room - which, by the way, doubles as my office? Luckily, my computer is old, because the cord-loving kittens, who also love using my stuff as bowling pins, have banged it up a bit. It's hard to get any typing done up here, because ... Tinsel!! Little stinker, you're really being annoying now! (Push ... plop!)

Tinsel is a little sweetheart, affectionate and sweet, yet also quite impish and playful. I feel so bad for her having to be isolated up here, but I try to spend as much time with her as I can. And when she knows I'm home and downstairs, that loud one makes sure of it with her caterwauling. It's like she's bellowing, "What about me??? Get your bald ass up here this instant, mom!"

Aaah, the fiery, vocal, spirited redhead. Hey, does that sound like someone else you know? I'm just saying.

Well now ... eeew, pew. I smell kitten gas! At least she's on the lower level of my desk, and not by the keyboard, right in my face. Incidentally, for no particular reason, I have been calling her "Tinsel Toot." I think it's cute. (Hey, that rhymes!)

It looks like Tinsel has ... er, pooped out now; she's lying down on the other side of the room, purring. Ok, now I can have some peace and quiet, and type uninterrupted. Too bad this blog entry is almost done.

Tinsel isn't the only mischievous cat around here. I took a break from writing and went downstairs a few minutes ago, because I realized that I had left on the couch a bag with leftovers from my chicken dinner. I panicked; biiiig mistake! See, one of my cats, Rum Tum, is the feline world's most notorious chicken bandit. He has been known to dig chicken bones out from the bottom of the kitchen trash if there remains even a fraction of a scrap of meat. Sure enough, after just a few minutes home, I found shredded chicken and tinfoil all over the floor. Ugh! There goes tomorrow's dinner.

I'd better sign off and go back downstairs. MC has some cleaning up to do. But I'll take chicken scraps over the litter box any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

UC-Pittsburgh, Class of 2008

2008-12-30T10:11:00.000-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeere's your hostess, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Catifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I'm Mother Catresa. And I approve this message.

Here's the news flash from our anchor, Anita Kittykiss:

"In the year 2008, Mother Catresa, otherwise known as the Patron Saint of Homeless Felines, rescued a total of 29 felines at her sanctuary, the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh. And what did her opponents, the irresponsible cat owners, do? They dumped them for convenience, or were otherwise negligent or abusive. Shame, shame, shame. Vote Mother Catresa for secretary of animal welfare!"

Alright, just sort of kidding. You can tell we're wrapping up an election year, huh?

But seriously, 29 is the grand total I counted. Following is the roster of UC-Pittsburgh's graduating class of 2008:

The Texas kittens: Dallas, Sue Ellen, Austin and Elise
The EMMM kittens: Eeenie, Meenie, Minie and Moe
The serial killers: Jeffrey, Ted, Hanny and Lizzy
The game kittens: Uno, Clue, Boggle and Scrabble (though, they were so antisocial that it wasn't exactly a successful full rescue)
The ice cream kittens: Spumoni, Neopalitan, Rocky Road, Cookie Dough and Butter Pecan
The "R" kittens: Rebecca and Radcliffe
The "L"/Peanuts kittens: Linus, Lucy and Lori (what happened with them? I'll tell you later).
The lone Christmas kitten: Tinsel, an orange tabby girl currently with me and staying awhile (again, more later).
Plus, the two returning adult alumni: Darius, who got adopted recently, and Rachael Ray, whose shmucky owner just returned her to the shelter for a frivolous reason. Poor baby! More later.

Hey, did you hear that? I think it's that anthem called "Pomp and Circumstance!"

Mother Catresa wishes her departing graduates all the best and happiness in life, and sends them off with oodles of love. And, should their homes not work out, Mama C will be there to care for them again. UC-Pittsburgh has a wonderful, devoted alumni club!

Here's to a happy 2009 for all of us, including you and yours. These are tough times we're in, but I saw the Broadway play "Annie" last week, and I am reminded by the adorable orphan's optimism: "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you're always a day away."

And for those kitties who will live the hard-knock life in 2009, Mother Catresa looks forward to rescuing them and caring for them in a loving "orphanage," where she cares a lot more than a smidge. No Miss Hannigans here!

Happy New Year, everyone!

Yours,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

A Charlie Brown Cats-mas

2008-12-02T13:49:00.000-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

I just returned from a lovely Thanksgiving visit with my dearest friends - all of whom, incidentally, are dog people but devoted MC fans - in my old stomping grounds, Dallas. Before I left, I returned kitten siblings Rebecca and Radcliff, who were snatched up like discounted plasma TVs at Wal-Mart on Black Friday. I thought I would be returning to a quiet, kittenless winter at home with my own three cats. But no - the kitten fairy has visited Mother Catresa for another encore, and apparently, she likes the Peanuts!

