Interesting. Some of the reasons I've seen.

Spenser, newest cat, seems to have an attachment to his litter box contents. Every time I scoop, he's in there trying to stop me.

I had to get a covered box because he loved tossing litter out of the open box.

Back in '05, I'd first moved here to Georgia. I had my old man Quincy cat, but I missed Molly, who was too old and sick to make the move, so I had to have her put down five days before I moved.

Shortly after moving here in August, in December I was at Petsmart looking at kittens, and I saw a cat carrier on the floor. I asked. The attendant said it held a ten year old cat who had lived with one old man who had to go to a nursing home. I was curious. Smoky was a HUGE old gentleman, and clingy in his nervousness. The attendant saw a cat lover in me. The word was...NO adoption fee because he's unadoptable...and he'll be put down next week if nobody takes him. I detached him from me...that attachment said a lot...and adopted him. Quincy threw a fit I expected when I got home, but my sister, not a cat person, was taken aback. (She encouraged me to rescue Smoky. She just doesn't know cats.)

Smoky turned out to be cool. He had an Englishman's manners. Every morning of my life, Quincy DEMANDED breakfast, and he broke things if I didn't go feed him. Smoky was laid back. He'd sit by his bowl, good posture imposed, and seem to say, "I know you are busy, good woman, but when you have a minute, I would like a bit of food." He always waited. I always got there.

Quincy and Smoky were never friends, but they cooled it and had peace.

Then, just this time of year in 06, Thanksgiving week, when Quincy suddenly took sick before Thanksgiving and had to be put down in my arms right after, I had just Smoky.

That Christmas, I took in two new kittens, Caleb and Kiplee.

Smoky was kind. He did, however, endure smart arse behavior from them...mostly very well. Caleb did NOT understand litter box. One day I watched old Smoky SHOW Caleb how it works. Smoky was usually quiet and unassuming, but one day, he made enough noise in the litter box to get kitten Caleb to watch. From that moment on, Caleb GOT it.

Several months later, Smoky failed. Suddenly, he didn't eat. He lost weight fast. And he peed on my bed.

He was a cat with class and pride. He would never have soiled my bed if he couldn't help it. Clearly, the old gentleman could not help it and had serious issues. He lost a clear half of his body weight in a month. I knew he was seriously ill. I could not afford big vet bills, and I knew Smoky missed his old man.

I took him to the vet and explained what was going on and thought it was his time. The vet didn't argue at all.

I held the gentle old man and cried as he died. I buried him here at home, and I have a marker for him. I still like to picture the Rainbow Bridge thing...of Smoky and his old man together now.

Smoky is probably the least of them...and the greatest. He was kind of religious inducing.

But...I think I made a right call.

Reason #1: Cat's are Snob's, Pure and Simple!

The only way I have endured losing them is to take on little ones who need love. God is good that way.

I have mourned the loss of pets.

Last spring, I was missing Quincy a lot. One day at work, my office partner's wife sent a picture of a three and a half week olod kitten she found abandoned. I took one look at that baby face, and I was his BEFORE my friend said I needed him.

I've had him for eight months now. He's sweet and bad and hungry always and mostly sweet, and that's the only way I cope with misosing the ones I loved before. Spenser is my life. He needed an old lady, and I needed him. I miss the others who have passed, but he's here now.

So true.

If you can KNOW a cat loves you, that's something to be proud of.

OIY!! ALL Cat's iv'e met are Snob's! That's why I love Dog's!!

Tonight is a little warmer -- 24F -- with a good coating of snow on the ground. Since it is just past gun-buck season, Belle-dawg has found a front deer leg and is in heaven showing me her treasure and spending hours lying in the snow chewing away. I expect that in a week or so she will drag the rest of the deer home, as usual. It will be called her Dinosaur and she will be very happy draging it around between the house, over the bridge, to the barns and back. Before long, it will slowly disappear as she buries bones all over the pastures. Then months from now, when they are ripe and suit her taste they will reappear.

When I opened the door and told her it was bedtime, she cowered as if she was going to be beaten -- her body language said it may be time for you to go to bed but not time yet for me to come in. So, I told her that I'd leave her out for another five minutes and then it would be her bedtime. About five minutes later, I opened the door and she had her nose right at the door opening and came in. I swear that dog can talk -- at least understand and comply with everything I say.

Now for the cats -- we have three older ones and three young juveniles. I like to keep the older ones in what I call the 'green room' -- a heated sun room between the house and the garage. But.... 'My Cat Spot' has only been inside twice in seven years of his life. I usually see him hunting mice and voles in the pastures -- he prefers fresh food. His brother 'Hunter' is a little more friendly, but really likes to stay outside. The mother cat, Hey Cat' is getting pretty old now and I'd like her to come in out of the snow, but she teases me by walking toward the open door, flipping on her back and rolling in the snow. I eventually give up and close the door. Othertimes, she beats me to the door and slips inside.

The young boys, 'Orville and Wilber, the White Brothers' decided to come in to sleep in front of the gas heater in the green room on the chair with the pillow; while the newest orphan, Punkin the orange colored one, also decided to come inside tonight. Last night he and one of the White Brothers decided to stay out in the 20F snowy night. So, tonight the elder cats stay outside in the snow while the youngin's are inside next to the heater. Go figure....

I don't worry too much about them as there are a thousand places for them to find shelter in the barns, or small cracks between hay bales, or in feed traughs semi-filled with hay.

Tonight, when I came into the green room those kittens had moved a t-post driver about four feet from its usual storage place. A t-post driver is a length of weighted pipe closed at one end with a couple of handles used to drive metal fence posts into the ground. This one weighs about 30 pounds and can give a good workout when used for several t-posts. Now, how on earth did three little kittens weighing no more than two pounds apiece move that t-post driver? They have also moved an eight foot 4X4 about three feet from where it was stored!

I wish people would not think that a farm is an ideal place to drop discarded pets 'cause it is such an ideal life for their pets. In many cases it is, but sometimes I can't find a good home for them.

Don