Weeks passed since the storm rumbled through and Ginger entered our lives soaked to the skin, wounded, and bleeding. The vet did the blood work making sure the kitten did not have feline leukemia or aids so it could stay with us and not put our other elderly kitties in jeopardy. Ginger snuggled in quite nicely in the cat carrier in my mediation room. We put a baby gat on the door so the other cats could jump in if they wanted to visit but the kitten could not get out, thus keeping it somewhat confined during its recuperation.
Perry Winkle never far from my side seemed the most interested in the kitten. He did not really play with it but would follow it around when it dove under the couch; Perry would peek under to see where it went only to jump backward when the kitten would pounce out at him in return. Being 14 Perry would give him and indignant look and stalk off as if insulted, only to find a higher spot to watch the foolishness of the kitten with an amused expression of distaste.
Lillie likes to pretend there is no new kitten at all in the house; after all, she is the kitten in the house. She may soon be 13 years old but she is the kitten and in her mind always will be. Her first reaction was to dash right past and lie with her back to it and then only briefly peek over her shoulder now and again and then look at me as if to say I see nothing, nothing at all. Since then she refuses to enter the meditation room at all.
Rosie hated the kitten at first sight and went out of her way to try and cause issues. We did not know at the time how much pain she was in but have since taken her to the vets as we noticed how she was walking. Rosie was our eldest cat. The vet recommended we put her to sleep as her left hip was distorted badly and the arthritics in her neck made it impossible for her to clean herself any longer. Much to our heart break we helped Rosie cross the rainbow bridge last night. Rosie was Steve's cat. He found her 9 years ago under a rose bush. She had been nearly strangled to death. she was so emaciated she looked like a kitten, and all her nails had been cut so short she was bleeding from all of them. Rosie came to live in my home when Steve moved in and did not like anyone but Steve. In the last 4 years she learned to trust more people as I would not let her run my house. She lived at least 9 good years; she will be missed.
We took Ginger to the vets also yesterday as her wound needed tending. The one on her belly looked much better but the one on her tail looked horrible. The vet and I talked and we decided she needed to have half of her tail amputated. So I left Ginger at the vets and picked her up later that same day. When I came to pick Ginger up I brought my daughter and my husband with me as I had a question which we had been debating as a family since Ginger came to live with us. It had been the two of them against me and I needed and professional to make the decision. The debate was about the gender of GINGER.
I say Ginger is a BOY.
Steve and Adriane say Ginger is a girl, thus the name Ginger.
Guess what........ I was correct... Ginger is no longer called Ginger... He is now named Dusty Miller after the flower Dusty Miller. Or Dusty for Short.
You will find pictures of him on my profile.