I contacted the shelter today, and said I'd be ready for kittens, if by chance there are any, or an adult foster cat by this weekend. Wouldn't you know it, they have three babies waiting just for me, and their names are Linus, Lucy and Lori. I don't know where the Lori came from, but Linus and Lucy - ah, some of my favorite cartoon characters! I have that Peanuts tune running through my head, along with that hilarious "Wah-WAH-Wah-Wah" sound that the cartoon uses whenever an adult speaks.

It's perfect timing for a Peanuts litter, since we're in the midst of the holiday classic specials. Actually, I'll probably be watching "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving," belatedly, and "A Charlie Brown Christmas" this week, and it will be all the more fun with these new furry kids around. I say this litter begs for a sequel, even if it has to wait until spring, with these kittens: Charlie Brown, Sally, Pigpen, Schroeder, Snoopy, Woodstock, Peppermint Patty and Marcie.

Meanwhile, Butter "Butthead" Pecan from the ice cream litter finally has been adopted, as have Darius and Rachael Ray (my two alumni who returned to me as adult fosters). I was on the verge of adopting Darius, whom I had nicknamed "Spider-Cat" for his manic, fly-through-the-room ways, and "King Darius of Purrsia." He is, after all, the kitten of my very own Dharma, one of my cats. But a sentimental reunion it was not; Dharma, either oblivious or unconcerned that this was her son, gave that precocious stinker a good butt-whipping whenever he approached her. And Rum Tum Tugger, bless his elderly heart, spent much of his time hiding under my bed during Darius' reign of terror. It took my senior Rum Tum awhile to fully come out from his shell once Darius had left. It's like he was tip-toeing around, wondering whether the coast was clear and free from Hurricane Darius.

I miss that handsome tuxedoed cat, but I know it's for the best that he be in another home. Rum Tum deserves to spend his golden years in peace. That laid-back, sweet little orange tabby has been such a trooper. First, he loses his lifelong companion, Buster, last Halloween. Then, within a few months, two sassy young females move in. When the hyperactive Darius - who spent a few hours each day with the run of the house - came along, poor old Rum Tum had had enough.

"Oh, Mooooom," I could hear him plead. "Say it ain't so!"

When, Rum Tum thought, are you going to stop doing this to me?

Consider it over, my furry friend. You are safe now, except for those bossy females who might bug you sometimes.

I will write again soon about the Peanuts kittens. I pick up those blockheads on Saturday, and oh, I can't wait!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Catch me, I'm falling (off the wagon)!

2008-11-10T07:44:00.000-08:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

My name is Kellie. And I'm still a kitten-aholic. And this weekend, I relapsed.

OK, now you really need to say it: "Hi Kellie!"

No, don't worry, I'm not hitting the booze or the cigarettes again. But I have fallen off the cat-caine wagon, since I brought home two new, adorable, sweet kittens on Friday! It was a delightful encore after what I thought was my kitten season finale. These beautiful babies - Rebecca and Radcliff, a sister-and-brother, black-and-grey-tabby combo - needed a place to go as they recover from an upper respiratory infection, though they have recovered from most of it. They also need to gain some weight as they await their spay-neuter surgery. Their old foster mother didn't want them back, because they were so lovable that she thought she was getting too attached. I definitely can see why.

Rebecca has the standard mackerel tabby pattern, which has small stripes all over. Radcliff has a classic pattern, which is peculiarly named because the coloring is more rare. He has black and grey swirls around his body, like a marble cake. It's as if someone took a spatula, stuck it in two batters of fur colors, and twirled it around. Both kittens are very affectionate, eager for attention, playful and full of energy. Yes, I am a smitten kitten already.

Radcliff and Rebecca are just the fix I need before I enter the long, dreary period of kitten-less winter sobriety. So, I'm going to love them to pieces, and enjoy every minute of it.

Regarding the title of this post - "Catch me, I'm falling (off the wagon)!" - on second thought, don't. I'm doing just fine, thanks. :)

Meanwhile, Darius - my long-term, boomerang, manic adult foster whom I started calling "King Darius of Purrsia" - and Rachael Ray, another sweet boomerang from last year, have returned to the shelter and are on the adoption floor. I really miss them, especially Darius, since I had him for a few months. But I know it's for the best. G.G. may miss the big oaf, but Rum Tum and Dharma certainly don't. Grandpa Rum Tum, my senior cat, is just now starting to come out from hiding under my bed, where he spent most of his time whenever Hurricane Darius was on the loose. I think R.T. is now confident that the coast is clear.

