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So here's what I know about Pursimmon's back story: she was found at the end of July as a pregnant stray in the northwestern most county of the Maryland panhandle by animal control and taken to the county shelter. The county is sparsely populated and the Alleghany Mountains of the Appalachian Range runs through it. So there's lots of wilderness and state parks with a few small towns and some villages and resorts.
I don't know if she was found in a town, around homesteads, a resort or camp where she was left behind by tourists, or in the wilderness, but I'm glad it was summer and hope she didn't go stray in the winter, because that would be some cold country to be out in winter. But there's no telling how many days or weeks or months she had been living stray, whether she was a young kitten or a young cat when lost or dumped, and what kind of socialization she had before being homeless. Siameses can get pregnant earlier than other breeds, as early as 4 months old.
Within a day of being captured and brought to the shelter, this mountain girl gave birth to 3 kittens. I imagine even a shelter cage felt safer than the life she was living as a place to give birth, poor thing. One of them died within a few days. The remainder were a flame-point boy, like his mom except he was deaf, and a dilute tortoiseshell girl.
A rescue out there transported Purrsimmon and her kittens south to a rescue group in Purcelville, VA in the Virginia foothills, a little more populated area at the far edge of the Washington, DC metro area where she and her kittens would have a better chance to find adopters. A fosterer with a spare room to keep a mom with her kittens in separation from her other foster animals was found, and Purrsimmon was put on mom duty for 2 months until her kittens were old enough to be adopted. Her daughter was adopted then, but her son broke his leg and so Purrsimmon was kept on mom duty with him another month. Her son was then adopted by a man who works with deaf people, so that was a nice connection where his disability could be an asset in his new home.
Purrsimmon was spayed in October. They determined her to be about a year old, so they made her birthday, October 1st. Off mom duty, she could now hang out with the other foster cats and she liked to sit near another young cat, a dilute tortoiseshell girl, but was skittish with people. Now it was time to find her a home and they started advertising her on Petfinder.com and other sites. This was the pic of her I saw on Petfinder before I decided to ask about her in December after Moo died:
How did I resist that face I kept coming back to for so long? The ad didn't say much about her except that she was sweet. A number of people called about her, but the coordinator was waiting for someone like me to adopt her out. She told me Purrsimmon "didn't have a mean bone in her body" which I knew was bull, because CAT--cats play with their live food! You have to have some meanness when you're a predator--it's a stop on the dial between Playfulness and Anger, and I could feel this girl had some anger to work out with all she went through. But she's not a dominant soul, so she is on the gentle side. I didn't need a sales pitch that she couldn't be mean to take her.
OK, that was a long enough digression, but a necessary info dump, and yeah, imagining her tiny, delicate self pregnant in the wild, I can't tell you how I wanted this girl to have the best life I could give her, but I was so anxious if things would work out when she didn't want to venture out of the bathroom, as nice a new room as it is.
And how she and Tuxie would get along. Despite the fact that I KNOW I have mad cat mediation skillz and would work with them until they got along because I was committed to my troubled little Elf princess. But do I trust myself and my abilities? No, I'm neurotic. Duh. Hence, all of life is an adventure.
And then I got a phone call. Remember that last tortie-point siamese kitten that I had been turned down for? Well, her potential adopter had second thoughts on getting cats, and the kitten would be available on Saturday 12/28 if I still wanted her--her brother was already spoken for. Oh boy. Just what I needed--a kitten to add to the mess of complications. And yet, a cat friend was just what Purrsimmon needed, since Tuxie wasn't ready to take that role, and a kitten would be playful and Purrsimmon had a lot of play in her, as is more usual than not for a siamese. What she needed was a well-adjusted kitty companion who was confident and would help her explore and claim her new home as her own. I asked about the kitten's personality, and they thought she was a bit shy, but she was one of a litter of 7, so there's only so much they knew about her and they did think she was the sweetest. They had a pie theme going for the kittens and had named her Pecan Pie. OK, I would go see Pecan Pie Saturday. If she were really shy, then I would need to be hard and not take her. Yes. Yes, I would.
