F is for Felines

Heh. Managed to get cats in there some how. So, I finally get around to "F" in the ABC-Along (see sidebar for A-E). F is also for Friends and Family, which these felines certainly fill those rolls as well for me. First, we have Morris: Morris has lived a long life. I think. You see, my sister adopted him while she was in the Marines in Jacksonville, NC. Morris was living outside her home, and visited her regularly, bringing her "presents" and whatnot. She'd let him inside every now and then, and one day - he didn't leave. He'd obviously been a part of someone else's family at some point. He was fixed, and friendly. Then she moved to Charlotte along with her 4 other cats, to a 1 bedroom apartment. And Morris, you see, likes his alone time. You can't get alone time when there are 4 other cats taking up all the good sunbeams. So he took to living in the covered litterbox. He stunk to say the least. After convincing my sister that she needed to reduce the feline population of her home, I adopted Morris. He was shy. I took him home and immediately gave him a bath. He didn't like that so much. He spent the first month or so under the bed. I put food and water under there for him. Every night my roommate and I would pull him out from under the bed and hold him, talk to him, and pet him. Eventually, he would come out to greet us and hang out with us. He and Ripple grew to become great buddies. I can't picture one without the other now. The longer Morris and Ripple were together, the more energy and spunk Morris showed. He plays and runs around like he was just a couple years old. We think he's anywhere from 13-15 years old now. He's a good Feline. (Heh, there's my F again.) And then we have Ripple. This is my favorite picture of Ripple. Not the best quality, but it really shows just how funny he is. When I went to graduate school in Louisville, KY - I moved into my first apartment. I was all alone. I'd never been without a cat. Well, when I lived in the college dorms, but even then there were cats around. I had a roommate that was highly allergic to cats. Being the bitch I was though, I got a cat anyway. I got Ripple at the pet shop. He was from the animal shelter and had been found in rurall Kentucky in a box on the side of the road along with his brothers and sisters. He was the last one left. He saw me and immediately crawled up the side of the cage he was in (like one of those Garfield dolls that stick to your car window with suction cups) and I knew he was mine. I brought him home with a harness and leash (I intended to walk him at the local park) and he immediately took to me. He would burrow in my hair to nap (and still does, but instead of my shoulder, he sits on the couch and burrows from behind), he join me in the shower (yup, he likes to get wet) and never objected to a pedicure. Ripple lets me pick him up and snuggle him while he purrs in my ear. He's my kid. He's 7 years old now, but you wouldn't know it. He's still as full of mischief as the day I took him home. Men may come and go in my life (though they haven't come in for several - ok - 5 - years now) but my cats are my constants. They're my friends and my family. The ones I come home to every night that greet me with a headbutt to the shin, and wait for me by the door. They sleep on the bed with me every night. Morris on the pillow by my head and Ripple at the foot. They're my boys. My little redheads.