The story of Skitter

Today's guest blogger is Mike Williams.  Mike is the author of 'Snowed In'.  If you're interested in this book, you will find the link to his Smashwords page at the end of this blog post.

Mike once had a cat called Skitter.  Judging from his story, Skitter was quite an interesting feline.

Skitter was the smallest adult cat I've ever known. By most standards, he was about the size of a six month old kitten. Someone had a litter of all black kittens and my room mate and I decided to take one.

It didn't take long and we knew Skitter was different. He'd suddenly stand up on his hind legs and fight with invisible foes for minutes at a time. During the battle, you'd see him dodge and duck and box, crouch down and stalk and leap up to swipe at nothing. Then, just as suddenly as it started, he would sit down and lick his tail, looking as unperturbed as if he'd just awoken from a nap.


We would swear he could turn himself invisible. One minute he'd be there, the next he was gone and no amount of looking or calling for him would reveal his presence. He never disappeared when we were looking, you'd glance away and look back and there he was. Gone. Later, he would reappear in a "frantic room run."

A "frantic room run" started at any piece of furniture. He'd jump up on it and race at full speed around the room, using only the furniture as a traveling lane. That included the couch back, chairs (and anyone sitting in them), end tables and the fireplace mantle. There were two very long jumps, the first from the mantle to the next chair and from the chair after that to the couch top. Both jumps were more than six feet. Then he'd stop and lick a paw or his tail, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Skitter loved attention. I've never seen or known a cat that purred so easily. Reach down with one finger, scratch his ear twice and purrrrrrrr....

We played stretch the kitty, his favorite form of attention. He'd jump into your lap and roll over on his back. We'd grap his front paws in one hand, his back in the other and (gently) stretch him out to full length. Purrrr....

Pick him up, purrrrrrr...

He'd be happy to provide a neck massage. Just drape him over your neck and occasionally scratch his ear. Or his belly. Or his tail. Or anyplace you could reach. The purr motor would start and it was warm and fuzzy and felt like an ultra gentle massage. As long as you didn't move him, he'd continue to massage your neck with his purring.

We had to give Skitter up when my roommate and I moved in different directions. We gave him to a friend and he lived a long, happy life playing "Spirit fight", "stretch the kitty", "disappear on the owner" and "frantic room run".

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/72596

Introductions

Hi, my name in Chanel and welcome to Feline Corner.

I am 12 years old, part Maine Coon, part something else. Don’t ask me what, my father didn’t stick around.

My earliest memory is of an animal shelter where I was adopted when I was six weeks old.
I actually didn’t think that I would get adopted, because I was the ugliest kitten in the shelter. I’m not kidding, I was a scruffy little thing, but I found someone who likes scruffy kittens.

Well, you can read all about my adoption and early life in a book called ‘Kitten Diaries’, which my mom wrote. My adoption mom. It’s an www.amazon.com , costs only $8,00 and proceeds go to an animal shelter.
But enough of me, let me introduce you to my brothers and sister.

This is Charlie.

Charlie is 14 years old and a big log of a cat. He gets along with anybody and everybody and wouldn’t hurt a fly. He spends most of his time napping, but don’t get me wrong, there’s still life in the old geezer.

Next up, Charlotte

 Charlotte is 4 years old a bit of a weird girl. She sleeps in weird places, drinks from the faucet and her preferred toys are aluminum foils balls. You can present her with a store bought toy and she won’t even look at it. Give her an aluminum foil ball though and she plays with it for hours. Or at least until she kicks her ball under one of a chairs.

Next, Mickey

Mickey is 4 years old and hails from Belgium. Mom went over there three years ago for the funeral of her mother and came back with a cat. Mickey quickly adjusted and now he’s one of us. He’s the talker of the family. I’m not kidding, he makes all kinds of weird noises and when someone says something to him, he answers.

Finally, there’s Gabriel.

Gabriel, or as I call him ‘the terrorist’, will soon be 3 years old. Honestly that cat is a nightmare. He has it in for me. Whenever he sees me, he gets that weird look in his eyes and he flattens his ears. Sometimes all he does is looking, but sometimes he jumps on me. I don’t know what that cats’ problem is.

So there you have it. That my family.  I hope you will follow me because lots of things happen around here and I will be introducing some of my friends.  Stories, photos, videos, you'll all find it here at Feline Corner.