As IF. How was I going to resist a kitten? I'd bring her home and then I could wind up with 3 cats who didn't get along. Was I just going with this because it was possible Purrsimmon would never be a cuddler and I wanted a well-adjusted cuddle for myself? If Purry didn't like the kitten, I'd have to bring her back because it wouldn't be responsible to keep a kitten without another young cat to play with her--a lot of rescues require you to take home kittens in pairs. As if bringing back a kitten wouldn't totally gut me. Here I was, having to make things more complicated adding another cat to the mix, but a companion for Purrsimmon really was the logical best path for this cat-centered frightened girl to feel at home and happy. So I would decide on Saturday.
So Christmas Eve, Purry wouldn't venture out of the bathroom that afternoon. But in the evening, as Tuxie and I sat on the sofa side by side as I was on my laptop--zoooooooooooooommmmmmm! Purrsimmon did a lightening run a little bit into the living room and then back into the bathroom. Zoooooommmmm! She did this several times throughout the evening, venturing a little further each time. I finally dubbed these round trip excursions The Purry Express. "Where is the Purry Express?" I'd call, and in answer, she'd do another high speed excursion. Tuxie got in her path a couple of times and there were hisses, so I decided I'd shut her in the bathroom for the night so we could avoid a bloody Christmas morning.
On and off all Christmas day, Tuxie and I got treated to views of the Purry Express. Each excursion she'd venture a little further until she covered the living room. Then she started venturing into the kitchen until she finally discovered she could make a a full circle through he kitchen and back into the living room on the other side. I could even hear the patter of buffalo feet up and down the stairs as she took a peek at the upstairs. I was so happy she was really making progress now.
And I loved that she'd make another run every time I'd call for more commuters waiting on the platform for the Purry Express. She really warmed to having audience participation.
Thursday Purry finally allowed herself to sit in the living room for short periods and even play.
She would disappear for longer periods into the kitchen and upstairs. I'd avoid going in there to give her space to explore.
And then the Purry Parade started.
She'd grab a shoelace or ribbon in her mouth and march with it while meowing, as best she could with a string in her mouth.
She'd hold her head as high as she could to try to avoid stepping on the string as much as she could as she marched, to little avail--it was such a funny little march, her singing all the while. I'd join in with march tunes, and again, she seemed to warm to audience participation. Tuxie was a silent observer. The parades continued on Friday and this way, she was exploring the house, though always returning to the bathroom after a while, her safe space.
So she was coming along now. But still very skittish with me. Any time Tuxie looked her way, she would sit down in bun position--like a loaf, but more scrunched propped on the front feet. And she'd blink her eyes slowly, in the "I come in peace for all catkind--I mean no harm" signal and would lower her head in submission. Tuxie remained unimpressed, but at this point, I no longer worried he would attack her, mainly because, though he was more than double her size with long, strong limbs, she was way faster and smarter and could get away from anything he might pull. So it seemed things were slowly working out, and I was committed to loving this kitty for life and giving her the room she needed to be as happy as she could be.
Saturday came--should I go see this kitten or leave her to someone else now that Purry was coming along? The rescue volunteers were bringing the kittens from the foster in northern Maryland to a Petsmart in Dundalk--a town on the bay on the northeast side of Baltimore. There they would distribute them to the people picked to adopt them, and Pecan Pie was the last of her litter left unspoken for. Still, it would be better for Purrsimmon to have a playmate if she would accept her.
OMG, KITTEN!!! Three months old. I had never adopted a kitten that young. Tuxie was probably more like 4 months old when I met him, but he didn't move in until he was 6 months old and I got him and his mom neutered, and after they had time to recover, he decided he would not go outside ever again, though his mom Moo demanded to be let out until a couple of months later when we moved to a suitably larger apartment that she had inspected with me.
KITTEN!!! A tortie-point siamese kitten!! Possibly a mini-Saki in personality, I hoped. So, off to Dundalk I went to meet Pecan Pie . . . .
