There once was a girl who had a big orange cat. The girl loved her cat and treated it like a baby human. In the small umbrella stroller outgrown by her little sister, you wouldn't find a doll. You would find a cat wearing clothes, sitting up, buckled in. The cat had more life (and patience) than any dull doll, and even purred on occasion...when it wasn't being affectionately squished by a most devoted owner.
Well, the cat died, the little girl grew up, and life was feline free.
Until one day, when the girl needed some mousers at her new farm. Her father informed her, "You need two, so no one's lonely." The perfect two were found. But a third cat was soon acquired.
The poor girl, now having memories stirred by all the meowing and purring, couldn't get her mind off that faithful childhood friend - the orange, amiable old soul. So what would she do? Find an orange cat, of course.
She made a visit to her aunt's farm where there was always a cat to be spared. You must know the danger of saying "Here, kitty," in a calf shed filled with cats. The girl was not as brilliant as I'd like to report, and made the mistake of saying those very words in that very place. Cats came from everywhere. To the girl's delight, two of them were orange! Here's where things get tricky - along with the oranges, came a tabby, a grey, and a black kitten. They looked up at the girl with those pleading blue kitty eyes, and what could she do? In a box no bigger than size 10 shoes, this girl stuffed all five cats.
On the way back to her own farm, the girl had to stop twice to round up little escapees that had clawed their way out of the 'sardine can.' She began to think, "What have I done?"
The five new cats joined the veterans - Meow Meow, Amelia, and Moxie.
Yes, I am that girl. And the owner of eight cats. We just finished naming them all:
Wilberforce - the pig
Whiskers - who was singed while sitting too close to the fire
Shmeckles - named after my dad's childhood cat
Jess, Jr. (a.k.a. J. R.) - the little black one we're caring for until my brother's ready for him
Old Grey Mare - cranky little thing
I'm embarrassed, but also quite fond of our kitties. Please don't call me the 'cat lady.'