Fonzerelli Fuzzlenuts

Fonzerelli Fuzzlenuts is a short-haired white male.  He’s a super-friendly people-person, who just loves snuggling.  He was barely a year old when he came to us.  He’s very well-mannered, both with humans and with other cats.

We first saw him outside, and he walked towards us, “talking” at us, when we called to him.  On the 3rd day, he walked right in our enclosed porch for us and begged for lovin’.  We figured by the rather strong aroma, and his apparent young age, that he’d probably been dumped because it didn’t occur to his previous owners that a little trip to the vet and a quick snip-snip would eliminate that nasty odor…they’d rather almost literally throw him to the coyotes, than get him neutered.  There are spay & neuter clinics and such, some of them mobile units; training for up and coming young veterinarians, for instance, that can cost barely $40 for a neuter.  They just need a bit of research to find when and where they take place near you.  We’ve had coyote packs with as many as twenty members in this area, and they love to eat cats!  Just dumping them out in the wild will end up with them dead!  We tried to find his owner for almost a month, just in case he’d simply escaped on them and the new influx of hormones had sent him wandering, before we went ahead and had him neutered.  He wasn’t starved enough to have been traveling all that far, as indoor cats rarely have the first clue about the mechanics of catching your own dinner; and none of our neighbors recognized him (in the country, there’s usually a mile or more between most houses, so we didn’t have to check with all that many people).

He went through a faze, thankfully short-lived, where we nearly re-named him “Pig-Pen”.  Dirt baths are actually good for a cat’s fur; when they are finished grooming the dust out of their coats, it’s like they’ve had a luxury spa bath with a very expensive shampoo and conditioner.  The problem is, they let off a literal dusty little cloud with each movement, until they groom it off!   And Fonzie wasn’t satisfied until he’d had a solid week of rolling in as much dirt and dust as he could find.

Fonzie had to have been a house-cat before he came to us, and not a barn-cat; he was much too familiar with the intricacies of house life–opening doors, the most fun pathways over the top of furniture to avoid touching the floor, the fun of water faucets, what comes from refrigerators, the joy of nicknack rearrangement; sleeping through the use of a shop vac as a feline brush…  He’s one of the ones who likes to be vacuumed with the hose-brush.  He was a little startled at all the other strange cats wandering around, but it only took about a week before we could trust him loose with the others without expecting mass mayhem and bloodshed.  Now it’s just moderate mayhem and wobbling furniture.  Since the vast majority of our colony is seniors or near-seniors, he’s only got a couple of willing playmates–mainly Clancey Too and Yonkers.  It can be interesting when he mistakes one of the more “mature” cats for one of his playmates; some do look quite similar, if you’re not paying attention.  They usually don’t take well to Fonzie’s “requests” to play–not that I blame them, as he enjoys the pounce method of asking.  Luckily Fonzie isn’t a super-alpha type, and will easily back down the instant somebody gives him what-for when he Bothers Them.

He seems to have some of the most interesting sleep poses!  He could probably sleep through an explosion, too, so long as you don’t pick him up–in which case he simply shifts around to hug you, and if you don’t hold him very still, playtime begins again.


Meow’za is a short-haired black house cat with green eyes, born in 2003.

She came to us after she’d been hit by a car.  She was only maybe four to five weeks old, and an owner was never found–she was probably a stray.  The lady who rescued her took her to a veterinary hospital that was considerably over-priced, and quite obviously more concerned with their profit than the care of the creatures brought to them.  They’d wanted this good Samaritan to fork over more than three thousand dollars to perform surgery on the kitten, whose hip was broken in three places.  A set of the most horrible x-rays we’d ever seen, a poorly bandaged leg (the bandage extended to twice the length of the kitten’s leg!) and a single night’s stay had our friend’s bill already over eight hundred dollars–all for rescuing a stray!

We once had a cat who had to be “re-plumbed” (a male with very serious urinary tract problems, who needed surgery to basically become female in that one area–or else be put down) that only cost us nine hundred dollars–total, that’s surgery plus medicine and further checkups!

We were completely scandalized, and insisted our friend let us deal with the kitten from then on.  Our veterinarian re-bandaged the kitten’s leg properly, gave us pain medication for her, and restrained herself from saying things inappropriate for polite company over the atrocious excuses for x-rays.  She said surgery was not necessary; the kitten’s bones would heal just fine on their own, (and fourteen years later the cat has no problems).  After two more visits, our veterinarian bill (with our serious multiple-cat discount!) was a total of about $57.

At one point early on, as her leg had Meow’za pretty much incapacitated–we even had to hold her upright in the litter box!–we got creative, and put together a little wheeled cart-type thing of duct tape, dowels and casters for her to use to get around.  It even had a little “seat belt” so she wouldn’t pop out of it.  Not exactly the most artistic of creations, but she seemed to like it.  She could zip around in it pretty quickly!