I am praying for all of my kids at the shelter - including Butter "Butthead" Pecan, the buff-colored kitten from my last litter - that the purrfect home soon comes along. Believing friends, won't you join me please?

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

"Yum-O! Delish! Pass the EVOO!"

2008-10-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

To all of you culinary enthusiasts out there like me, you'll recognize this post's title and say, "Ah, yes - Rachael Ray!"

And how, you ask, does this pertain to kittens? Rachael Ray is not only a celebrity chef, but a boomerang kitten (now adult) from one of last year's litters who moved back to Mother Catresa's sanctuary this week for a temporary refuge. She joins Darius, who is cooling his white heels in the next-door upstairs room, as my second foster child to move back home after being adopted out. These two alumni from MC's Class of 2007 have fallen on hard times, and Mom-Mom is here to help, and keep them from languishing in a back-room shelter cage for a long period, as they await a space on the adoption floor. Then, with kittens as competition, they may wait an awful lot longer.

And besides, this kitten-aholic is having kitten withdrawals, as I wrote about in my last post. Having my grown babies come home again helps me through detox! (Can I have a sobriety chip?)

Rachael Ray - a stunningly beautiful, long-haired tortoiseshell who is very sweet and friendly - faced a cat in her adoptive home who, even after a year, just wouldn't accept her. So, the poor dear - barely a year old - lost her home and came back to the shelter. Her life is just beginning, but once the babyness of kittenhood wears off, felines become adult cats in adopters' eyes, and usually don't go home nearly as quickly as their baby counterparts. Sadly, cats are often seen as yesterday's newspapers, once that very brief baby phase passes. Still, Rachael Ray is so beautiful and nice, that I think she won't wait long once she leaves my home again.

Miss RR, being the glamorous and sophisticated lady that she is, has brought a lot of joy to my life in the few days I've had her; I think I'm even minding my cooking skills more, so I make more "delish" foods! Ha! I think she is thrilled to have a spacious room to herself, even though she's isolated up there most of the day. It sure beats a holding cage in the back room.

Rachael Ray came from a litter of five kittens - MC's second foster litter ever - with chef names. There were three males - Flay, Puck and Emeril - and a seemingly twin tortie sister, Clemmy. I had them this time last year. I wonder if she has any memory of me, her room, and her littermates at all? I hope so; it should make our bond and her stay more meaningful and comforting to her.

So, I now have my own three cats, plus two more upstairs, for a grand total of five. But don't you dare raise those eyebrows too high - during kitten season, the feline population under my roof can reach double digits!

And by the way, for the record, I like Rachael Ray the chef, as well as the cat. What is the deal with all those RR haters out there? If you're reading this, take this: "Get over yourself!"

Altogether now: Yum-O!!!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Jonesin' for cat-caine

2008-10-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeeere's your hostess - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

My name is Kellie. And I'm a kitten-aholic.

Alright, go ahead and say it. You know you want to. "Hi, Kellie!"

My last kitten was four days ago, and I'm jonesing, big time. But, one day at a time, right? And hey, doesn't that qualify me for some kind of sobriety chip?

Butter "Butthead" Pecan came around rather quickly and went back to the shelter on Sunday. Much to my sadness, I've been told that I've probably fostered the last of this year's kittens. Not only are we on the "tail" end of kitten season, but we are so full, that unless the humane department brings new ones in, we're probably done.

Sniff, sniff. And crave, crave. I'm having kitten withdrawals. It is nice to take a break every now and then - I can get more stuff done - but, I sure miss having those sweet, playful and cuddly furballs around the house. They are a natural buzz and high. And I need a cocaine - er, cat-caine - fix, now! I admit it: I'm a full-blown kitten junkie.

As many of my readers and friends know, I have struggled with addictions throughout my life, the worst and most treacherous of which were alcohol and nicotine. I am happy to say that both of those things are in the past, though it's still a stuggle sometimes. I definitely have an addictive personality, and I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. So long as it's a healthy addiction, like kittens, and it doesn't overtake and eclipse everything else in your life by going to extremes, why not enjoy being really into and passionate about something?

Still, something tells me that I should start a 12-step program for kitten addiction. Let Mother Catresa ponder this one, and follow up with a later post.

And just like there's "near-beer" - like my non-alcoholic O'Doul's - do you think there's a non-kitten-aholic kitten substitute?

