My Oliver

I really was not in the market for another cat. I had just about had my fill of them to tell you the truth. My cats were getting older; Rusty, Claude, Max and Abbey. Then, one evening when I just arrived home from work, I hear the sounds of a loud, distraught kitten meowing from my backyard. I immediately looked out back to see what was going on and I saw the cutest, tiniest little red kitten wandering around on my patio. I opened the door and he ran like the wind over the fence. Still, I could hear his cries. This was clearly a case of a baby being lost from his mother. I felt he would reconnect with her sooner or later, hopefully, sooner. In a few short minutes, he was back on the patio. I tried to grab him but he ran the other direction. Then, suddenly, the meowing stops. He found his mom or his home and I was so glad. I would not have to worry about that little guy again. Wrong! In a couple of weeks, Emily, the little red baby's mother began bringing him around. They looked so cute together. This was really my first experience with Emily. I think Oliver was her first baby. She only had the one kitten and she looked very young herself. She was a good mom. She watched attentively over him. She would let him climb all over her and bite and kick like the babies do. Then one day, Emily was gone. Not hide nor hair was to be seen of her. Just the little Oliver remained. He would come up on my patio and look in the window at me. I would see him outside playing with rocks and pieces of grass just improvising toys. He was so small. What else could I do but make sure he had water and food? When I would go outside to give him supper, he would cautiously walk toward me. I could set his food down and he would let me sit by him while he ate. After doing this routine for a few days while he was eating, I picked him up. He purred and purred. HE LIKED ME! I just hated leaving the small ball of fluff outside. Some nights it was cold and I worried about the little fellow. After I would go inside, he would head off to the fence where he had located a safe place to sleep. All I had to do to retrieve him was open the back door and his little head would pop up over the fence at the noise of the door opening. He would look to see if his 'girl' was there. This went on for awhile until one night it came a hail storm. I so worried about the little Oliver. I was afraid he would be hit by a speeding hail ball. I told myself that if he survived the hailstorm that I would make him mine. I think it is obvious by his picture that he survived and he is mine! He is Nigel's half brother. As mischeivious as Nigel is, Oliver makes up for it by being as sweet. Plus, there is a bit of affection transference going on with the red Nigel and red Oliver from my old boy, red Rusty who passed shortly after Oliver's adoption. Everything I felt for my Russ, I transferred over to my Nige and Oliver. They have my sweet Russ to thank for their new home. ~Cindy