What a sweet little baby…

Wheee! I’m first too! (Hang in there Nesterchick)

Adorable kitten. So tiny. And what are flick-flacks?

He’s sooooo tiny, but how cute!!!!!!!!

What a musical kitty

Flick flacks ? do tell……….. As I live in the land of tiny fuzzbutts right now I have to say Babies are the best at any color……….

I’m in love.

marmalade loaf fuzz!

Mew is adorable. I have a weakness for ginger fuzzies and I can testify to how wonderfully different and sweet they are.
Enjoy him and love him, don’t forget the belly rubs :))

A singing ginger kitty. How cool. He’s very pretty and looks like he’d be pretty comfortable sitting in a lap getting ear scratches.

reminds me of my Socks when he was little little- he is now BIG.
T

hehehe, he’s adorable. I thought it was just my ginger cat…before I got one I had only seen one other and he was always so sweet…now mine won’t meow but coo and does the flick thing from time to time too.

Ginger cats are the most intelligent, I think. Sounds like you’ve got an extra-talented one.

Spam bit me? Huh, OK. Guess you can’t just say awwwww. Pity, because ‘awwwwww’ sums it up pretty nicely.

My ginger cat…well, think Garfield and you have the idea. I have Garfield and two miniature furballs running around. What a house.

*I can say my name FUZZ

Colotura Soprano FUZZ*

Mew is a sweetheart, cutie pie! Sounds like he will be a ‘classically’ trained singer. (Lame, I know, but I couldn’t help myself
Have a great day everyone!

Cute ginger kitty but what are flick-flacks?

Mew is an adorable little morsel of an orange baby..
Such a nice “M” on his forehead as well!

Ginger Mew Fuzzums!!!
Sweet little baby girl……………
what’s a flick flack????

OOO I’m in love! She needs lots of belly rubs and cheek nuzzles–I’ll volunteer! Beautiful baby..

How did that spoonful of marmalade get on the blanket?

GINGER SNAP FUZZ

The flick-flack when they are kittens and they flop-bang when they’re full grown trying to be kittens. You know how they get so caught up in the game or chase that their feet go out from under them and crash…… PUT UP THE CHINA-FUZZ!

Little Mew…I have been a surrogate mother to your ginger-colored kin…you ARE SPECIAL!

But that’s just a guess….Mew doesn’t belong to me….

ahhhhhhhhhhh- the flop-bang…………………..gotcha!
Katie is big now and still does that. (usually on linolium) lol

What a beautiful little boy. I’ve never had a ginger cat…I always hear how special they are.

*Sweet Mew-sic FUZz*

pretty interesting….and the Dr Albert Schweitzer anecdote is one of the sweetest things ever….

*FAMOUS CAT LOVERS*

Freddie Mercury loved his cats who were named: Tom, Jerry, Oscar, Tiffany, Delilah, Goliath, Miko, Romeo and Lily.

Ernest Hemingway: Author. Hemingway owned 30 Cats. His most unusual cat was a six-toed cat given to him by a ship’s captain.

Sir Winston Churchill: Prime Minister of England [1874 - 1965]
Sir Winston owned an orange tabby cat named Jock who attended many war-time Cabinet meetings.
Sir Winston commissioned a painting of Jock. Jock slept in his bed every night and was even taken to all the wartime cabinet meetings.

Nostradamus: Seer and Prophet [1503 - 1566]. The French Astrologer had a cat named Grimalkin.

Edward Lear: Artist and Author [1812-1888]. Edward was devoted to his tabby cat, Foss. His devotion was so great that when he decided to move to San Remo, Italy, he instructed his architect to design a replica of his old home in England so Foss would not be disturbed and suffer a minimum of distress after the move. Lear’s drawings of his stripped tabby cat are well-known, especially those which accompany his rhyme, The Owl and the Pussycat. When Foss died, he was buried in Lear’s italian garden.