I don't know. But, as they said in those AA meetings I used to attend, "With that, I'll pass."

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Butthead Pecan

2008-10-09T13:06:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

My boy is baaaaaack - that little stinker from my ice cream litter, Butter Pecan. "Butthead Pecan," as I'm now calling him, needs some remedial socialization courses, unlike his friendly littermates, who will probably be on the adoption floor at Animal Friends by the end of today. He still hisses, spits and runs from me.

Yet, just like my Gormly Girl (G.G.) - my namesake kitten who came to me last December, and I ended up adopting - once the littermates were gone and the kitty had no felines to cling to, there was an immediate improvement. He must be desperately lonely for his fellow kittens - that BP actually cracked a purr, for the very first time, in my arms last night! What d'ya know? And, Butthead Pecan is quite happy to romp and play if you have a cat teaser toy. But the problem with him is, if you approach him to touch him, he hisses and takes off, and zips around the room like an annoying fly. And he is darn hard to catch - I think, from all the rushing, bending and crawling, I'm going to end up with an orthopedic injury!

I plan to spend intensive time every day with BP for the next week or so, and hopefully, I'll get him to the point where he actually comes to me for petting. At this point, though, I'd be happy if he just stopped fleeing me when I reach out to him.

Every time Butthead Pecan gives me cat-titude and hisses, I groan and say something like, "Oh, we're back to that again, are we? Listen, buddy, the longer you keep this up, the longer you're stuck here with me!"

As if he understood, right? If only I could explain things to them. Maybe he gets the idea from my tone, who knows?

Now, as I've said before, I seem to see kitten-related analogies and connections in everything - and I experienced the perfect example yesterday when I went out on an assignment to write a story about Sugar & Spice Ice Cream Parlour. It's a cute, '50s-style, retro soda fountain and ice cream parlour. (Ice cream? I'm seeing a very current kitten connection already, aren't you?)

I sat down with the owners, a twin brother-and-sister duo, and asked them to name some of their customers' favorite flavors out of the 100-plus homemade hard ice cream flavors they make. Some of the top five were - no kidding - Butter Pecan and Cookie Dough!!! Ah, the two males in my litter.

"Oh, I've just got to tell you this story," I said, grinning. The owners eyed me curiously, wondering what was coming next.

"I foster kittens for an animal shelter," I said. They looked at me with intrigued expressions that said, "And you're telling me this because ....?)"

"Oh, there's an ice cream connection, see," I said. "All of the kittens had ice cream names - and two were named after your top flavors - Cookie Dough and Butter Pecan!"

How sweet, they said.

Yes, it sure was.

I sampled some of their favorite Ho-Ho ice cream before I left, and it was delicious. It got me thinking: how about a Hostess litter of kittens? With a Ho-Ho, Ding-Dong, Twinkie, Suzy Q, Donette and Sno Ball?

Shelter staff - are you listening? That's food for thought.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Sweet treats, sweet hearts and stinky butts

2008-10-06T11:44:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeere's your hostess - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Sadly, my ice cream feast is coming to an end. Tonight, when I get home from work, I am packing up my five darling ice cream kittens and taking them back to the shelter, where they will be spayed and neutered on Tuesday. But I get one of them back for awhile - Butter Pecan, the one who doesn't like people very much. He is returning to me for a remedial socialization course, until he's adoptable.

Neopalitan and Spumoni - the two long-haired, poofy girls - are friendly, bubbly little things. So is Rocky Road, the gray and white shorthair who looks like my cat Dharma. And Cookie Dough - aaaawww, that sweet little angel. He is very shy, but when you pick him up, he just melts into your arms and snoozes and cuddles like a little cherub. The little orangey-buff shorthaired kitty is just so gentle and cuddly.

And then, good 'ole Butter Pecan. This guy needs a lot of work, and now, he'll be stuck with just me, sans littermates, until he comes around. He is another orangey-buff male who hisses and runs when you approach him, and squirms like crazy if you actually catch him. I have some battle scars on my hands from trying to medicate him. But interestingly, once I have him firmly scruffed and subdued, he actually stills, and dozes in my arms for awhile. The poor thing is probably exhausted from putting up such a fight in trying to flee me. When he wakes up from his little nap, he looks up at me with an "Aaaaack! You!" look on his face, and splits in a huff.

Please pray that Mother Catresa can turn this little stinker around into an adoptable kitty.

On another note, I have solved the mystery of the feline butt-bombing phenomenon that I blogged about in my last post ("Doin' the Butt ..."). One of the shelter staffers put it to me this way: "Did you not know that offering one's bum means 'I love you' in kitty-ese?"

