Franklin was a Very Sweet Kitty
Fifteen years ago this month I was still living with Mr. S and Pearl the dog, in the big house on the same property I live on now. I had never been a cat person until I moved in with Mr. S a few years before that and met his cat Mouser. Up until then I'd never had the chance to know a nice cat that who had been raised by a loving person. I'd only met cats with crappy attitudes who would as soon eat your face off as get petted. But Mouser was great. He was everything a cat should be. He was loving and sweet and snuggly but also independent and had a fantastic attitude. But Mouser was old when I moved in so I didn't have much time with him.
Then, one day, a friend of ours brought us a tiny kitten, just about eight weeks old and asked us to take him in. He was the last kitten in the litter that she had rescued from being drowned in a sack in the Clark Fork River by a very bad man. The others had all found homes, including the one she was keeping, but this one last kitty needed a home. We were reluctant. We weren't sure we were ready for another cat yet, but in the end, there was really no resisting the adorableness of that tiny orange kitten with blue eyes. Sadly I don't have pictures of baby Frank to share with you, so this will have to do.
I'd never been around kittens much before. I'd only been around puppies and was NOT excited about the kitty version of toilet training. Little did I know! I hadn't had any idea how easy it is to litterbox train a cat. After we ran out & got kitty supplies, Mr. S put the little kitten into the litterbox, scratched his little paw in the sand and that was that. The kitty knew exactly what to do!
With the onerous task of catbox training out of the way, we went on to more important things like deciding on a name for our new friend and introducing him to Pearl the dog. It took us a while, but we decided to name our kitty Frank after Frank Sinatra, because his eyes had remained blue for a lot longer than we expected them to so we thought they'd stay that way. Of course, it turns out we'd estimated wrong and his eyes changed, but the name stayed.
Frank grew into a very handsome cat, indeed. But he never got over being terrified of strangers. About a year later, we were adopted by another kitty (she'll get her own story at some point) and Frank got a "sister" or a "roommate" that we named Rachael after the character in Blade Runner.
After I moved out of Mr. S's house, at some point it was decided that I should do the pet-sitting when Mr. S and eventually the future Mrs. S were away, so that Frank could get some love, since I was one of the very few people who could get anywhere near him. So even though I didn't live with Frank and Rachael anymore, I was able to spend quality time with them a few times each year, and also see them when I visited Mr. and Mrs. S.
Eventually I learned that Frank would have a much easier time adjusting to his people being out of town if I went to spend time with him as soon as possible after their departure. Often times we would play a game where I would follow him around the house for a few minutes until he would get into his cat tree and let me pet him. And one day I made a fairly hilarious deduction about Frank.
After our slow chase around the house, he got up in his cat tree and I started to pet him. Something about this was unsatisfactory to him and he kept making this half meow half "meh" complaint sound, but he made no move to get away, so I didn't think I was petting him in a way that felt unpleasant. After a few minutes of mocking his "meh" sound I started petting him with both hands and he stopped! So I took one hand away and he started up again. Both hands: no "meh". One hand, "meh". That damned cat was just NOT satisfied with a single hand petting! So from that time on, he generally got two handed pettings whenever I was visiting.
I would generally also spend some time in the TV room while cat sitting, and after a while he would come in and get snuggles. The sooner after Mr. and Mrs. S's departure that I could get him to hang out and snuggle me, the better his attitude would be the whole time they were gone. Frank was a very lovey cat, but also nervous and terrified of strangers.
This past Monday I received a call from Mr. S asking if I could meet him outside of my work, so I did. It turns out that Frank had some sort of major health event during the night. After bundling little Z off to her daycare, Mr. S got our vet (her business is house calls) over as quick as he could. She thought that Frank may have had a stroke or a heart attack during the night, and it was his time. I'm told, by Mr. S that before our vet gave him the shot, Mr. S gave Frank lots of love and got him to purr.
I remember when Frank was a baby and he purred like a normal cat, but somehow, when we got him neutered, he forgot to purr after that for the longest time. He wasn't unhappy, he just didn't purr. Then, after Rachael moved in, he learned to purr again, but it was a much softer purr that you really had to listen for. I'm glad he learned to purr again, though.
I'm going to miss Frank. He was the first pet I raised from babyhood and will always be special to me. And I'm sad for Rachael. She must be lonely now, without her friend. Little Z is a bit too young to really understand, but still, I'm sure she misses the kitty too. And I know Mr. and Mrs. S miss him a lot, too.
I've been giving my kitties, Jules and Vincent extra loves. They don't know why, but they sure don't mind. And I think unrulynarrator's cats, Carrot and Radish are getting extra loves too. If you've met Radish, Radish's chatter sounds a lot like Frank's complaint sound that he made when I wasn't petting him with enough hands. Cats are funny.
