A Cat A Day: 207/365

It’s taken me 3 months to get round to installing my scanner software on the MacBook Pro. It’s done now and I can bring you a few old pictures.

Me_and_steve_mcqueen

This is me in my mid-twenties with Steve McQueen, the rescue cat. This is her story:

She was one of a litter of kittens my step-father was asked to take to be put to sleep, because no homes could be found for them. He was very busy that day, so the kittens had to spend a couple of hours at his office. They escaped their cardboard box at some point, but were collected up again and taken to meet their fate.

Later in the afternoon, a little furry face emerged and it was discovered that one kitten had avoided the fatal vet visit. Although more of a dog than a cat man, John couldn’t bring himself to go the vet’s a second time, so he brought the kitten home. Because she had made a Great Escape, we all felt there was only one possible name for her.

 

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2 thoughts on “A Cat A Day: 207/365

  1. What a fine cat Steve was! She arrived a day or two before Christmas, as I recall. I returned home from whatever teenage boys do between the start of the Christmas holidays and Christmas itself and there was this surprise kitten suddenly in the house, at the insistence of John Hemy, no less! She was the first cat that I’d actually known since kittenhood (Spook was older than me, and Tinkerbell only a month or two younger), and for all that she didn’t have inherent siamese grace or elegance, she certainly had plenty of personality.For example, she _loved_ to ride around on my shoulder. I’d pick her up for a cuddle and after a few moments she would climb out of my arms and settle with back paws on my shoulder and forepaws on my wrist like some kind of feline falcon (or ‘kittyhawk”, aha-ha-ha…). She also soon worked out that she could stay out most of the night, then climb along the wysteria _past_ our parents bedroom until she reached my window where she would wowl and wowl and wowl until I actually let her in. Sure, I’d get briefly woken at 5:30 every morning, but I’d then get a purring furry hot water bottle for a couple of hours until it was time to get up. It never struck me as less than a fair exchange.

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