I don't know if she was found in a town, around homesteads, a resort or camp where she was left behind by tourists, or in the wilderness, but I'm glad it was summer and hope she didn't go stray in the winter, because that would be some cold country to be out in winter. But there's no telling how many days or weeks or months she had been living stray, whether she was a young kitten or a young cat when lost or dumped, and what kind of socialization she had before being homeless. Siameses can get pregnant earlier than other breeds, as early as 4 months old.
Within a day of being captured and brought to the shelter, this mountain girl gave birth to 3 kittens. I imagine even a shelter cage felt safer than the life she was living as a place to give birth, poor thing. One of them died within a few days. The remainder were a flame-point boy, like his mom except he was deaf, and a dilute tortoiseshell girl.
A rescue out there transported Purrsimmon and her kittens south to a rescue group in Purcelville, VA in the Virginia foothills, a little more populated area at the far edge of the Washington, DC metro area where she and her kittens would have a better chance to find adopters. A fosterer with a spare room to keep a mom with her kittens in separation from her other foster animals was found, and Purrsimmon was put on mom duty for 2 months until her kittens were old enough to be adopted. Her daughter was adopted then, but her son broke his leg and so Purrsimmon was kept on mom duty with him another month. Her son was then adopted by a man who works with deaf people, so that was a nice connection where his disability could be an asset in his new home.
Purrsimmon was spayed in October. They determined her to be about a year old, so they made her birthday, October 1st. Off mom duty, she could now hang out with the other foster cats and she liked to sit near another young cat, a dilute tortoiseshell girl, but was skittish with people. Now it was time to find her a home and they started advertising her on Petfinder.com and other sites. This was the pic of her I saw on Petfinder before I decided to ask about her in December after Moo died:
How did I resist that face I kept coming back to for so long? The ad didn't say much about her except that she was sweet. A number of people called about her, but the coordinator was waiting for someone like me to adopt her out. She told me Purrsimmon "didn't have a mean bone in her body" which I knew was bull, because CAT--cats play with their live food! You have to have some meanness when you're a predator--it's a stop on the dial between Playfulness and Anger, and I could feel this girl had some anger to work out with all she went through. But she's not a dominant soul, so she is on the gentle side. I didn't need a sales pitch that she couldn't be mean to take her.
OK, that was a long enough digression, but a necessary info dump, and yeah, imagining her tiny, delicate self pregnant in the wild, I can't tell you how I wanted this girl to have the best life I could give her, but I was so anxious if things would work out when she didn't want to venture out of the bathroom, as nice a new room as it is.
And how she and Tuxie would get along. Despite the fact that I KNOW I have mad cat mediation skillz and would work with them until they got along because I was committed to my troubled little Elf princess. But do I trust myself and my abilities? No, I'm neurotic. Duh. Hence, all of life is an adventure.
And then I got a phone call. Remember that last tortie-point siamese kitten that I had been turned down for? Well, her potential adopter had second thoughts on getting cats, and the kitten would be available on Saturday 12/28 if I still wanted her--her brother was already spoken for. Oh boy. Just what I needed--a kitten to add to the mess of complications. And yet, a cat friend was just what Purrsimmon needed, since Tuxie wasn't ready to take that role, and a kitten would be playful and Purrsimmon had a lot of play in her, as is more usual than not for a siamese. What she needed was a well-adjusted kitty companion who was confident and would help her explore and claim her new home as her own. I asked about the kitten's personality, and they thought she was a bit shy, but she was one of a litter of 7, so there's only so much they knew about her and they did think she was the sweetest. They had a pie theme going for the kittens and had named her Pecan Pie. OK, I would go see Pecan Pie Saturday. If she were really shy, then I would need to be hard and not take her. Yes. Yes, I would.