She’s doing just fine now.  As a matter of fact, she’s doing better than some of our other cats, who have never had a serious injury (that we know of).  Once her hip had healed, we kept finding her balancing on the top edge of doors!

The Man Who Gave Himself Ear Mites

We found something interesting in a cat book once.  Apparently, ear mites can be transmitted from cat to human ears–if you try hard enough!

The Man Who Gave Himself Ear Mites

Yes, someone really gave himself ear mites to prove that people could catch them from cats.  But it’s not a problem for the average person, because he had to work hard to get the infection established, and then he didn’t treat it.

It was indeed an unpleasant experience for him.  He continually heard scratching and moving sounds in his ear and suffered from itching and pain.  Eventually, it died down on its own.

For this sacrifice, he received not the Nobel Prize but the Ignoble Prize.  Plus his “accomplishment” ended up in the veterinary textbooks–and in some…silly stunt…books as well.

The symptoms for ear mites in people are probably similar to the ones for cats; holding your head to one side, shaking it, scratching your ears, and finding dark specks in there.  If you have these symptoms, check your cat.

The Cat Person’s Multiplication Table

This is a cute little verse about how you can find yourself collecting cats without realizing you’re doing it.  It’s been around for years, I’ve seen framed versions for sale in stores as well as seeing it passed around the internet in several places:

The Cat Person’s Multiplication Table

One cat needs a friend

so then you have two.

Somehow a third comes along

and what can you do?


The fourth was so sad-eyed

and needed a home

But when you picked her up

her sister came along.


The neighbor moved out

and guess what–left the cat!

How can people abandon

a sweetheart like that!!


The kind elderly lady

down the block passed away

She left you her darling

Now he has to stay.


People always find you

bringing sad stories and strays

You say “No, I can’t!”

But in the end, the cat stays.


You’re a bona fide Cat Person

A huge heart and veterinarian bill

You swear you’re getting rid of them all!

(But, of course, you never will.)


This is a view of our enclosed outside cat pen, from May 1, 2016.  Note the avian serenade…::sigh::  The little feather-dusters get too enthusiastic when the sun comes up, I swear they’re enough to wake the dead! They do provide great entertainment for the felines, though.  Especially the few overly brave feather-heads who come down and land in the pen–those tend to migrate into the house as rather messy snacks, unfortunately.  We’ve learned that we unfortunately can’t do anything for the little birds once they’re caught; the poor things die of shock, even if they’re otherwise unharmed.

Towards the end of this shippet, the white cat descending from the apple tree is Fonzerelli Fuzzlenuts, who was just barely one year old here.  Kronan is the black & white cat sitting in the grass observing him.

How To Give Your Cat A Pill

This is an oldie but REALLY goodie, with a LOT of truth to it!  We’ve seen this one in several places.  I don’t know who first came up with it, be there was certainly a lot of personal experience involved!

How To Give Your Cat A Pill

Pick your cat up and cradle her in the crook of your left arm as though holding a baby.  Position your right forefinger and thumb on either side of your cat’s mouth, and gently apply pressure to her cheeks.  When your cat opens up, pop the pill into her mouth.  Your cat will then close her mouth and swallow.

Retrieve the pill from the floor, and the cat from behind the sofa.  Repeat the process.

Retrieve your cat from your bedroom, and throw the soggy pill away.

Remove a second pill from the foil wrap, cradle your cat in your left arm while holding her rear paws tightly with your left hand.  Force her jaws open and push the pill to the back of her throat with your forefinger.  Hold mouth shut for a count of 10, if you are able.  Hold your cat’s mouth closed as well.

Retrieve the pill from the goldfish bowl and your cat from the top of your wardrobe.  Call for assistance.

Kneel on the floor with your cat wedged firmly between your knees, immobilizing her front and rear paws.  Ask your assistant to hold the cat’s head firmly with one hand while forcing a wooden ruler into her throat.  Flick the pill down the ruler with a forefinger, and rub the cat’s throat.

Retrieve the cat from the living room curtain valance.

Carefully sweep shattered figurines from the hearth, and set aside for later gluing.  Remove a third pill from the foil wrap.

Wrap the cat in a beach towel and ask your assistant to lie prone on the cat, with her head visible under the assistant’s armpit.  Put the pill in the end of a paper tube you’ve made for this purpose.  Then, force the cat’s mouth open with a pencil, and blow.

Check the label to make sure the pill is not lethal to humans.  Sip water to take the taste away.  Apply a bandage to your assistant’s forearm, and remove the blood from the carpet.

Retrieve the cat from the neighbor’s roof.  Remove a fourth pill from the foil.  Place the cat in a cupboard, and close the door on the cat with her neck and head still outside cupboard.  Force her mouth open with a dessert spoon.  Flick the pill down her throat with a rubber band.