Abraham Lincoln: American President [1809]. Abraham Lincoln came into presidential office accompanied by Tabby, his son’s cat. Tabby was the first of several White House cats.

Sir Walter Scott: Poet and Author [1771 - 1832]. Author of Rob Roy and Ivanhoe. Sir Walter was also an editor, critic and deputy sheriff of Selkirk in 1799. Absorbed in folklore and the supernatural, Scott was devoted to cats, and a portrait of him by John Watson Gordon shows the author at work at his desk with his tabby, Hinx, lying close by. This Tomcat was known to terrorize Scott’s dogs.

Sir Isaac Newton: Scientist and Philosopher. Sir Isaac, famous for his laws of motion and gravity, was a confirmed cat lover who was deeply concerned about the welfare of his feline friends. Therefore, so his research would go uninterrupted, and his cats should not feel restricted and be at liberty to wander freely in and out when the doors were closed, he invented the cat-flap.

Michel de Montaigne: French Author [1533 - 1592]. One of Michel’s famous quotes: “When I play with my cat, who knows whether she is not amusing herself with me more than I with her?”

Alexander Dumas: Author of The Three Musketeers. Dumas owned a cat called Mysouff. This cat was known for his extrasensory perception of time. Mysouff could perdict what time his master would finish work, even when his master was working late.

Amy Carter: Daughter of Jimmy Carter. Amy owned a number of cats including a Siamese cat with a peculiar name “Misty Malarky Ying Yang”.

Renoir and Monet: French Artists. The French artists loved cats and depicted them in several paintings.

Charles Dickens: Author. Charles’ cat, Willamena, produced a litter of kittens in his study. Dickens was determined not to keep the kittens, but he fell in love with one female kitten who was known as “Master’s Cat”. She kept him company in his study as he wrote, and when she wanted his attention she would snuff out his reading candle.

Dr Albert Schweitzer: 1952 Nobel Peace Prize Winner. Schweitzer became ambidextrous because of his cat Sizi. When Sizi would fall asleep on his arm he began writing prescriptions with his other hand.

cuteness

I love the colour contrast of mew and the blue blanket

Dee,
Your fantastic Romeo is the name for my grey kitten!!!!

My next kitty–if I choose my next kitty instead of being chosen by him/her–will be a ginger-boy. I loooove this little guy!! (And I’ve never heard of flick-flacks either, though I’m sure I’ve witnessed many!)

Generally when my cats would mew at music, it was because I was singing along and they were trying to get me to stop!! Can’t say I blame them, though I must say I didn’t appreciate having my toes bitten just to make the point…

Oh! what a little angel!

How cute is this?

*Doggie Diner Offers Chow Tini Cocktails*

POSTED: 6:43 am PDT October 23, 2006

EDMONDS, Wash. — Some of the patrons at a Washington state restaurant eat like animals.

That’s because the Dining Dog Cafe and Bakery caters to the four-legged set and their friends.

Dogs can even get a cocktail, such as a so-called Chow Tini. It’s actually watered-down, low-sodium chicken broth.

Owner Dorothy Moore said most of her customers are very well behaved and there are few accidents.

Her place features tablecloths, soft music and chandeliers. She told the Edmonds Herald newspaper that she wants her customers, both human and canine, to feel special.

Hey everyone, I am back from vacation. I lurked most of the week and loved being able to see the kittens. I was ready to get home to my fuzzy babies though and was covered in purring cats all night long last night. What a welcome home!.

