The titular 'old thing' is a cat stand that was donated to the charity by its long-time supporter. That kind man actually asked the stand to be given to the 'cat lady with the blue and white rug'. Well, that's me, I guess. And this is it: It's a modest thing, yes, but a thing that reminds us that sometimes it's the little things that can make all kinds of difference. And this little cat stand has brought so much joy and comfort to so many little felines. It's lost some of its sheen over time, sure, the cute cushion on top is missing most of the time, but it is still one of the biggest attractions in the kitten room, as far as the kittens are concerned;) And this little blog post is all about paying pictorial homage to the generous donor. The first kittens that got to check out the gift that just won't quit giving were Ripple, Vicious and Tiger. Ripple immediately decided that it's a great spot for some serious modelling work and spent a lot of t...

  Black kittens (who are often actually not black at all, but all shades of brown - hence the inconsistent use of inverted commas hereafter) are some of the friendliest felines I have met. And no, this doesn't mean that I will make any sweeping generalisations about connections between coat colour and personality. It's just that I can't recall a single 'black' kitten who was reluctant to cuddle or play. What I can remember of our time with the dark-furred felines is heaps of joy, and hours of cuddle time, but also frustration over people's hesitance to adopt the 'black' ones. To be honest, I find it difficult to comprehend someone's aversion towards an animal because of the colour of their coat. But then I also don't understand people who shop for a pet with a certain look, as if purchasing an accessory, or an addendum to their image. Yet this happens more often than feels comfortable to admit. For example, you might find that any self-respecting...

During the first day of motherhood, Poppy seemed torn between being a kitten and assuming the role of a mother. She was still running to greet me, asking for cuddles, trying to get me to play with her, and then suddenly scurrying back to her babies. Until one moment I actually got to witness the beginning of her transformation: the babies were in the box and Poppy was eating near the box, throwing quick glances at the crying kitties now and again. Suddenly, out of the blue, as she looked at me, an involuntary, threatening growl arose from the depths of her body. Of course, she was growling at the potential threat to her offspring! After that, for a little while she still kept running to me, trying to be my 'baby', but again those ominous grumbles would sound from deep within her, telling her to be cautious, to keep her guard up. Nature was taking over from nurture right in front of my eyes, instincts were kicking in when absolutely needed. This was awe-inspiring, and quite humb...

 Yes, and then there's Tabs, or Tabitha, to be pedantic. She was born on a farm, and the legend goes that within the first couple of weeks of her life she managed to get caught in a hay bale (although nobody knows for sure, which is very common with farm cats). And so tiny Tabs had tried her mightiest to get out all by herself. Turns out, not a great idea. She ended up with a twisted spine, and two hind legs that couldn't quite receive all the messages from the brain. On top of it all, Tabs was diagnosed with double incontinence. So, she was going to be a little different from any kitten we'd met thus far. We called her Tabs the Pisspot, with utmost affection. And she didn't mind, she had a great self-deprecating sense of humour (which has been shown to be good for one's mental well-being;). Owing to her 'troubles' she was on some serious drugs, but she was also seriously keen on just saying 'no' to them;) This means that at first it was a bit of a s...

 Unfortunately, this little story here doesn't have a machine that goes Bing! But it does have a very cute little feline protagonist called Poppy. So here you go - this is Poppy: Poppy came to us to recuperate after a surgery on her salivary glands. That also meant that she was on some hardcore pain meds (her vets had given me very strict instructions on how and in what exact quantities to administer them), as well as antibiotics for about a week. She was 9 months old, almost alarmingly skinny (the only other cat we'd had whose vertebrae were palpable and visible was Mystery the renal cat, and she was gravely ill). Nonetheless, Poppy's surgery had gone well, she was doing well and after two weeks with us a vet said her wound had healed nicely and she seemed in good health in general. I noticed she was eating like a picky horse - she would consume tons of only one particular wet cat food, everything else made her stools soft or she just turned her nose up at it. But she wasn...

 Perhaps we should start by admitting that 'shy' in this context is often a euphemism. It's an umbrella term for the timid, wild, semi-feral, unsocialised or scared kittens, and possibly a few more. And those kinds of kittens need to be fostered and (re)socialized, as not many people out there are keen on adopting 'troubled' feline individuals. Claudia Jean, shy and then some Anyway, I'll keep using 'shy' here - it's kinda cute, too, and it implies helplessness. And what's more appealing to our good side than a chance to help someone small and vulnerable, to be someone's (very patient) personal Batman/Jesus/Superman? The very first shy kitten we had I called Maris. I called her Maris in honour of Niles Crane's elusive wife in Frasier - one of the best ever off-screen characters in my opinion. So, just like Niles' Maris from Frasier , my Maris was never to be seen. You see, I was a true novice back then and I thought that having a che...