Um, no, I didn't, but I do now. And that makes sense. These things often happen during a petting session, after all.

"It's one of the finer pleasures in life," the worker continued facetiously, as we both laughed.

Well, I guess life is all a matter of perception, and how you look at it, right? Funny, though - that nasty thing shoved in front of my face still looks and smells an awful lot like a plain, simple cat butt.

Still, I must be touched and flattered by this expression of affection. It's also an act of "Hello, it's me!" feline marking, since cats have pheromone-filled glands back there. But they don't do that, apparently, if they don't dig you.

So, I'll say it: Thank you, Dharma, Rum-Tum and G.G., for exposing your intimate selves to me, and expressing your undying affection for your mom-mom.

I love you, too.

And I'm darn tootin' glad you're not human. You couldn't even pull that one off at a bar.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saints of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

"Doin' the Butt" - Hey! NOT sexy, sexy, sexy ... (as the song goes)

2008-09-30T10:43:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

Loyal readers have asked, "Where, oh where, have you been, Mama C? Write another chronicle, already!"

I am so swamped right now at work that I haven't had much time in the past few weeks to write, outside of my newspaper articles. But I will soon, regarding the ice cream kittens. (In a nutshell, all is pretty much well, four out of five are heart-meltingly sweet, and one's a hissy-spitty stinker that needs a lot of work.)

More later. Meanwhile, by popular request, I am printing a famous back issue of Mother Catresa's Chronicle in its pre-web site days, when it was just an e-mail to a few friends (and many new readers never got this one). This essay - about feline gluteus maximuses - got more laughs than any other, and any cat person can appreciate it. Or, I suppose dog people could, too, because they can pause and say, "Phew! My pooch may be gross sometimes, but at least it doesn't do that!"

Enjoy.

- MC

******************

Dear friends,

OK, now, I've always wanted to know: what is the deal with cat butts?

No, seriously, this is for real. What is it about cats and their butts, and this penchant they have for aiming said butts at you?

Now, any of y'all who have cats probably know exactly what I'm talking about, and are laughing in recognition as you read this. For you unfortunate dog folks who never find themselves on the receiving end of an animal fanny, at point-blank range, let me explain this feline peculiarity. Cats, for some reason, often turn around when they are sitting on your chest or lap, so that your view of their sweet little faces abruptly becomes that of not-so-sweet posterior ends. And they make sure you get a close-up, proctological view: they often seem to make a point of leaning backward, or lifting their tail, just to make sure you don't miss the spectacle, and you get a good whiff.

If these butt-flashing cats were humans, I would think two things: one, I'm being mooned, or two, they're saying "Kiss my ass." Yet, strangely, the cat's body language doesn't seem nearly so obnoxious or hostile, so I don't think that's the case. In fact, the butt-in-face incidents often happen during moments of affection, where the cat is cuddling with you on your chest, purring, and massaging you with its paws. It's blissful, and then - Boom! Butt! (Blech!)

So, what exactly is your cat saying when it drops the butt bomb? Who knows? Maybe it's the cat's way of saying, "I'm so cozy and comfortable with you." Aaawww, ain't it sweet?

Dharma, one of my cats, is a world-class butt bomber - she does it far more than my other cats, Rum Rum and G.G., ever do (and thank heavens for that, because of G.G.'s toxic fumes!) It seems like every time I lie down on the couch, Dharma jumps up, starts her massaging, and then abruptly does an ... about-face, I suppose. Much to my dismay, I find my nose within a few inches of her heiney, which looks pretty darned threatening when you're pinned down on the couch by a hefty, stubborn cat.

"Dharma!" I groan. "Get your butt out of my face!"

I try manually turning her around, or at least adjusting her angle a bit so my face is not in the direct line of fire. It takes a lot of wrestling, though - and even after moving her, so that her much-cuter face is before me, she often reverts right back to the undesirable position.

Now, I can tolerate this annoyance to a point - but, if it happens during a great TV show (especially my Sunday night "Cold Case"), and her derriere is blocking my view, that's it: I push her off the couch.

Luckily, I have been safe in my bed, and have yet to wake up in point-blank range of an exposed cat butt ... but never say never. Now, that would be a rude awakening!

Yours,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

I Scream for Ice Cream!

2008-09-09T19:32:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Dairy products again, Kellie? What's up with that? Did you get a mint chocolate chip cone confiscated at the airport this time? Nope.