Little Mew is such a sweetie. He will grow up into a handsome cat. I love the bracket markings by his eyes.

very sweet story…

*The Therapy Team*
By Terry Perret Martin

My sister found Jake roaming the streets. He was all skin and bones, his fur was matted, and he was filthy and exhausted. The only thing shiny about him were his big eyes. They looked just like the eyes of a deer.
My family telephoned me to come look at him as soon as my sister brought him home. When I saw Jake I knew. My family didn’t even have to ask, and I didn’t need to say a word. “We knew you’d take him,” said my sister.
The next day, I took Jake to the vet. After his examination, the vet said, “I’m afraid this dog has a serious heart condition. I don’t expect him to make it to the end of the week.” I’d only had him one night, but the news hit me hard. Jake looked at me and I at him and I said, “Let’s go home, boy.”
A month passed as Jake proved the doctor wrong. Jake blossomed; clearly he adored people and loved life. Grateful for his recovery, we simply took things one day at a time. Then, one morning, I noticed a newspaper article requesting dogs and volunteers for a pet-assisted therapy program. I thought this would suit Jake - and I must have gotten over twenty calls from friends and family who had seen the article and insisted that Jake would be perfect - so I scheduled an interview. Jake was, as the interviewer said, “enthusiastic,” and he went on to pass several more interviews, vet visits and discipline tests with flying colors. He was now an official hospital volunteer.
I was so proud, and Jake was too. For the next six years, we spent every Friday night at the hospital in the oncology/hematology unit; we saw hundreds of patients.
One particular visit stands out. We were working with another team, Sherry and her dog, MacDuff. It had been a long Friday night after a long Friday, and we were all tired. It was well past eleven o’clock, and as we passed the elevator, the doors opened and a man in his fifties and his grown son stepped out. They almost ran into Jake and Mac. “Oh, how beautiful,” said the son. “Can we pet the dogs?”
“Sure, that’s why we’re here,” Sherry replied.
The son knelt down and embraced the dogs, then jumped up and asked, “Can they visit a patient?” He glanced at his father, lifting his eyebrows to seek approval.
His father looked down at the floor and said slowly, with emotion, “My wife is very ill.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, “We’ve seen lots of very sick patients. Which room is she in?”
They led the way down the hall, and as we entered the silent room, we saw the patient lying on her side under the covers. She was asleep, twisted in a fetal position. She was very pale, and we knew instantly that this should be a short visit.
I pulled a chair over next to her head. I sat down and Jake hopped right up into my lap. I gently took the woman’s clenched fist and let her knuckles stroke Jake’s long soft ears.
I spoke directly to her, “This is Jake, and he’s got very long ears. We think he’s part cocker spaniel and part Irish setter.” Her hand relaxed, slowly opened and lightly gripped onto Jake’s ear. Jake glanced at me with his big deer eyes; we knew we’d made contact. I asked the woman, “Did you ever think you’d see a dog in the hospital?”
She opened her eyes just a bit and answered very slowly, but clearly, “No, I never thought I’d see a dog here.” She started to gently pat Jake’s head unaided, with a completely open hand. I smiled. She smiled. Jake smiled.
I said, “He’s got a partner here. MacDuff would like to see you if it’s okay with you.” Sherry lifted MacDuff up. The patient’s face filled with delight when she saw Mac, a beautiful sheltie.
She exclaimed, “My father used to raise shelties.” She asked her son to help her up so she could hug Mac. Every eye in that stark hospital room was on them. Her husband and son beamed.
We didn’t stay much longer after that hug, but the once-solemn room was now filled with warmth. For Sherry and I, this was an absolutely lovely visit with a devoted family. But as we enthusiastically told the nurse about the patient talking and hugging Mac, she interrupted, “You must have the wrong room.” We confirmed the name and the room. The nurse stood very still.
“What is it?” Sherry asked.
She replied, “I have goose bumps.”
The nurse went on to explain that this patient was very sick. Only 5 percent of her brain was functioning. On her arrival, they didn’t think she’d make it through the first night. She’d been there a week, but had not awakened - she wasn’t expected to awake. Family and friends had been keeping a vigil by her bedside the entire time. Now we all had goose bumps.
As the nurse scurried down the hall to check on her patient, we saw the father and son holding tightly to each other outside the room. They were jubilant. We turned and looked down at Mac and Jake sound asleep in the middle of the nurses’ station. I guess miracles are exhausting.
For the next six years, I was blessed with Jake’s company, and I’m grateful for every second. My dog, and others like him, had a power that left me in awe: He lay with people as they prepared for death. He listened as a young mother rehearsed her words to her children, telling them that she wouldn’t be there to celebrate their joys or comfort them in their sadness. He had the ability to help patients overcome pain even morphine couldn’t mask. He comforted family members as they said their last good-byes to loved ones.
I felt so privileged to be a part of our therapy team, not only because I witnessed what Jake was able to do, but because I had the voice to tell of it, and to celebrate it, both during his lifetime and even now, long after he is gone. It’s simple: My dog Jake worked miracles with his love.

