Meet Kittyboo
The Sweetest Ex-Feral Cat You Will Ever Meet
The first in a multi-part series that chronicles the lives of the Ott cats.
“Meow,” my name is Kittyboo, and I’m a female cat. I know it’s kind of a goofy name, but Mom Ott named me, and they all seemed to think it fit me. Tom, my first owner, tried naming me Murph, but it just never took. I’ve been with the Otts now for about seven years. Before Tom found me, I was living life as a feral cat. You see, these people caught me when I was just a kitten, performed an operation on me and clipped my left ear, and let me go again. I didn’t really ask them to do that to me, but I suppose it fits my overall look. As Dad Ott said once or twice in my hearing, I’m the most perfectly irregular cat he's ever seen. I’m mostly white, with some spots of brown, black and tan colors in random places around my body.
I’m just an average stray cat, but Liz (she’s my best friend) did a search on her tablet and thinks I am a Turkish Van. I’m really not sure what that means, but, yes, the images of so-called Turkish Vans on Liz’s tablet did look a bit like me. Liz and I share a room together—we are quite close, but Tom was my first owner. A few years ago, I saw him and his friends walking down the street one night, and I came out to greet them. At the time, I was hanging around an empty lot where a new house was being built. I followed them closely, meowing every now and then to make sure they noticed me. The next thing I knew they were feeding me a can of tuna. I was pretty skinny back then and Tom was worried about me so he picked me up and brought me home for the family. Tom’s family, the Ott’s, were all sad at the time because pretty soon Tom was leaving home to join the Air Force. Maybe he thought I would make them feel a bit better.
Tom’s parents agreed to keep me as long as Tom first took me to the vet to check me over. The vet told Tom that I was probably eight months old in good health, and that I was indeed a feral cat that no one else owned. That sealed the deal!
A few weeks later, Tom did move out, and I no longer had a roommate. It was a little lonely at night, so I often visited Tom’s parents and slept at their feet. They missed Tom too, I think, and because they were always happy to have me join them at night.
I now had free reign of the entire Ott house. Each day, I picked different spots around the house in which to take naps or bask in the sun. Sometimes in a chair. Sometimes on a carpet; it depended on my mood. I had no interest at all in going outside.
This new home was safe, warm, mostly quiet, and full of nice people. I felt comfortable going anywhere, including the basement. Down there, the family kept some pet rabbits. I would often go down and sit and stare at the two girl bunnies inside their hutch. They both had similar black and white colors as I did.
At first, one of the girls would start thumping at my approach, but after a few visits they decided that I was no threat to them. I just liked to sit and watch and smell their scent.
In addition to a scratching post they had purchased for me, I had lots of furniture quite suitable for sharpening my claws. I quite preferred the furniture—it was much more satisfying to work my claws into it. And I had put a lot of work into them; the imitation leather had become a veritable canvas for my artwork. The family soon replaced them, and I was sad to see them go. Yet, the new fabric couch and chairs were very comfortable to take a nap on, so I didn’t complain.
This state of affairs remained the same for several months until the day (I still remember it all vividly) when Liz came home with her birthday present. My general sense of peace and well-being was interrupted for quite some time to some. But I’ll get into that more in my next installment.
Here’s a little hint as to what it was…