As IF. How was I going to resist a kitten? I'd bring her home and then I could wind up with 3 cats who didn't get along. Was I just going with this because it was possible Purrsimmon would never be a cuddler and I wanted a well-adjusted cuddle for myself? If Purry didn't like the kitten, I'd have to bring her back because it wouldn't be responsible to keep a kitten without another young cat to play with her--a lot of rescues require you to take home kittens in pairs. As if bringing back a kitten wouldn't totally gut me. Here I was, having to make things more complicated adding another cat to the mix, but a companion for Purrsimmon really was the logical best path for this cat-centered frightened girl to feel at home and happy. So I would decide on Saturday.
So Christmas Eve, Purry wouldn't venture out of the bathroom that afternoon. But in the evening, as Tuxie and I sat on the sofa side by side as I was on my laptop--zoooooooooooooommmmmmm! Purrsimmon did a lightening run a little bit into the living room and then back into the bathroom. Zoooooommmmm! She did this several times throughout the evening, venturing a little further each time. I finally dubbed these round trip excursions The Purry Express. "Where is the Purry Express?" I'd call, and in answer, she'd do another high speed excursion. Tuxie got in her path a couple of times and there were hisses, so I decided I'd shut her in the bathroom for the night so we could avoid a bloody Christmas morning.
On and off all Christmas day, Tuxie and I got treated to views of the Purry Express. Each excursion she'd venture a little further until she covered the living room. Then she started venturing into the kitchen until she finally discovered she could make a a full circle through he kitchen and back into the living room on the other side. I could even hear the patter of buffalo feet up and down the stairs as she took a peek at the upstairs. I was so happy she was really making progress now.
And I loved that she'd make another run every time I'd call for more commuters waiting on the platform for the Purry Express. She really warmed to having audience participation.
Thursday Purry finally allowed herself to sit in the living room for short periods and even play.
She would disappear for longer periods into the kitchen and upstairs. I'd avoid going in there to give her space to explore.
And then the Purry Parade started.
She'd grab a shoelace or ribbon in her mouth and march with it while meowing, as best she could with a string in her mouth.
She'd hold her head as high as she could to try to avoid stepping on the string as much as she could as she marched, to little avail--it was such a funny little march, her singing all the while. I'd join in with march tunes, and again, she seemed to warm to audience participation. Tuxie was a silent observer. The parades continued on Friday and this way, she was exploring the house, though always returning to the bathroom after a while, her safe space.
So she was coming along now. But still very skittish with me. Any time Tuxie looked her way, she would sit down in bun position--like a loaf, but more scrunched propped on the front feet. And she'd blink her eyes slowly, in the "I come in peace for all catkind--I mean no harm" signal and would lower her head in submission. Tuxie remained unimpressed, but at this point, I no longer worried he would attack her, mainly because, though he was more than double her size with long, strong limbs, she was way faster and smarter and could get away from anything he might pull. So it seemed things were slowly working out, and I was committed to loving this kitty for life and giving her the room she needed to be as happy as she could be.
Saturday came--should I go see this kitten or leave her to someone else now that Purry was coming along? The rescue volunteers were bringing the kittens from the foster in northern Maryland to a Petsmart in Dundalk--a town on the bay on the northeast side of Baltimore. There they would distribute them to the people picked to adopt them, and Pecan Pie was the last of her litter left unspoken for. Still, it would be better for Purrsimmon to have a playmate if she would accept her.
OMG, KITTEN!!! Three months old. I had never adopted a kitten that young. Tuxie was probably more like 4 months old when I met him, but he didn't move in until he was 6 months old and I got him and his mom neutered, and after they had time to recover, he decided he would not go outside ever again, though his mom Moo demanded to be let out until a couple of months later when we moved to a suitably larger apartment that she had inspected with me.
KITTEN!!! A tortie-point siamese kitten!! Possibly a mini-Saki in personality, I hoped. So, off to Dundalk I went to meet Pecan Pie . . . .
Tags:
- cat rescue,
- cats,
- meezers,
- moo,
- pecan pie,
- purrsimmon,
- purry,
- saki,
- shuri,
- siamese cats,
- tuxie