If anyone had ever told me... (a series)

If anyone had ever told me 20 years ago that I would end up living with and loving three adorable cats, I would never have believed them.

But here I am, with three little fur buddies, and I love them all, and wouldn't part with them.

How the heck did this happen? 

 Well, before I get to that, why would it have seemed so unlikely to me 20 years ago?

 First and foremost, while my family had two different dogs when I was a kid (a Beagle and a Brittany many years apart), we never had cats, and I honestly can't remember any friends who had cats either.  So, they were pretty much an unknown to me until my teen years, when my older sister Nancy had a couple of cats.  I spent a lot of time at her house, because her then-husband Phil and I had launched a kite making company, and I would go over and work on kites with him whenever I could.

The good news here is that I got to spend some time with her two cats.  The bad news is, that even by my sister's recollection, one of them was, well, let's politely say "unpredictable."  My most vivid memory of Maggie was the day she was calmly perched on a table in the kite workroom, and I was petting her and she happily enjoyed it... for a time.  Suddenly, for no apparent reason, she erupted and I found myself with an angry ball of fur running up one arm, over my head, and down the other side of me, claws fully extending and uttering sounds of fury.  I didn't realize it at the time, but apparently my sister's German Shepherd had just appeared, and Maggie hadn't met him and freaked out.  To me, it seemed utterly unprovoked, and I never realized the dog was part of it until just a few years ago.

So, for many, many years, I was at best indifferent to cats, and certainly never imagined having any in my home.  Now and then I'd encounter one, but never one that in any way changed my thinking about cats.  Until my brother moved back from California just before my last year of college, and I got to know his little Manx, Savannah.  At first, we didn't really have much to do with each other, but at one point, I don't recall exactly why, I ended up taking care of her while Stephen was away for a week or so.  During that time, she became much friendlier toward me (the cynic in me said it was because I was the can opener), and even started to sleep in my bed at night.  The biggest downside to that was that she seemed fond of sleeping on my head, which isn't really something I'd recommend.  Anyway, I credit Savannah with the first chink in my anti-cat armor.

Savannah, around 1983, on my desk.

Fast forward to the early 2000s, when I started dating a woman with a cat named Tomas.  Now, I don't think even his human would claim Tomas was the rocket scientist of the cat world, but he couldn't have been a sweeter little guy.  Again, I was called upon for cat care a few times, and he and I gradually became pals.  Once Annie and I decided to move in together, we started discussing finding a sidekick for Tomas.  This lead to finding the wonderful Tybalt in a shelter, who from the start was meant to be my cat.  That little fellow really opened my eyes and my heart to cats, and gave me 16 wonderful years before he died in 2021.  (You can read more about him here.)

Tybalt in 2020, at the age of 15 or so.

Now, that explains how I came to have A cat, but not three.  When Tybalt was middle aged, I was busy transitioning to owning a bicycle shop, and also spending a lot of time over in Maryland with a woman I was seeing at the time.  At some point, with Christy's urging, I started thinking about a buddy for Tybalt.  On a visit to a shelter, seeking parakeets (for Christy), we met a little tabby that had just been captured that Christmas Eve, and had been named Tiny Tim as a result.  When let out of his cage to meet us, he strutted around like he owned the place.  He quickly won my heart, and after a prolonged delay and drama due to his contracting a respiratory infection in the shelter, he was renamed Jinx and finally came home to join Tybalt in my apartment.

Jinx at 4, in his classic Krazy Kitty Mode, 2017.

Jinx at 5, in a more mellow moment, 2018.

The two of them seemed to get along fine, though Jinx was a bit more boisterous than Tybalt liked sometimes, and in particular he seemed to like harassing Tybalt at the litter box, which lead to some issues for a while.  Still, over time they seemed to co-exist very well, and while they didn't sleep together or play a lot, they would groom each other and hang out nearby.

I only learned just how attached they'd apparently grown when Tybalt died in 2021, and Jinx suddenly developed a "barbering" (over-grooming) habit.  I missed Tybalt tremendously, but Jinx was always there for a cuddle, and he and I grew closer. By a coincidence, one of my employees at the bike shop had a young black cat that wasn't fitting in well with their older cat, so it was suggested I take Zero on as a pal for Jinx.  So, as of autumn of 2021, Jinx and Zero had really hit it off and I'd settled back into a two cat household.

