They look at me with such trust in their eyes, these kittens and cats who have endured more than they should already. I don’t want to let them down. They require individual homes where their basic needs are met and they are loved and cared for by tender-hearted people.

Regardless of their color, these creatures are special. Folks who shy away from my black kittens only deserve my contempt. To think that these beautiful, sleek, elegant creatures can command the universe to deliver a boatload of bad luck is such hogwash.

Over the group reigns Hurricane Charlie- my most Alpha of them all and also my smallest cat. He is almost two years old now and has never grown very tall or very wide. One thing you can say about my cats; none of them are fat. But Charlie is stunted by early abuse and will remain the size of a small kitten his entire life. His right eye is completely blocked by an ulcerated pupil and he sees the world differently from the others I am sure.

His favorite perches are always high- the top of the pantry closet, on top of the refrigerator where he will drop spices on Gretchen when she runs by. I swear he winks at me when I go in to pick up his ammunition and put it back. He is so onery.

This winter, so far he has ruined one raincoat and a sweater. They were innocent victims just hanging around on the hall hook. His lastest game is to leap up in the air with front claws extended and snag the zipper pull, or the drawstrings of coats. My favorite black sweater isn’t fit for an elephant to wear right now. He has snagged it so many times the sweater’s shape has long been lost. I tucked it the garbage the other day with regret.

Hope went to stay with a wonderful lady but she came back in a week. Not because she wasn’t instantly loved and accepted, but the owner of the home forbade the renter to have any more cats. They already have three. Hope is eating and thriving and she has merged with the clowder which is right now more of a herd. Mike says that every place he looks in the house, it is occupied by cats and he is right. I am sure my step-kids are thinking that Dad really married a crazy lady just about now.

Baker got into a scuffle the other day outside and is now an inside kitty. he lost all his whiskers and most of the skin on his right side of his face, plus the whiskers on his legs. Did you know cats have whiskers on their legs? They do indeed- these whiskers are crucial in hunting. They allow the cat to keep track of their prey as they hunt. Whatever Baker hunted, hunted right back! The vet says he is lucky- it could have been so much worse. Mike wants to call him Lopsided now but I won’t allow it.

I’ve been sick for the New Year’s not a good way to ring in the New Year. The cats were constantly seeking my lap and chest, but I couldn’t handle their presence. I slept with the light on for two days because of the mad dash to the bathroom between the obstacle course of tails and paws. I am a bit better now but one thing remained quite clear during this bug invasion- Mike is no longer able to provide for this group when I cannot. That makes me sad-

I don’t want to let these cats down, they trust me to do the right thing by them and I will do my best. I will find loving homes for them or they will stay here with us and be looked after to the best of my capability. Mike’s capabilities have regretably failed.