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Fred and Wilma's great adventure

It's a sunny, though chilly day at the farmette. Haven't got all my yard cleanup done, and doubt if I'll be doing it - soooo wet and cold. Oh, well, I'll call it 'winter interest' - that's the ticket.


I wasn't going to do another cat post - it's kinda getting creepy - but Fred had other ideas. He made his way immediately to my lap as I sat down at the computer as if to say, yep, I'm your topic.

Who am I to resist? Look at that face.


It was two years ago almost to the day that he and Wilma showed up outside our garage. I was stringing Christmas lights above the deck, and Rob was tinkering with something in the garage. He came out and saw a wee tortoiseshell kitten eating suet that had fallen from the lump we string up for the woodpeckers. She was sooo hungry and sooo frightened. One won out over the other.


Fred, on the other hand, sauntered up to Rob and stuck his paws onto his leg as if to say, you're taking me in, right? He followed Rob to the neighbour's, where Joanne said that they weren't kittens from her feral feline colony.

Anyhow, we couldn't bring them into the house right away because we had no idea what kinds of bugs and diseases they might spread to Beatrix, Hobbes and Calvin.

They were a bit of a mess, as you can see.


After losing Wilma to the roof rafters of the toolshed for half a day, tearing the place apart and having to wrestle her down to get her into the cat cage, we set them both up in the woodworking shop with a heat lamp to keep them warm.

The two of them couldn't be more different. Fred's been chill since the beginning. We nicknamed him 'little Lebowsky'. Wilma was all claws and teeth and terror and she is still pretty skittish, but getting her spayed calmed her down considerably. She even likes a good head petting. The weird thing is that neither of them has a proper meow. Fred tries, with a strangled, breathy noise and Wilma squeaks.


After being checked over by the vet, de-fleaed and fixed up, we put them in the upstairs bedroom where certain orange felines held vigil at the closed door, wanting to find out what was so interesting behind it?


Gradually, eventually, they were allowed into the main population where they have made themselves extremely comfortable. Fred has become my office assistant and Wilma is queen of the plastic-spring chase.


While we did not ask for them, and we certainly weren't looking for more pets, now, we wouldn't have it any other way. Until next week.