Fetch a screwdriver from the garage and put the cupboard door back on its hinges.  Apply a cold compress to your cheek and check your medical records for the date of your last tetanus shot.  Throw your bloodied T-shirt away and fetch another from the bedroom.

Apologize to the neighbor who crashed into a fence while swerving to avoid a cat.

Call 911, ask the fire department to retrieve a cat from a tree.

Remove remaining pill from the foil wrap.

Tie your cat’s front paws to her rear paws with garden twine and securely tie to leg of dining table.  Put on heavy-duty pruning gloves.  Force the cat’s mouth open with a tire iron.  Drop the pill, previously hidden in one ounce of raw hamburger, into the cat’s mouth.  Hold her head vertically with the nose pointed to the ceiling, and pour one-half pint of water down the cat’s throat, and two jiggers of whisky down your own.

Ask your assistant to drive you to the emergency room.  Sit quietly while the doctor administers anesthetic, stitches your fingers and forearm, and removes pill remnants from your eye.

Drop off the cat, along with a generous donation, at an animal shelter, and adopt a gold fish.

A Cat’s Ten Commandments

This is our version of “The Cat’s Ten Commandments”:

  1. Thou shalt not jump, nor flop over onto the keyboard when thy human is on the computer; nor attempt to catch the mouse icon running around on the screen.
  2. Thou shalt not grab the end of the toilet paper and run off into the hall, down the stairs, and across the living room at full speed.
  3. Thou shalt not project hairballs from the top of the refrigerator; nor from the high shelving; and definitely not onto the furniture.
  4. Thou shalt not sit in front of the television as if thou art invisible.
  5. Thou shalt not jump onto thy sleeping human’s bladder, nor dance a foxtrot on their kidneys, at any time of the night, or day.
  6. Thou shalt not play with thy bell-toy in the bathtub; nor sing loudly in the bedroom doorway; nor attempt to violently rearrange the furniture with thy friends at 3 A.M. in the morning.
  7. Thou shalt not wind about thy human’s legs, even if they are walking too slowly; nor climb up their legs with full claws extended, just because they aren’t paying thee enough attention.
  8. Thou shalt not open the bathroom door when there are guests in thy house, no matter how proud thou art that thee canst manage to turn that doorknob.
  9. Thou shalt not jump onto the toilet seat just as thy human is sitting down on it.
  10. Thou shalt at least attempt to show remorse when being scolded.


Neelix is a short-haired brown tiger male, with a sweet disposition–if a bit on the “alpha” side.

We brought him in from the barn in sub-zero weather one winter in the late ’90’s.  He crawled right into Mom’s lap when she went up into the hayloft looking for him, after we hadn’t seen him for a couple days.  We had no idea he was that tame!  He was starving to death, someone had apparently dumped him, and he found his way to our property.

He was a big help in cat-proofing our outdoor enclosure to prevent a feline Houdini from escaping.  It took nearly three years before we had the fence perfected so he couldn’t get out!  The little stinker was smart; he knew very well when we were watching him.  He’s the reason we added two feet of chicken wire (later changed to hardware cloth, with 1/4″ squares) to the top of our six foot fence, angled inwards at a forty-five degree angle, for instance.  We nearly re-named him “Spider-Cat” when we first him going straight up the wire.  He got onto our roof, one time!  Sheesh.

The day we finally got the better of him with the fence, he howled like his heart was breaking for three hours straight.  Then he sulked for the rest of the summer!  After that, Mom usually took pity on him during the summers and would let him out while she was working on the landscaping.   He was usually pretty good about giving her a “fly-by”–racing by her at top speed, to let her know he was near, without risking her taking him inside before he was ready.  He was usually going out to the barn to hunt up mice and sparrows, then he’d bring them back and munch on them under a convenient shrub about fifteen feet where she was working.  Occasionally he’d be reluctant to come in when she called, just before supper.  He figured out real quick that she’d then keep him indoors for a week straight, after a stunt like that; if he wanted to go out the next day, he had to get his little tail inside when she called “In!”

In 2016, Neelix started really looking his age of 19 years; he was starting to be hard to keep eating, he began dehydrating frequently; then bad diarrhea became a real problem, along with vomiting.  On top of that, he had the feline version of a bad cold, poor baby.  We were getting really concerned about the possible start of organ failure, but he pulled through, and with the help of a daily half slice of cheese the diarrhea has gone away.  By Spring of 2017 he merely had a bit of a sniffle.  He still needs hydrating every couple weeks, but our veterinarian taught me how to do that years ago, and keeps us supplied with bags and such as we need them.  Neelix is nowhere near as active as he used to be, which is entirely understandable, considering he’s the feline equivalent of in his nineties!

It’s finally up!

It’s finally online! We hope somebody and their cat(s) will be helped by all of the information compiled here–or at least entertained by the cute little pictures! The Kitti-forms were all scribbled by yours truly, “Brainicat”.  Feel free to leave a comment!