PinkFlamingoKitties: August 2008

MY STORY

Eight years ago on, September 8, 2000, my birth mother abandoned me. I was born 9 days earlier, on August 31. I don’t know where. My eyes were just starting to open, but all I could see was darkness. It was night-time. She was carrying me, and suddenly I was on very cold cement. I waited for a minute, but she di

d not come back. I cried and cried, but she never ever came back.

There I was just a little baby, all alone in the dark, crying, screaming for a mommy who never ever came back. I was terrified.

I was screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming, but mommy never came back to rescue me.

My “real” mommy had opened the door to the balcony on her condo. She heard me crying. In case you don’t know it, my mommy is a ‘sucker’ for lost kittens. She put on a jacket and got in her big, red, Durango and drove around looking for me.

She found me all alone on the cold cement floor in a deserted carport. My birth mommy was no where in sight. She picked me up and held me close. I was still crying and trembling. She held me to keep me warm as she drove back to what became my home. She wrapped me in a warm cloth and held me as she called Dr. Franklin. I was crying, very loud. He told mommy what to get to feed me. She took me with her in the big red Durango as she drove to the store, and carried me inside with her, as she bought powdered baby milk.

After we went back home, Clancy, a very nice miniature poodle who died a couple of years ago wanted to play with me. Siggy and Brunhilda were curious. My new mommy was very upset. She found a little tiny Igloo cooler and put warm towels in it. She taped a pencil on the top of the cooler so the lid would not completely close. That way I would be warm and have plenty of good air to breathe.

I was still crying.

She mixed the powdered kitty milk and fed me with a dropper. It didn’t taste good, but she forced me to drink a whole dropper of it. Dr. Franklin said if I did not eat it I would die. Just a little while ago she told me Dr. Franklin said he did not think I was going to live through the night.

After she fed me she put me in the warm ‘incubator’ where I still cried, but not

as loud. Finally I fell asleep. But, she woke me up again and made me eat again. Then she woke me up again and made me eat again.

The next time she woke me up one of my eyes opened. The light was strange. She made me eat, then she put me back in the incubator and we went in the big red Durango again. This time we went to see Dr. Franklin. He told mommy most of the time when birth mothers run off and leave babies like me, it is because there is something wrong with us. He told her he did not think I was going to live. I did not want to drink out of a bottle.

All day Dr. Franklin and his friends forced me to drink. The powdered kitty milk made me very sick and I nearly died, again. But, by late in the afternoon I was ready to go back to my new home.

Mommy was having a big party. She picked me up in the big red Durango and made sure that Clancy did not bother me. We drove to Grandmother’s house for the party. Later that night, my

god-mother Lisa came home with mommy because mommy was upset about her friend who ruined the party. Lisa fed me a couple of times that night, then left. I think I met her maybe once or twice again, but that was it.

And so we fell into a routine. Mommy would feed me every three hours at first. I did not know that mommy cats would like the bottoms of babies because we did not potty. Even as a tiny baby the process we used to potty was humiliating. Mommy would take warm q-tips and dampen them and make me potty. It was not fun. As I got bigger she would stick my tushie under the water. I would scream and scratch her. It is a wonder I do not have a phobia about water.

Finally, one day she let me come out of the incubator to play. I wasn’t very big. Siggy and Brunhilda were curious about me, but not all that interested. Mommy would hold me and feed me with a bottle. Then she would let me go to sleep on her arm while she typed on her computer. I still like doing this, but mommy says now that I weigh nearly 20 pounds I am too heavy to hold for very long. I still help her type. It is my favorite place, my mommy time.

One day mommy’s friend came to visit. They had an argument and I wanted to play with him. He threw me on the floor. Mommy got mad and told him he and to leave and never to come back. If he could not be nice to a baby kitten then she did not want …well, I think there was more to it than that, but you know how little kids are. We blame ourselves for everything.

When I was about 5 weeks old, mommy discovered that my birth mommy was now living in our carport with three of my siblings. She was able to catch my brother who found a nice family. It took her three days to catch GeorgieW. My other sister got away, but would come back to live in the carport. Grand-mommy-cat, Mommy Cat’s mommy is her descendent, so everyone here is related except for Bubbles and that stupid poodle, Rumsfeld.

GeorgieW did not want to live. She was going to die. Siggy adopted her and she started getting beautiful and strong, but she was never as big and strong as me. She died two years ago. I still miss her very much.

When I was a baby, mommy first named me Beverly Sills because of my loud voice. But Dr. Franklin said I was a little boy. Mommy decided I needed a name that would make people be afraid of me because I was so little and fragile so she named me Doc Holiday. Dr. Franklin was wrong. I am a girl.

And so life went on, happily. Then in February 2005 Clancy suddenly died. A few weeks later Siggy died of old age. Our family started to change, for the worst. A few days after Clancy died

cat-astrophe struck my happy home. Mommy adopted Ronald Rumsfeld Reagan Reidhead. Life has never been the same. I do admit I stay up sometimes thinking of ways to get rid of the little monster.

Later, in August, mommy rescued two more kittens. It became my responsibility to care for Mommy Cat (we had no name for her then) and Demon Cat. I will admit Demon Cat was my favorite. He and I were buddies, but he had some very bad habits. He also wasn’t a nice kitty. He now lives in San Patricio in a barn where he catches pigeons and has a very good life. Mommy Cat had

babies. Then Brunhilda died. Our family now consists of Mommy Cat, Little Joe Cartwright, Bat Masterson, Bubbles (who is still a kitten) monster dog, and moi. We have a new addition, Hoss Cartwright, who was born on July 1. He's a cute little thing, but I don't think he's going to make it. But then, no one thought Bubbles was going to live, but she's now bigger than I am!

Now I am a mature adult. I am a well adjusted person, but there are many times when I stop and wonder why my birth mommy abandoned me. Did she really leave me there to die or did something scare her? I always tell myself it was the latter, but at night, when even Rumsfeld is quite, thoughts that I was not good enough come back to haunt me.

Then I realize, wait a minute. I'm Doc Holiday. I have the best life in the world. If my "birth mommy" was stupid enough to dump me, then that was her fault.

I am Purrfect!

Life is Purrfect, except for the presence of Rumsfeld. One day, I swear, to the moon with that stupid, annoying, yapping poodle!

My days are quite busy. I feel my Mommy needs help working on The Pink Flamingo, so I am constantly being asked to help her work on the computer. (Psst - the dirty little secret is I am the real person in charge of The Pink Flamingo. I just let Mommy think she's doing all the work. It makes her feel better). I spend time fighting with Rumsfeld. I also think it is my responsibility to keep track of everyone in the family. I am the oldest so I am responsible for everyone. I fight with Rumsfeld ... did I mention that? And I snack on as much Fancy Feast as I can get away with eating. Then there are times when I let my hair down and do a little c-nip. It makes me cranky so I take it out on Rumsfeld, who drives me crazy.

There are some who say I have a nasty attitude, that I am vile and ugly. That's not true. I am purrfectly reasonable. If I am to be criticized it is for being too understanding of human nature and too good to Rumsfeld. Just look at that photo of me with my grandmother. Could anyone else be such a purrfect pussy-cat? I put up with so darn much it is exhausting!