Zero in an improvised cat bed on my desk, 2022.

And then I took my annual trip to a cabin at a state park in Pennsylvania, just after Thanksgiving, 2022.  If you follow this blog, you'll know what happened next, as that was the one post I shared in early 2023.  Yep, I found a cat at the cabin, and not for the first time either.  The first time it was a sweet girl cat with a collar and tags that I reunited with her humans after a six month separation.  The second, in 2022, well, he had no tags, no chip, no known humans or backstory, so he came home with me.  I named him Chester Proudpaw, making my little family a feline trio.

Chester in December 2023, a year after he came home with me.

So now, with three cats in a one bedroom apartment, I think I am officially a "cat person", something I never would have imagined years ago.  And something I wouldn't trade for the world.  Each of my cats has been a truly unique personality, something I wouldn't have guessed from my early experiences with cats.  

Tybalt was utterly attached and devoted to me, happily curling up in my lap or next to me at every opportunity and rarely letting me out of sight if I was home.  But he was very shy and skittish around strangers, and took a long time to warm up to people.  When I had to be out of town and someone else took care of him, more often than not, they'd get barely a glimpse of him at best, and often the only evidence he was around was that the food would be eaten and the litter box used.

Jinx was a lot more independent, especially when young, and lap time with him always felt a bit like a "drive by" situation.  That being said, from the very start, that guy has always given the best cat hugs, where he'll wrap his front paws around my neck and just hold on.  As he's gotten older, and especially after Tybs died, he's settled down a lot and is much more inclined to linger with me.  And while his "barbering" appears to be a thing of the past, he still enjoys grooming me, licking my beard and rubbing his face all over it, as well as grooming the other cats.

Zero is still pretty young, around four now I guess so he's still a bit more in the "drive by" mode affection-wise.  But with time, he's definitely come around to me being his human and the other guys as his pack, and he loves having other cats to wrestle and chase around and play with.  He's also one of the best and enthusiastic "biscuit makers" of any cat I've met.  The intensity with which he stares at me while kneading me is pretty entertaining.

And then there's Chester.  He reminds me a LOT of Tybalt, in markings, size and personality.  Thanks to the nights in the cabin, and bringing him to safety, he's quite bonded to me.  There were also a couple of weeks where I spent nights sleeping in my bike shop with him, while waiting for him to be checked out and then neutered by the vet before bringing him home to meet the others.  The big difference between him and Tybalt though is that Chester is not really shy or skittish around others, and generally loves attention.  He now comes to the shop with me often, when we are in the slower season and we keep all the doors closed except for customers and bikes going in and out.  He doesn't show any signs of interest in getting out, but we are all very attentive when ever he's in the shop to prevent any mishaps.  He's also become a bit of a local celebrity, named "Mayor's Pet of the Month" in the town newsletter last spring, and featured in a community service award the shop received last year.

Bikes@Vienna's 2023 Carole Wolfand Community Service award, featuring Chester.

So, here I am in my early 60s, with three cats, and loving it.

Chester, Zero, and Jinx, aka the Gang of Three, January 2024.

Fifteen Years With Tybalt!

While I don't know the exact date, I do know that right about now I'm reaching the anniversary of the first time I ever laid eyes on my little tabby cat Tybalt, and brought him home.  My best guess is that we first met on April 23rd, and he came home a few days later.

I should start by explaining I never thought of myself as a "cat person" for most of my life.  None of my friends when I was growing up had cats, and my family never had cats, only two dogs.  One of my earliest experiences with cats, when I was probably about fourteen or so, did nothing to win me over to the species.  I was visiting my older sister at her house, and was petting her cat Maggie (you Tennessee Williams fans will get that), who seemed perfectly calm.  In a flash, I found myself with a cat, claws out, scrambling up my arm and shoulder to my head, where she launched herself across the room.

Really not a great first impression.

Savannah perched on my desk.

Over time, yes, I met some cats who were nice enough.  My brother had a sweet manx named Savannah that I got to know when we were both back at our parents' house for a while.  I even cat sat for her for a week or so while my brother was away, and got to know and like her pretty well.  Still, over the years, I had few really close and positive interactions with cats.  I, like many others, saw them as mysterious, aloof creatures.  I'll always remember visiting someone's house or apartment who owned a cat, but you'd never, ever know, since they hid the moment you arrived.

