Yes, I'm crazy.
Up till Annie, number 20, all of the cat acquiring has been through my parents. About half our cat population came from stray kittens who were dropped off by their mom's (probably because they saw the overfed felines sleeping in our windows), the other half from actively rescuing cats from the side (or middle) of the road, injured kitties who limped to our door for a handout or neighbors who turned out their pets due to "inconvenience". Let me tell you, there are times that caring for five plus cats has seemed pretty inconvenient, but I just suck it up because these little guys are as much here for me as I am for them.
Once adopted, my cats have always chosen a particular human to bestow extra love on. Sylvester was my first, and for all fifteen years of his life he gave more love than most humans give out. He stayed up with me after watching one horror film too many, and when I was finally able to turn out the lights would wrap his front legs around my neck, resting his face on my cheek. He came running when I called his same (high pitched, holding out the first and last syllables) and would answer in a barely perceptible whispered "mew". Sylvester fought illness after illness until July 1, 2016, and eight months later I still miss his sweet mew and lion-loud purr.
Three days later, my dad and brother came across little Bella lying in the middle of a bridge covered in cinders and gravel. Because my room was the easiest to convert into a kitten's nursery, Bella became my little baby...for a few months. She was, and still is, a curious little calico with a cuddly disposition and stumpy bobtail, and once she could escape my room it was nearly impossible to coax her back in. She quickly became my mom's shadow and follows her around from first thing in the morning until Mum goes to bed.
Annie, though, came into the family in a different way: through my cat-napping abilities. Early this past January, Colin and I were driving to the local Sheetz for milkshakes when I got a call from my mom, who was heading to Philly with the rest of the family. "There's a cat at the Sheetz near the highway. I need you to take her home."
When we pulled into the parking lot seconds later, she was standing under an umbrella over near the antifreeze rack and a little orange cat with eyes like Puss in Boots was sniffing her feet. I started petting the cat, but Mum was impatient about this whole cat-napping ordeal. "Grab her now!"
The cat shrieked when I grabbed her and tried to wiggle away. I clutched her even tighter, scooped her up and carried her to the car. The kitty didn't kick or scratch but I'm surprised no one stared at this little orange cat screaming to high heaven as I carried her away from her home under the antifreeze. Once in the car, she hid under the seat but slowly poked out her head to stare at me with huge golden eyes.
"It's okay," I told the kitty. "You're coming home to my house."
She blinked and crouched below the seat as if contemplating if this was any better than the gas station. Colin joined us a few minutes later with a lunchable for the kitty (she didn't think much of it) and we drove home in the pouring rain with a little cat crying in the back seat. She spent the night on the back porch out of the rain that night, but the next evening Annie was moved up to the kitten nursery (aka my room). She's never left. During the day she enjoys romping around the house with Bella, but at bedtime she tucks herself in on top of my suitcase under the bed until she's ready to cuddle up with me.
Despite the craziness of having six cats in one house, I would never change my mind about taking in any of these little guys. They're not just my pets. I'm their human, and we depend on each other. Trust me, take in a rescue and they will be devoted to you for the rest of their lives.
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