My Rescue Cats

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I have two cats right now; both are rescues. Rook came to us two days after we lost our beloved Ginger cat, who died of a series of strokes. That is a story for another time. I was still grieving heavily, and could not cope with having a new cat. But a friend who works with Cat Rescue of Maryland called and told me about a five month old kitten - two, really - who needed a home. They were brother and sister. Initially, there were three kittens but all were ill and one didn't survive. She nursed these siblings back to health and they were now ready for adoption. Both had been fixed, and had their first set of shots. Knowing how lost my kids felt without a cat in the home, I gave in and told her to bring the male kitten over. Rook was terrified at first, and promptly hid under the dining room buffet. I left it to the kids to coax him out, while I did the necessary stuff such as put out food and set up the litter box. I couldn't bear to use Ginger's old feeding dishes and litter box so I purchased new ones. Naturally, as with all cats we've ever had, Rook attached himself to me. He was so scared the first week, growling at every sound made. My friend had dogs in her home; obviously, Rook learned to growl from them! My son named "Rook" after a chess piece, as Paul was getting really good at playing chess at the time. I wasn't ready to bond with another cat at the time. I cared for him, but didn't allow myself to get close. Then, a couple weeks after we had gotten him, I didn't find him one morning. Our cats are always indoor only; it's safest, especially with living in the city. I searched the whole apartment, upstairs, downstairs, then went to the lobby and the elevator. No Rook, anywhere. I called my husband at work and asked him if the cat got out when he left for work early that morning. John swore up and down that no, Rook had not gotten out. Yet I had a sinking feeling he did, and my husband just didn't see him slip by. The door my husband used opened into the basement of the building we lived in at the time. I went through the basement; no Rook. I walked up the stairs to the first floor lobby and met a neighbor. He offered to help, once he heard about Rook. The building had two sets of stairs leading up to the fifth floor and the roof, along with the elevator. When he and I were both on the second level, we heard a tiny tiny squeak. I ran up to the next level and there was Rook, huddled on a step, terrified. He saw me, and if a kitten can have a look of relief, Rook had one. I scooped him up, burying my face in his black and white fur. I carried him back down the stairs and into our first floor level front door, which opened into our kitchen. Rook scrambled down and immediately started eating his food, which we kept in the kitchen, as if he couldn't get enough. He then proceeded to explore the whole apartment, reassuring himself that he was back, safe, where he belonged....and I realized he did, indeed, belong. He was now "officially" our cat. Rook has been with us nearly five years now. He's my "bubby-boo". Ginger had been my "buddy" and "mittensy", so Rook needed his own nickname. He's still a somewhat nervous cat; as long as life is stable he's fine. We moved recently, and it was very unsettling for him. What helped the most was the newest rescue cat I took in a couple weeks before we moved. We lived at our old place nearly thirteen years, never expecting to move. The building was taken over by new owners who promptly kicked out all the tenants so they could renovate it and double the rents. I was lucky and found a house to rent with the opportunity to buy. This house was found about three weeks after getting our sixty day notice. What disturbed me most about having to move so suddenly was the feral cats in my neighborhood. A neighbor and I took turns feeding a small group of ferals, who were relatively tame. She fed in the mornings; I fed them at night. About three months before we got notice to move, a new kitten showed up with the ferals. He was little and grey striped, and terrified of people. I had to stand several feet away, almost out of sight, before he would emerge from under a car to go eat. He had "buddied up" with Muddy, an older, black long haired cat, who was very tame and gentle. Muddy's long fur constantly matted, and my friend and I would spend time each night trying to work the mats out, sometimes clipping them off when they were really bad. Muddy would allow this, never protesting the treatment. The kitten would rub against Muddy, almost constantly, as if claiming Muddy for his mother. Muddy would patiently tolerate it to a degree; when it got too much for him, he'd gently push the kitten away. This did not deter the kitten, who would come back and start all over again! One day, the kitten came over to me, put his paws on my knees, and looked up into my eyes. We bonded right then and there, and I promised him I would take care of him forever. After discussing this with my family, and coming up with a name for him, (Stormy Blue), I trapped him one night so I could take him to the SPCA for neutering, and shots. He spent the next week in our upstairs bathroom, getting used to us, and slowly getting to know Rook - who in turn exhibited every sign of jealousy he could! Once Stormy was let loose in the apartment, I'd hear the two cats running up and down the stairs together, chasing each other in turn. There were a lot of hissing fights between them. Then, we moved. Rook, as I said, was terrified. My daughter stayed in an upstairs bedroom with the cats and their food and a litter box during the move. She told me later Rook was so nervous he was shaking and breathing heavily. Then, Stormy Blue went over to him and started licking Rook all over. He snuggled next to Rook, calming him down. The next few days, he stayed by Rook's side, showing Rook what fun it was to explore a new place and get in to all the boxes. We've been here a little over two months now, and for both cats, it's home. They still rumble together at times, but it's more gentle now, more playful. And they still love to run up and down the stairs chasing each other. Stormy Blue is probably about a year old at this point; I never was sure of his age. He's got very soft soft fur, beautiful grey tabby. He's the friendly one, the greeter when people come in the house, while Rook runs to the upstairs bathroom, hiding in the closet on a heap of clean towels. Both cats love the living room window - big, low windowsill they can sit on and watch the cars and buses pass by. My Ginger cat is still in my heart and soul. Rook and Stormy Blue are new additions. There's always room for one more - the heart sees to that!