Here's the scoop: I just brought home five tiny little 5-week-old kittens, and they all have ice cream names! How sweet and yummy for the final hurrah of the summer ice cream season. And best of all, these guys - save for a few minor hisses from the two shy males - are relatively friendly, and non-feral. I've even felt a few vibrations on my chest from tiny little purr machines!

The roster: Neopalitan, who is a poofy, orangeish-buff colored longhaired female. She is just sweet and adorable, and looks like a little butterscotch cream puff! Then, there's Spumoni, an equally poofy, long-haired blue cream tortie female. Rocky Road is a dark grey, short-haired female with a few white spots. Butter Pecan and Cookie Dough are orangeish-buff tabby shorthair males.

Are you hungry yet?

I've been devouring these guys with kisses and squeezes, and I think I'll take this perfect excuse to treat myself tomorrow to a big, hearty ice cream cone. That is, if the aroma of kitten poop wafting in the background as I write this doesn't spoil my appetite. As with many strays, these kittens are what I call "shittens" - get my, pee-yew, drift? I'll need to give them meds every day - all a labor of love, of course.

In other news, Rachael Ray - one of my kittens from last year's "chef" litter - returned to the shelter, apparently because the owner's other cat dissed her. Miss Rachael "Yum-O" is a stunningly beautiful, long-haired tortie, and she was very loving and friendly when I stopped by to see her today. I don't know if she actually remembers her "Mom-Mom," because she's a sweet kitty with everyone. She will probably go up for adoption at a PetsMart.

It's such a trip to see your once-tiny kitten all grown up as a huge cat! That's how I felt with Darius, too - remember, my cat, Dharma's, grown kitten, who also got returned to the shelter? I brought him home last month as a foster, and that big doofus is still here. Some of my friends have a theory about where this is going. Don't ask.

Bringing home these sweet ice cream cones was such a booster for me. I had a terrible bout with bronchitis this past week and am still recovering - and thanks to my family and friends who called to check on me and send "get well" wishes - but I had to return to work today. And it was quite a day indeed: some weird old guy who called me to be interviewed for an article told me that my voice (probably husky, mind you, from my illness) is so sexy that I should be a phone sex operator. But that's another story.

I couldn't help but think: 1-900-SEX KITTEN. And chuckle. And blush.

Purrrrr ...

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

P.S. Unless you're a Pittsburgh-area friend who has boycotted my house, lest you be too tempted to adopt (and you know who you are, hehe), there is always an open invitation to Mother Catresa's home to see the kittens. So go ahead and ask me. We'll make plans.

You can't win them all

2008-09-03T09:58:00.000-07:00

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Call in the Marines! A cherry Activia has been spotted at Pittsburgh International Airport!

Well, I didn't actually get nabbed by a few good men last week, when I embarked on a journey to Newport, Rhode Island, for a wonderful vacation with my sister, Kirsten. But I did get my sealed, unopened yogurt confiscated at the security lines. I was both miffed and amused. I understand that there are airport security rules designed to keep us all safe, and I happily abide by them. But terrorism by yogurt? Really, guys - isn't that a little far-fetched? Then again, so was shoe-bombing ...

Wait, didn't I say that KITT-FM is all kittens, all the time? Well, you know, they do say not to feed kittens dairy products, come to think of it.

Anyway, back to the blog's subject matter - kittens!

In the week before I left for vacation, I took in the most difficult litter of kittens I've ever had. The so-called serial killers - mild hissers, spitters and hiders - were a kitty breeze and picnic compared to these kittens, whose names came from the "game" group on my 15-plus-page document of suggested names and themes for litters. There was a big, long-haired, white and black female named Uno. Then, there was a gray and white, medium-haired male named Scrabble, and two small, black-and-white tuxedoed, female shorthairs named Boggle and Clue.

Boggle, Scrabble and Clue (the sweetest one) seemed very scared and un-socialized, and hid constantly behind my computer, practically on top of each other. When I approached them, they would hiss and run, but when I caught them and scruffed them by the neck, they would let me hold and pet them for awhile. As for Uno? Well, she wasn't just shy - she was hostile, and it scared me. The second I walked in the room, before I even approached her, she would literally erupt into a hissy fit, when she would hiss and growl constantly for minutes, like a wild animal. When she wasn't hiding behind the computer, Uno would often perch on my window sill like it was a ruler's throne. When I came close, which I had to in order to fill the food and water bowls, she had the stance of a coiled-up rattlesnake about to strike. Eeeek! Pass the motorcycle helmet; I like my eyesight and intact face.

