Friday, December 31, 2004

friday cat blogging - late edition

I haven't been able to get online all day due to congestion on the network with the dial-up provider I have to use when I visit my folks.

This edition of Friday Cat Blogging is Whitty's story.

Whitty sleeping on a footstool with her tail warapped around her

Her proper name is Whittleton KY 11, named for the Whittleton Branch Campground on KY State Route 11. She is more commonly called Whitty, Whitty Kitty, Meanie, Squeak, Kentucky Wildcat, and more recently, Stumpy. Whitty is being featured tonight because January 1 is her 10th birthday.

Whitty's story began in the summer of 1995, when I went camping with some friends at Natural Bridge State Resort Park in Kentucky. We stayed at above mentioned campground in the park. The first night, we walked from the campsite to the lake and nature center in the park. On our way back, a skinny little brown tabby cat came out of the brush on the edge of a parking lot, and approached the four of us, meowing pitifully. I talked to her for a second, asking something like "Where'd you come from?" She followed us for about a half a mile, all the way back to the campsite.

She hung around the campsite all week, while we were there. No one claimed her, and she didn't wasn't wearing any sort of collar. She was very friendly, and we started calling her "Kitty", and feeding her meat from our dinner in the evening - hamburger, hotdogs, etc., and some eggs in the morning. In exchange, a couple of mornings, Kitty left us a dead mouse in the campsite.

By the end of the week, no one had claimed her, and she was leaving our site less and less. I decided to bring her home, that she was an abandoned or lost cat, and needed a good home. So I loaded her up in my SUV, an my friend held her while I drove 2 hours back home to Indiana from the park. When I got home, I coaxed Kitty out of the car, and told Mom "Look! She followed me home. Can we keep her?" I told the story of how no one wanted her and she stayed at our campsite all week. So Kitty became Whittleton, named for the campground I adopted/rescued her from, Whitty for short.

When Whitty reached her full size, she turned out to not be a small cat. She is not fat by any means, a little softer around the middle now in her older years, but only a few ounces. She is a hearty 14 pounds of attitude and muscle. She is a calico tabby, with a ticked coat, which gives her a wild appearance. With all of her bulk and muscle, when she talks it is with this high-pitched little squeak - it's absolutely hilarious. This cat who won't take crap from anybody, and is Queen of All She Surveys, squeaks like a toy.

To be continued...
How Whitty Became Stumpy

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