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")
Monday, January 17, 2011
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Stinker and Bum-Bum
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")
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")
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Acht! Das Katzpiss!
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")
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")
Monday, September 6, 2010
Chaz Bono, March 2010-Aug. 10, 2010
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
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
Friday, July 9, 2010
The Electromagnetic Air Bubble
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")
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")
Friday, July 2, 2010
Mother Catresa Goes A.W.O.L.
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")
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")
Monday, May 3, 2010
I Got You Babe
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")
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")
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