Meet the Cats

Many of the stories on this blog are from our very own cats. We currently have six cats at Seven Oaks Farm. Meet them here!

The Cats of Seven Oaks Farm

When I moved to Virginia, I had one 18 year old cat and no plans to ever own more than one at a time. The cats, however, had other ideas. We adopted Pierre from a local man after my elderly feline suffered a fatal stroke. He's the only kitten I have ever owned. The rest? Shadow, our dog, found them, and Rocky found us. Here are the stories of the cats of Seven Oaks Farm.

Pierre is a gray tabby with a white tail tip. In fact, the man we adopted him from called him "White Tail." He's huge - 17 pounds - and mostly an indoor cat. He's a man's cat, that is, he was raised by a man and seems to prefer men to women. He likes rough games, playing with old socks, and sleeping on a shelf in the closet we've decked out with an afghan and pillow just for him. He is our oldest boy and was born in 2008.

Genghis Khan is our indoor-only cat. A few years ago, our dog, Shadow, found three cats living in the woods. They were youngsters, maybe a few months old, and very, very shy. Our neighbor adopted Nekko, Genghis's brother, and found a home for Gengie's tortoise-shell sister...but Genghis was too wild to catch. We finally lured him out of the woods with treats. He's crazy, cackles like some sort of weird gremlin, and gets into more trouble than any other cat we've owned. He's my office buddy and spends most of his days in a cardboard box (his choice) in my office while I write.

The three cats above are brothers, believe it or not, although we suspect that Whitey had a different, Siamese father....our dog, Shadow, found a litter of kittens dumped in the woods yet again about six months after finding Genghis and his siblings. We brought them  home, fully intending to rehome them. But I couldn't give away Whitey; those blue eyes and constant, rumbling purr made me want to keep him. I fell in love with tiny, runt of the litter Groucho. And how could I give away one brother and not the others? So Shy Boy stayed here, too. These three live outdoors for most of the year, coming inside only when the weather turns ugly.

Rocky showed up about two or three years ago. Our neighbor reported an orange tabby stray beating up her cat and stealing his food. When her cat died, Rocky started raids on our cats' food bowl. At first, we chased him away, thinking he was owned by someone. Over the course of several months, he lost weight, until he was skin and bones, and we realized no one owned him. He decided we should own him. My husband spent weeks luring him out of the garden and the woods with treats until he would eat from a bowl placed in the driveway...and then on the porch. After a year, we were were able to get him into a cat carrier and to our veterinarian, who proclaimed Rocky healthy and lucky. Rocky is now vaccinated, scheduled for neutering, and part of our family. He's still cranky and loves nothing more than beating everyone up, but at least we know he won't transmit any feline diseases!

Mr. Micawber
Mr. Micawber arrived last year and quickly won our hearts. He's a stray who chose us for his forever home. A fluffy, round-headed orange tabby, he loves eating, napping, eating, napping, and snuggling on my lap to watch television.

Rainbow Bridge Cats: Cats Past

Fledermaus (Floofer)
Fledermaus aka "Floofer" or "Da Floof" strutted into the yard on April 16th and loudly announced he had found his forever home. And I mean LOUDLY announced it - this cat had a meow that could bring down the roof! Unfortunately, he had numerous health problems and we made the hard decision to humanely euthanize him just a month after we started caring for him. It's no less painful to make that decision on Day 30 or Year 3 - it always hurts.

Raz could be Rocky's brother...they would have been about the same age. Raz turned up in a ditch near our home, shivering, starving, and filled with cuts. We brought him home and then to the veterinarian, only to discover he was feline leukemia positive. He joined our family and lived with us for two years before succumbing to his illness. We learned a lot about feline leukemia and nursing sick cats from him. Raz taught me about so many ways. What a gentle creature he was. I miss him every day.

Baloo was my first-ever cat. I adopted her from the town animal shelter. She was jet black, without a single white hair. She hated dogs. She loved watching birds from the windows. My dad was really attached to her. When we moved to Virginia from New York, the elderly queen rode on top of a pile of pillows and blankets in the car. She liked crossing the Rappahanock River. Baloo died at the age of 18.What a cat!

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