I tried, but I wasn't able to make much progress with these kittens for the short time I had them. I feel like I failed in a way, and I'm sad that, if they don't come around, our only option will be to turn them over to a feral life, now that they're fixed. But, they have gone to another foster home, where hopefully, they can get some behavioral ICU and be turned into lovable pets. I have hope, but it will take lots of time, patience and TLC. Who knows? Cats can be funny about certain people, and maybe they just didn't like me. Even Mother Catresa can be rejected by homeless kitties.

Please keep these kittens in your thoughts and prayers - that Clue, Boggle, Scrabble and especially Uno can become socialized and adoptable.

So, you see, kittens are not all fun, cuddles, and, yes, "games" - even when they have names like that. Sometimes, it is a huge challenge for the foster to love feral kittens, who don't want anything to do with you, into love-bundles. But when a kitten does come around, it is often very lovable (like G.G., one of my own kitties). And it is so rewarding and fulfilling to watch it happen. Unfortunately, though, I lost this "game."

May the new foster mama win the game, and experience that joy and satisfaction.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

The Cereal Killers

2008-08-19T12:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks,

I am happy to report, although bittersweetly, that I have completed my month-plus-long fostering of the kittens that came to me as "the serial killers" - and, I survived without a single stab or gunshot wound! I do have, however, many of the token, tiny kitten scratches on my legs as souvenirs. And I have a permanent mark on my heart.

The killers - so named because they were borderline feral, and bit a shelter worker when they first got in - have been reformed at Mother Catresa's Neville Island Sanctuary, where they paid their debt to society and became well-socialized. Now, Jeffrey, Ted and Lizzy (as in Dahmer, Bundy and Borden), await their forever homes at Animal Friends. To see pictures of them, go to http://www.thinkingoutsidethecage.org/site/PageServer?pagename=Animals_Cats, and go to the sixth page of the cat listings, where my three babies are listed consecutively (and if it's fewer than three, that's good news - it means they just got adopted). Trust me, these kittens are far too sweet to live up to their names!

Their littermate, Hanny (as in Hannibal Lecter) already got snapped up this weekend. He's the sweet little white guy with big black splotches, who looks like a dairy cow. He is just adorable and sweet, and I started calling him Hair-i-ball, or Hairy Hanny, because of the way he loved to play with hair. Either on me or guests, he would swat at hair, get tangled in it, and chew on it. It was funny to watch, and actually felt good when it was my hair Hanny was after. For a cannibal, Hanny sure was a darling kitty.

When I first got these kittens, I vowed to transform them from serial killers into simple "cereal killers" - as in, felines who love to devour the dry food kibble.

That they do, indeed. They love to feed. So now, someone special adopt my babies, I plead!

That makes me sound like Dr. Seuss, hehe.

But for now, I will simply be,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

You'll Always Be My Kitten

2008-08-11T15:23:00.001-07:00

Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

You regularly hear all about the ongoing kitten comedy and drama in my life. But have I ever told you the deeply personal, heartfelt story about my "kitten song?"

I shared this story a few weeks ago with country music superstar Sara Evans, who sings said song: the powerful ballad "You'll Always Be My Baby." Now, I will share it with my readers. You may think it's corny, and perhaps it is a bit so, but for me, it's dear to my heart. So, please don't laugh - at least, within my earshot. :)

I interviewed Sara last month, as a preview to Downtown Pittsburgh's annual Dollar Bank Jamboree, for which she was the headliner. I had a strict time limit of 15 minutes on the phone with her, as she had back-to-back interviews that day. This limited my usual chit-chat time with the celebrity, and forced me to stick pretty closely to the business at hand. I did tell her, though, that I'm a big fan of hers, and that I have a personal story connected to so many of her songs, like the inspiring "Born to Fly," and the coming-of-age smash "Suds in the Bucket." And then, there's "You'll Always Be My Baby" - now, that's quite the story. I had a feeling she would never have heard this one before, with the kitten factor.

"I'm sure you hear anecdotes about your songs all the time," I told Sara.

"Yes, I do - but it never gets old," she replied.

I told her that we had no time for me to share those stories with her - and, frankly, in the fishbowl that is my newsroom office, I felt too awkward anyway, given that my colleagues could hear me. So, I said, I will tell you in person at the show's meet and greet.

And then, a week later, the moment arrived: the long-awaited meet and greet with one of my favorite singers of all time. I talk to celebrities regularly in my job as an entertainment writer, but I still feel star-struck at times - and this was one of them.