And finally, here is my very favorite picture I ever took of Frank. He's such a pretty cat.
Goodbye Frankenstein. I miss you.
Then, one day, a friend of ours brought us a tiny kitten, just about eight weeks old and asked us to take him in. He was the last kitten in the litter that she had rescued from being drowned in a sack in the Clark Fork River by a very bad man. The others had all found homes, including the one she was keeping, but this one last kitty needed a home. We were reluctant. We weren't sure we were ready for another cat yet, but in the end, there was really no resisting the adorableness of that tiny orange kitten with blue eyes. Sadly I don't have pictures of baby Frank to share with you, so this will have to do.
I'd never been around kittens much before. I'd only been around puppies and was NOT excited about the kitty version of toilet training. Little did I know! I hadn't had any idea how easy it is to litterbox train a cat. After we ran out & got kitty supplies, Mr. S put the little kitten into the litterbox, scratched his little paw in the sand and that was that. The kitty knew exactly what to do!
With the onerous task of catbox training out of the way, we went on to more important things like deciding on a name for our new friend and introducing him to Pearl the dog. It took us a while, but we decided to name our kitty Frank after Frank Sinatra, because his eyes had remained blue for a lot longer than we expected them to so we thought they'd stay that way. Of course, it turns out we'd estimated wrong and his eyes changed, but the name stayed.
Frank grew into a very handsome cat, indeed. But he never got over being terrified of strangers. About a year later, we were adopted by another kitty (she'll get her own story at some point) and Frank got a "sister" or a "roommate" that we named Rachael after the character in Blade Runner.
After I moved out of Mr. S's house, at some point it was decided that I should do the pet-sitting when Mr. S and eventually the future Mrs. S were away, so that Frank could get some love, since I was one of the very few people who could get anywhere near him. So even though I didn't live with Frank and Rachael anymore, I was able to spend quality time with them a few times each year, and also see them when I visited Mr. and Mrs. S.
Eventually I learned that Frank would have a much easier time adjusting to his people being out of town if I went to spend time with him as soon as possible after their departure. Often times we would play a game where I would follow him around the house for a few minutes until he would get into his cat tree and let me pet him. And one day I made a fairly hilarious deduction about Frank.
After our slow chase around the house, he got up in his cat tree and I started to pet him. Something about this was unsatisfactory to him and he kept making this half meow half "meh" complaint sound, but he made no move to get away, so I didn't think I was petting him in a way that felt unpleasant. After a few minutes of mocking his "meh" sound I started petting him with both hands and he stopped! So I took one hand away and he started up again. Both hands: no "meh". One hand, "meh". That damned cat was just NOT satisfied with a single hand petting! So from that time on, he generally got two handed pettings whenever I was visiting.
I would generally also spend some time in the TV room while cat sitting, and after a while he would come in and get snuggles. The sooner after Mr. and Mrs. S's departure that I could get him to hang out and snuggle me, the better his attitude would be the whole time they were gone. Frank was a very lovey cat, but also nervous and terrified of strangers.
This past Monday I received a call from Mr. S asking if I could meet him outside of my work, so I did. It turns out that Frank had some sort of major health event during the night. After bundling little Z off to her daycare, Mr. S got our vet (her business is house calls) over as quick as he could. She thought that Frank may have had a stroke or a heart attack during the night, and it was his time. I'm told, by Mr. S that before our vet gave him the shot, Mr. S gave Frank lots of love and got him to purr.
I remember when Frank was a baby and he purred like a normal cat, but somehow, when we got him neutered, he forgot to purr after that for the longest time. He wasn't unhappy, he just didn't purr. Then, after Rachael moved in, he learned to purr again, but it was a much softer purr that you really had to listen for. I'm glad he learned to purr again, though.
I'm going to miss Frank. He was the first pet I raised from babyhood and will always be special to me. And I'm sad for Rachael. She must be lonely now, without her friend. Little Z is a bit too young to really understand, but still, I'm sure she misses the kitty too. And I know Mr. and Mrs. S miss him a lot, too.
I've been giving my kitties, Jules and Vincent extra loves. They don't know why, but they sure don't mind. And I think unrulynarrator's cats, Carrot and Radish are getting extra loves too. If you've met Radish, Radish's chatter sounds a lot like Frank's complaint sound that he made when I wasn't petting him with enough hands. Cats are funny.
And finally, here is my very favorite picture I ever took of Frank. He's such a pretty cat.
Goodbye Frankenstein. I miss you.