I believe I posted this last week, but I don’t think many people noticed—it’s a heartwarming short article about a deer comforting a sick cat—photos included…

http://www.king5.com/lifestyles/stories/NW_061306ANBcatand_deerSW.817a5913.html

Dee, you post the greatest cat stuff. Keep it coming! Mushy or not. I checked out the deer and cat picture this weekend and I was just thinking of thanking you for sharing this wonderful, tender moment in this cats life. It is amazing how other animals just ‘know’ about these things. Thanks so much. You are best!!

With Halloween approaching, here are some of the various superstitions, beliefs,
and historical (fact or not) info about black cats:

* If a black cat crosses your path, you will have GOOD luck.

* Variations to this belief say that you must politely
greet the cat OR stroke the cat 3 times to bring the good luck.

* If a black cat crosses your path, you will have bad luck.

* You can ward off the adversity by reversing your trail
by 12 steps.

(All depends on your point of view and the country you live
in which you may happen to believe)

* King Charles the first of England owned a black cat.
He believed this cat to be lucky and was so afraid of losing
it he had it guarded day and night. Coincidentally the cat
died the very day before Oliver Cromwell’s parliamentary
troops came and arrested the king. Shortly after, King Charles
was taken to the scaffold and beheaded.

* Thought to have nine lives, so aligned with the symbolism
of nine, a lucky number

* The witches in Shakespeare’s Macbeth calls her cat
Grimalkin

* Some believe black cats are witches in disguise.

* Others believe black cats are witches familiars.
(Beings that aid witches in performing their craft.)

* Fisherman’s wives kept black cats while their husbands
went away to sea. They believed that the black cats would
prevent danger from occurring to their husbands. These
black cats were considered so valuable that they were
often stolen

* Some believe that black cats carried demons.

* Some believe that black cats have special powers
and abilities

* Stroking the tail of a black cat will cure a sty in the eye

* To meet a black cat at midnight is to meet Satan, himself.

* Thirteen cats in a theater are bad luck.

* The “blackberry” cats are often born at the end of the
blackberry season, which according to legend is the time
of the year in which Satan was thrown out of heaven,
landing on a blackberry bush which he then defiled with
his urine and spittle.

* In the Ozark Mountains of Tennessee and Arkansas, a
girl not knowing what to answer to a marriage proposal
would take three hairs from a cat’s tail and put them
in a folded piece of paper, which she placed under her
doorstep. She would answer according to whether the
hairs formed an “N” or a “Y”.

He’s beautiful!

A classical singing FUZZ
How aMEWsing!

(sorry, I just had to say that!)
May you have many years of joy with this little ginger baby!

This link has nothing to do with cats. It is a very funny, classic article by my favorite humorist, Dave Barry. I thought I’d share it with whomever wants a good laugh about growing older.

http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/living/columnists/dave_barry/15058805.htm

I like Rosie’s comment, sweet mew-sic. This sweet mew-mew is a real cutie. When he gets older he will probably be a great vocalsist and he has own accompaniment.

This tiny baby is just TOO ADORABLE AND SWEET! Please give him a big but gentle hug and kiss for us. May God bless you and Mew always.

This reminds me of that Looney Tunes episode where Sylvester the cat sings opera arias on the rooftops. Of course, Mew surely has a better voice. Like Pavarotti, but a lot cuter.

You are a beautiful little boy, Mew. Hugs and kisses to you!