I also love my kitties... come meet them!

Kolumbia and Niles cuddle on the recliner.

Kolumbia, my beautiful calico, has left us to cross the Rainbow Bridge.  She was in a lot of pain from arthritis and was finally not able to move off of our bed, so I had to let her go.  She was 14 years old and went out of the world spitting and hissing like the old broad she was.  She was with me for more than 13 of her 14 years, through parties, through sobriety, through marriage, miscellaneous other cats, and finally, the little tiny loud crying kitten named Brendan. 

She took it all in stride, except for that day we moved from the apartment I'd lived in as a single gal.  We'd shut her in the bathroom and moved everything out.  We almost forgot her and when we ran back in and opened the door, she walked out into the now empty bedroom, walked to the center of the room, paused, and fell over on her side, eyes wide open, in shock.  Her entire world was gone.  LOL!

I will cherish the memories of her working the parties I'd have, making sure she sat on everyone's lap, taking empty chairs like she was the ultimate hostess saving your seat. 

Finally, my favorite memory of that beautiful cat:  When I'd had her about a year, I tried to get a second cat, a little grey tabby I named Magenta.  Kolumbia was not amused.  When Magenta was about a week in residence, she jumped to the top of the entertainment unit, about a 5 foot jump.  I scolded her and put her down.  The next day, when I got home from work, I saw that a big plant on top of the unit was dug up, dirt all around the planter.  I rubbed Magenta's nose in it while Kolumbia watched.  The next day, there was that plant, dirt all around, the plant's roots exposed.  Two more days of this and Magenta was on her way to a home in the country with some friends who had a farm. 

Two days later, I returned home from work to find that plant dug up again!  I was amazed.  I'd NEVER seen Kolumbia jump up there before... and I never saw her do it again.

I miss her every day.

Niles (seen in the picture above with Kolumbia), my big ole fluffer nutter peanut butter boy, passed away in his sleep in early August 2005.  He was 8 years old. He was my big ole pooh bear kitty and I miss him so much, especially because he died just 3 weeks after my dad passed away.  If there is a heaven, at least Dad has a big fluffer boy to keep him company, and Niles is with his beloved Kolumbia again.

My mind drifts to when we first brought Niles home.  Kolumbia rejected him completely and totally, but he was persistent, forcing himself into her cat bed by the screen door.  One fluffy paw in, she'd hiss, he'd freeze... another fluffy paw in, another hiss, he'd freeze again.  Finally, he got all the way in... and she groomed his head.  Guess she just wanted him to earn his place by her side.  Until the day she died, he stayed by her side when she'd let him, always waiting for her to groom him and his purr would echo when she did.

We buried Niles in our back yard, under a tree, and when Spring rolls around, we'll dig a nice big hole next to him and put Kolumbia's ashes in there, so they can be together forever.

Lilith, our 4-year-old folded-ear Scottish Fold, blue in color with brilliant gold eyes. She was supposed to be show quality, but unfortunately, she developed all of the skeletal abnormalities of the breed. She's very skittish, but she loves Joe!

Frasier, our 3-year-old grey American Shorthair with beautiful teal-colored eyes, whom we adopted from the Feral Cat Foundation in California when I was pregnant with Brendan. We think he might be a Korat breed, but we'll never know for sure. 

This little guy has no respect for anyone's personal space and he's the softest cat I've ever known. Every morning, Brendan opens the bedroom door and this cat is up on the bed, trying to get under the covers before I can even look up.  He presses up against me, purring as loud as I've ever heard.  He will bring me toys, murring while it's in his mouth.  He "talks" to me, using inflections in his meows that make it sound like he's actually saying words.  He's my crisis cat, always at my side when I'm down.

My pretty little devil, Daphne. ;-)

Daphne (so yes, now we've completed our "Frasier" set) is our little terror.  She's 4 years old now, having gotten her from the animal shelter in January 2002.  She is obsessed with Joe, constantly on his lap, purring loudly and reaching for his face.  Once, she dropped down on the floor at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to pet her... unfortunately, he was already stepping down to the first step and he tripped, tumbling to the landing, big scraps down his arms.  She's a little psycho cat!