I groaned when I went backstage, and saw the huge line of some 50 fans waiting to meet Sara, whose tour managers were instructing us to make it speedy, get just a quick snapshot and autograph, and then be on our way. No, I thought! No, I have to tell her my kitten song story. I have to! So, I put myself at the very back of the line, so I could steal a few more moments with her. Whenever more people would come in, I would let them go ahead, then go to the back of the line again.

Finally, I made it up to Sara. I told her who I was, hugged her, told her the show was outstanding, handed her my CD, and posed for a picture.

"Hey Sara!" I then said. "Remember how I told you I had stories to tell you about your songs? Well, I have one that I just gotta tell. Can you give me just one minute? Please?

"ONE minute," Sara said, grinning as she glanced at her watch as if she were timing me.

Alright, Kellie, what's the story about this kitten song already??? What on earth did you tell Sara??? Enough suspense!!!

"I foster kittens for an animal shelter, and it is so hard to let them go when it's time," I said. Sara's eyes softened with that tender, "aaawwww, how sweet" look people often get when I talk about the kittens.

"Before I take them back to the shelter, I hold them close to my heart, cradle them, and sing them a lyric from 'You'll Always Be My Baby.' It's so beautiful and maternal, and it says what I'm feeling so eloquently," I said, as my eyes misted.

Here is the lyric, which I recited for her:

"Whatever road you may be on,
Know you're never too far gone.
My love is there, wherever you may be ...
Just remember that you'll always be my baby."

"Ohhhh!" Sara said, visibly moved. "That's amazing! So sweet. Thanks so much for sharing that with me."

I looked up, and saw that someone was filming us. "Wait," I said, "what's this? Am I on camera? Gosh, I should have fixed my hair!"

As it turns out, her fan club manager was filming our interaction, and supposedly it may be posted on Sara's fan club Web site. I'll have to join, so I can see it.
"It's OK," Sara said. "You look beautiful."

What a sweetheart - especially given that I was ending a long, sticky day in the sun and probably looked pretty crappy.

I watched as Sara smiled warmly, said goodbye, turned, and strolled off to her tour bus with her new husband, Jay Barker - a former University of Alabama football hunk with gorgeous blue eyes, who I also got to meet.

Thank you, God, I thought. Thank you.

What an incredible experience. I will remember it for the rest of my life.

And I hope that, despite the thousands of fans Sara meets, that she, too, never forgets this one.

So there you have it - the story of my kitten song. You should buy Sara's album and listen to it sometime. It's a beauty.

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")

Just An Instrument

2008-08-05T12:55:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

"I CAME!" said a friendly female voice.

I had just arrived at Animal Friends for my Sunday afternoon cat-greeter shift, and was entering the front desk area when I heard those words. I turned to glance at the smiling woman, who looked familiar and seemed to be talking specifically to me. Do I know you, I thought? (Gosh, I hope it wasn't that "America's Most Wanted" episode I saw Saturday night ...)

"Remember? Bob Evans," said the woman, whose name is Jessica. "I waited on your table."

Bob Evans?? Oh, yes, now I remember! Indeed - last Sunday night, at the McKnight Road restaurant, with some friends. And yes, my waitress actually did come to Animal Friends to adopt a kitten I told her about!

Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit - people sometimes really do follow up on those "you should check it out" conversations with strangers!

As y'all know, the subject of kittens tends to come up very easily in conversations with me. (The election? That's like these two totally different kittens I have who hiss at each other. Relationship/emotional woes? Kitten therapy can work wonders. Iraq? Gee, it would be neat to have a litter of kittens with Arabic names. Gas prices? Well, foster a litter of kittens, so you won't want to leave the house anyway. American Idol? Gosh, if my kittens were auditioning, I think their song would be "Stray Cat Strut," or maybe "I Did It My Way." Constipation? Oh, if only my kittens had your problem ... just kidding.)

Yeah, yeah, you get the picture. And so it was when I was having dinner at this Bob Evans. I was chatting with the waitress, and somehow the subject of pets came up. She said she and her family wanted a female kitten. I said, "Oh, you should go to Animal Friends on Camp Horne Road. I just left there, and we have this litter of, like, six girls and one boy. And they all have these cool Africa names, like Zaire, Congo and Tripoli. Can you dig it?"

I didn't give it much mind, but there she was, a week later, with her hubby and two cute little kids. Sure enough, they took home an adorable tortoiseshell named Egypt. The little girls - both the human and kitten - looked so happy.

Oh, what a satisfying feeling it is to orchestrate a match like this! But, I'll give credit where credit's due: thank you, God, for putting us in the right place at the right time. Mother Catresa is just an instrument of the grand conductor.

Too bad I don't work on commission ...

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")