I heart kitties

Everyone knows I love kitties. Well, I've had so many kitty companion animals, so many, that I couldn't tell you how many. I lived at the base of the Hollywood Hills for 10 years of my life. And it's no secret that coyotes and other wildlife live there as well. So I've lost a lot of kitties due to these wild creatures coming down, hungry.

These were the first 10 years of my life, so these animals, were unfortunately just pets, and I don't remember many of them. There was the cat with many names. So many, that I can only remember her first name, Fawn. But there were, like, 15 others.

There was another one, but I'm not sure if this was the one just mentioned. I feel like it wasn't in my life for very long. My grandma was visiting and we were going to go on a walk. I'm not sure why my grandma didn't protest on bringing my cat for the walk, but needless to say, the cat came with us, the indoor cat.... So when a dog barked she scratched me and ran off. I was rather young... We never saw the cat again.

The next one I remember was CoCo. This was some years later I believe. He was huge. Hugest cat I'd ever seen. We had him even through the move, when we moved to Burbank. He lived with us here for awhile, but soon lost interest and ran off. I swear he was living with the family down the street, but they deny that's my cat. If Coco is still alive, he's probably very old.

I've had others since Coco. When he was still around, my mom's co-worker/friend came upon a stray mother and her kittens. Apparently the mother had attacked someone in their apartment building was going to be taken in to be put down. He couldn't let this happen so he swooped in and took them all, and found them all homes. Emily and Spike were two of these kittens that came to live with us. Spike was all Gray and Emily was all Black. This is probably when Coco lost interest.

Emily then had kittens. 5 or 6 of them. All named after friends and crushes from camp at that time. I was 11 yrs old. Come on, give me a break.

The kittens wouldn't leave Emily alone. As kittens do, they want to feed off their mother. Emily couldn't be tied down to this! No sir! She didn't ask for any of this, so she bolted. A few weeks later, she was back. But the kittens still wanted milk. So she was out the door again. They were old enough to be okay with this and survived without her.

That's where Kenny came from, one of Emily's kittens. Our huge fluffy Kenny. He's old now. He's 13. And still angry and mean. And heavier than all hell and wants to be on everyone's lap.

At the age of 16 I found Falcon. A stray. I stole him from some tires in an alley while looking for new hubcaps for my... '62 Ford Falcon. He's all black. And stayed looking like a kitten for some time. Up until maybe 2 years ago. He's filled out and fluffier and meaner. He still runs from a room if someone walks in. Doesn't lick noses anymore either. That was how he woke me up in the morning for several years.

All through out the lives of Kenny and Falcon, Spike was sick. He had caught something at a boarding place while we were on vacation. And he never recovered. There were times when he was fine, just sneezed a lot. And times he'd come home with half his nose bloody from scratching at it all night. But through all this, he lived a very long life. Most of it I'd assume and very happy and full life living at our house and being a member of this family.

So when Spike passed, it broke my heart. I needed to fill that hole with a cat as wonderful as he was. He so dependent on my mother. He had a relationship with her like no other. Kenny and Falcon didn't care like that about us. Spike followed when you called him. He answered you when you asked him questions or spoke to him.

On July 25th I was at the store buying some glucosamine dog treats for Pickles, who is an elderly dog. When I saw her. The cutest white kitten. All by herself. White with two black spots on her eyes and a black tail. I put my finger to the cage and she came running over trying to get me to pet her... needless to say, she came home with me. She and her family were rescues and the rest of her family had been adopted. She'd been there for weeks all by herself.

Her name is Estelle. After Estelle Getty. She's incredibly adorable. Cuddles with me. Licks me. Cries when I leave a room. But she's sick.

My point of writing all this, is other than Spike, we've never had a sick kitty. And some how, Estelle got into something early on and gave her a bacterial infection. I thought it was gone. She was doing good the last few weeks. But this weekend, she got worse. Worse than before! She can't walk. She sleeps where I put her. She's having seizures. I can't even explain to her what's going on.

The bacterial infection spread to her brain. Causing her to spasm uncontrollably. She sleeps in my arms at night and all I can do is hold her tight when this happens. She's so damn cute. I'd do anything for her. She's turned into my Spike. Just like my mom had with him.

She looks at me like I'm her mother. She cries for me to hold her. She cries when she's hungry. And how I'm the only thing keeping her alive. He little kitten life depends on me to do everything for her.

She can't die...