Whitty ended up not being my cat; when I went off to college, she stayed on the farm. As a result, I don't have many stories to tell from her past 10 years. The story I can relate is that of how Whitty became Stumpy.
About 5 years ago, I gave Dad a purebreed Jack Russell Terrier puppy. She was not the nicest dog in the world, and decided she didn't like the cats so she started chasing them. She convinced the other two larger dogs to do her dirty work for her. Pepper and Festus were normally friendly with cats, and would let the cats rub against them. When Daphne became the leader, she changed that.
One day Whitty was not fast enough getting away from the dogs, and they attacked her, led by Daphne. Whitty was lucky to escape the encounter with her life. She was badly hurt, with a broken tail and partially skinned tail, exposing the muscles and tendons beneath. Mom and Dad took her to the vet, afraid she was mortally wounded, where he amputated her tail, leaving about a two inch stub. Otherwise, she was bruised and battered with no other major injuries.
With just a little stub of a tail, Whitty looks more like a bobcat than ever. She's a brown tabby, with ticked hairs, black stripes on each hair. All she needs are little black tufts of hair on her ears, and one would swear she's a bobcat. She's big enough to almost be one, too. She's 14 pounds, and not a fat kitty. We think she may actually be part bobcat, considering the part of very rural Kentucky I found her in.
Happy 10th Birthday, Whitty, you're such beautiful wildcat who has decided to share our home.
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