Tomas

Then I got to know Tomas.  He was a sweet, big black cat who belonged to a woman I started dating about a year after moving back to the DC area.  He took to me, and I'll admit, I grew quite fond of him.  When we all moved into a house together, it was suggested that I get my own cat, both so I could learn what it's like and to provide a buddy for Tomas.  We talked about it idly, but didn't really make any definite steps.

Then a late April weekend where we had planned a camping trip, and the weather turned nasty... freezing rain and chilling cold.  With camping plans off, we thought we'd go check out a local shelter, and look at cats.  I don't know that either one of us really expected to find one on the first, impromptu trip, but on arrival we met this sweet little tabby kitten named Junior by the shelter.  The shelter had a separate "visitation room" and we took the little guy in there, and he was very friendly and cuddly, not shy at all.  He absolutely won me over right away, so we went to fill out the paperwork to start the adoption process.  As we were standing in line, I overheard the couple next in line talking, and the woman said "his name was Junior, right?" and I realized we weren't the only ones taken by the little fellow.

Paperwork done, all that was required was a house visit to make sure we were going to give him a suitable home.  When the woman came to interview us, Tomas calmly strolled into the middle of the room, plopped himself down, and proceeded to bathe himself.  This made us all laugh and the woman said "well, he's clearly very content here."  So that was that, Junior was mine.

One of my first photos of Tybalt, comfy on my desk.

Upon getting him home, we followed all the good advice about putting him in a room by himself for a while before introducing him to Tomas.  I spent a lot of time just getting to know him, and learning what a smart and playful boy he was.  I also knew I needed to come up with a new name for him, as Junior just wouldn't do.  After trying out a bunch of options in my head, I finally landed on Tybalt, from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.  If you haven't seen or read the play, or seen the amazing Zefferelli film from the 60s, you might not know that another character refers to Tybalt as "rat catcher" and "good king of cats."  It just seemed to suit my new little guy, so that's what I chose.

Snoozing with his buddy Tomas, about a month after coming home.

Prowling the yard.

The funny thing is, for the first few years of his life he was an indoor/outdoor cat, and we learned pretty quickly he really was quite the hunter.  Rodents were not at all safe around our house, and sadly, neither were birds.  He's since become an indoor only cat, which is better both for him and the wildlife.  He did very much enjoy his outdoor time, but it just isn't safe for him or my other cat where I live now.

He's got his eye on that bird outside.

I do have to share one of the funnier aspects of his hunting days early on.   He experimented with a variety of ways to try to wake me up for his breakfast earlier than I wanted to.  Leaping off the headboard onto my chest certainly woke me up... but also got him tossed out of the bed, and not breakfast.  Then one day I was woken by him running around and leaping and pouncing all over the bed.  I opened my eyes, and there he is on the pillow right next to me, with a tiny young mouse pinned under his paw, and he's looking at me like "isn't this cool?"  The mouse still being alive, and me being that kind of person, I managed to get the mouse from him and release it outside.

The next morning... there he was again, running, leaping, pouncing all over the bed.  I open my eyes and he's there on the pillow right next to my head, but no mouse!  The little stinker is looking at me like "Fooled you! Now how about that breakfast?"  Funny thing is, every so often, for the next few years, he would play the same game, and I could never just relax and assume he had no mouse, because I knew all too well what a good mouser he was.  I've lost count of how many times I've found a mouse or even rat he killed.  Luckily, for the last five years or so, there seem to be none where I live.  I'm pretty sure he and my other cat Jinx are the reason for that.

Tybalt in February of 2020, still bright eyed and active.

We've now been together for fifteen years and I couldn't be happier.  He's a sweet, gentle, and very affectionate cat, who likes nothing better than settling down on my lap (where he is right now as I write) or curling up next to me.  He loves naps with me, and at night, as soon as he sees I'm getting ready for bed, he trots into the bedroom and hops into bed with me.  Not a big one for meowing ever, he's got this adorable trill that I love.  He's quite a mellow fellow in his later years, but he'll still play with toys and chase things around, even giving my younger cat Jinx a run for his money.  And I've learned just how wonderful it is to have cats in your life and how easy they are to love.