Sunday, May 29, 2011

DT Willer alias Hooney Ginger Tabby of My Heart





“What do you want for our 15th anniversary honey?” Mick looked at me attentively for my answer.

Not pausing to even take a breath I replied “I have always wanted an orange tabby….”(what I didn’t mention was that I’d always wanted a Ragdoll, Birman, Norweigian Forest cat, Abyssinian, Maine Coon cat….. are you getting the picture of why Mick sometimes, affectionately I hope, calls me “cat crazy”?) 

I heard then sputters and strange noises coming from the other side of the table where my hubby sat.

Fast forward a week…. “Honey, what would you REALLY like for our anniversary?”

“Hum, I think that would be an orange tabby…..”

“Do you really want another cat? I mean, isn’t three enough work?”

“I’d love to have a kitten to give these guys something to think about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, I am sure.”

“well, I guess you can keep your eyes open for an orange tabby…”

Now the sputtering and strange noises were coming from MY side of the table! I immediately called our “cat lady” who fostered as many as 30 or more kitties at a time. Lois didn’t have any orange kittens. I began to pray too because I didn’t know if one more feline was going to make the rest of the cats go “tilt”. We didn’t need accidents, spraying or anyone going outside the box.

Pretty soon there was an ad in the paper for kittens. They were for sale for $35 each and had their shots. The price of the kittens was going to help get the two mother cats to be spayed. I called, they had my orange tabby. 

We made arrangements to go see him and then the lady called back.

“Another family came and the lady is interested in the orange tabby. I have decided I will take offers and whoever makes the highest bid can have the kitten…..”

“Ah, I am sorry but I don’t think we want to get into a bidding war, thanks so much for calling.”

I was letdown to say the least. Then I began looking at my calendar – 2 months ahead there was a darling orange tabby on the June photo. I felt like that was what our kitty would look like – he was a dark cinnamon color and a tiny kitten. No more ads to answer. I ran around with my kitty carrier in the back of the truck for the next six weeks. Our anniversary was fast approaching and I decided to drop by the Humane Society.

There were kittens everywhere. None of them were orange. Oh, there was a long haired slightly buff colored one and it was lethargic and had matter in its eyes – definitely didn’t look healthy.

I was headed for my truck and the phone rang.

“Hi, is this Marijo, the one who wanted an orange tabby?”

“Ahh, yes, who is this?”

“This is Mary the one who had the orange tabby that you and that other family both wanted. I don’t even know how I still had your phone number but I found it on a slip of paper on the floor…. Do you still want an orange tabby?”

“Actually I was just at the Humane Society looking for one, why?”

“Well the lady brought her kids over, they just picked a black kitten and the orange tabby is available again. They are weaned and just turned 7 weeks old.”

“Where do you live?”

Turned out she was very close to the Humane Society. I buzzed over and got to meet the tiniest little kitten I had held in literally years. Most of our rescues had been ten weeks to 5-6 months old. This little stinker looked JUST like the orange boy on my calendar. He proceeded to climb up my shoulder and sit down. He had not a shy bone in his body – never mind that we were having major company that night for a bar-b-que dinner and I was nowhere near ready.

The check was written and, of course, I had the cage ready. Our vet was more than willing to do a quick exam and we were headed across town to our house.

I locked the little guy in our master bedroom and bath. The guests started arriving and were congregation on the patio – some of the cat lovers had gone up to peek at the new arrival. One friend was SO allergic to cats she couldn’t even come into the house…

About that time Mick arrived home. He was amazed that I found my calendar kitty and went upstairs to cautiously approach this new arrival. My ginger boy bounded across the bed jumping up on Mick, so much for cautious. This was the first clue we had that perhaps purchased a dog in cat’s skin.

When I was tiny I couldn’t pronounce the word “kitty” so I said DT. A pussy willow became DT Willer….soon that became the name of our little addition to the family.

He unmercifully attacked Stormy Blue during that time when the girls were still hissing and swatting. He’d bite Stormy’s tummy and ears and chase him all over the house, up and down 2 flights of stairs. Stormy was a smart kitty and would take only so much of this routine – when he needed a break he’d simply get DT in front of him and put both of his huge paws over the little wriggling mass of ginger fur.

DT was the first little kitten we had gotten and the biggest handful. At nine and a half he is still jumping onto the top of the frig, chewing toilet paper to the “bone”, loving anything with plastic wrapping and destroying it unless I am armed with a water squirter. He stretches out and rubs (dog-like) our legs or back sides if he wants a hand out, which is anytime we are near food.

He grew up and is now our very tall and long 16# handsome boy – yes, he got even bigger than Stormy whose current diet has him down from 17# to a mere 12 ½#.

We are coming up on our 25th anniversary this year and guess what is at the top of my wish list, a trip to Oregon to go camping just like we did on our honeymoon a quarter of a century ago, AND to rescue another kitten.

 (C) Marijo Phelps all rights reserved. Use with proper credits.


No comments: