Cat stories

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My first cat ever, Jérémie, a Siamese. When he was given to me, he was two months old, and white! His markings showed later on. He was my first cat ever and I felt like he was my son! Some son! Destroyed the back of a collection of dictionary, clawing them. We couldn’t take him anywhere as he raised hell. Once, we took him to the country and put him on the grass and he was just terrified of the blades of grass moving in the wind.
We had a friend who was kind enough to take care of him when we were not around. He had nicknamed him Faucifer, a pun on Lucifer, obviously, and Faut s’y Faire, which in French means something like, he is hard to get used to! Whenever we got the cat back, the poor guy had scratches on his hands. Jérémie never scratched us, but he did climb up the curtains and was a little devil.
Cat number 2, Pacha, a black cat with a white breast, that we got from a refuge when Julie and I moved to my present flat. The poor cat peed all over the travel box and himself during the trip from Touques, where the refuge was, and Paris. When we got home, all the boxes and cartons from the move were piled up to the ceiling of Julie’s room. Pacha shot out of his box to the highest and most remote box and didn’t show up for almost two days. There was no way whatsoever to lure him down. When he did show up, he had cleaned up his pissy hair, which now was shiny, he looked his best and gracefully accepted food out of a can. Unfortunately, he turned out to be terribly sick, and only remained with us for a few months as he had to be given a lethal injection when he started being too sick. Poor Julie cried her heart out. Pacha was her first cat and she loved him dearly.
Orion to Julie, Mounir to me, a Scottish Fold. After Pacha died, we went all the way to Chantilly, because we were going to buy a cat that time, not take a sick one from a refuge! So off we went, and we thought we wanted to buy a British short hair. The place was full of cats. And they were all so nice! Suddenly, this cat jumped into Julie’s arms! You can say that he chose her.
The funny part is this jump was totally out of character. Mounir will never jump into anyone’s arms. As he loves Julie, he will sleep on her stomach, but most of the time will just lie a few yards away from you. When he wants to be petted, he starts purring, and as soon as you get near him, will move back a few inches. He wants YOU to get near him, not the other way around.
He used to be such an easy creature! When he saw that we were packing, he would get into his travel box and pull the door shut with his paw. We couldn’t believe it. But those good days are all over. Now I have to chase him around or get him stuck in a corner, with no other alternative than the box. He has also become extremely difficult when taken to the vet. Then, he turns into some kind of a wild beast, howls and hisses and scratches. One of the time I took him there, I overheard some kids saying how mean he looked. Poor Mounir. He is such a sweetiepie when at home.
We have no decent photograph of Pacha and I can’t put my hands on one of Jérémie, although I am pretty sure I have a couple lying around. But Mounir has been heavily photographed both by myself and by Julie. Mounir usually lives with my daughter Julie, except in the summer when I take him to Normandy with me. He’s asked to say hello to Ollie in Maine and to wish him the best.

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6 thoughts on “Cat stories

  1. I’m still afraid of cats but I love Mounir—esp from this distance. I’ve looked at lots of Mounir portraits and I think he is absolutely “Covercat” material. What a hunk!
    Very much enjoyed your entire post—as usual.

  2. Your cat’s photo captures an inquisitive look in Mounir’s eyes. Also, find the shape of his ears intriguing. Am not that familiar with other than the most basic breeds of cats, so didn’t realize there were short hairs. I haven’t the foggiest idea what breed Maine’s Ollie is.

    I am reminded of several cat/kitten experiences which includes the story of the birth of a kitten we kept from the litter of a wild 3 1/2-footed cat we tamed over a 6-8 mo. period. I should have known the day she finally entered our house for a saucer of milk she would previously touch only outside that something was up. I went about my business, when I heard an unusual noise coming from our living room. A quick check revealed she had assumed a spot on a living room chair and was in the midst of birthing what ultimately was a litter of 4 kittens. Despite everything, I felt some sense of pride with feelings of love that we had been able to establish with her a genuine sense of trust and confidence that she and her kittens would be safe with us.

  3. Scottish Folds are such beautiful mutants. When I was raising Manx cats (another
    of the mutant breeds) I became very interested in cats of Mounir’s kind. I remember reading that the
    more of a fold in the ear, the more recessive the gene. It all sounds vague
    now, but at the time If I wasn’t up to my ears in Manx kittens, I would have
    considered a Scottish Fold.

  4. First of all….SHAME on me! Shame on me for not coming to visit you sooner.
    I’d meant to a couple of times and got sidetracked.
    When I had the great opportunity to meet Millie Garfield in person a couple
    weeks ago, she told me I MUST come visit. I just saw your link at Ronni’s place…
    and HERE I am. Finally. And I can see I’ve got my reading cut out for me!
    We just lost our sweet straight-eared Scottish Fold, Angus, last November.
    What you described with personality traits, was my Angus. I just LOVE your
    Mounir…such a sweet face!
    A double shame on me…I’m a confirmed Francophile and ADORE Paris and all of
    France. I’ll be back very soon and very often to catch up.
    A tout a l’heure.

  5. Ollie and I had no idea you have a cat – even if part time. Ollie wants me to tell you that he thinks Mounir is beautiful, especially those very fancy ears.

    And I’m impressed with closing the door on the travel box. How do cats learn these things????

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