Kate & Jack:  Jack

Born:  July 2005
Gender:  Male
Type:  Domestic Shorthair
Coloring:  Black & White Tuxedo
Origin of Name:  The character of Jack from "Lost"
Nicknames:  Jackie, Jackrabbit, Jackadoodle, Jackers, Jack Flash, Jackie Blue, Jack-Jack, Jackaroo
Unique Habits/Characteristics:   Tilts head when you talk to him; loves sitting in       sink; loves playing with water; enjoys trying to trip up his Mom; almost matches Arthur in athletic ability
Diseases/Illnesses:  None 

Jack came to me as part of a pair, along with his sister Kate .  It was pretty clear by this point that word had gotten around in the neighborhood that I was the neighborhood "Crazy Cat Lady".  Unlike with Arthur, however, no one asked ahead this time.

It was a lazy September or early October afternoon, and Richard had run out to the grocery story to pick up a few things (interestingly, one of the things he ended up getting was a book about cats for me).  He was gone maybe 15 minutes.  I was inside, and heard absolutely nothing going on outside.

Richard came in and said "Uh, do you know there are two kittens on the front porch?"

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, and ran outside to see what in the world he was talking about.

And there they were:  two teeny little kittens, really not quite grown enough to be away from mama cat, in a mid-size cat carrier, with a baby blanket.  One was a teeny tuxedo, and the other a little orange-and-white cat.

To say I was infuriated at whatever moron decided to dump these two little babies on my doorstep is like saying I'm mildy uncomfortable watching stories on TV about animal abuse.  I wanted to wring the neck of whatever idiot jerk decided to just dump these kittens on me.  I suppose at least it's good they brought them to me, instead of just dumping them onto the street or worse.

And they were adorable.  They looked up at me with great curiosity, seemingly nonplussed in spite of their situation at the time.

I had a fairly good idea where they came from.  The idjit neighbors across the street had long ago moved, but they'd already managed to get two of their kittens to me (Arthur and Morganna/Tallulah), and I assumed they were idjits to the point of not listening to me and getting their cats spayed.  So it made sense that grandma cat, or mama cat, or kitten had more kittens.  And hey, they knew someplace to take them, right?

I asked Animal-Abusing neighbor #1's child, who referred me to her mother.  Her mother claimed a woman had left them, and gave me a vague description.  I didn't believe a word of it.  I'm sure she knew who had done it, but she was not about to tell me the truth.

So if I am right, the genealogy goes something like this:  Gramma Cat gave birth to White Cat, who gave birth to White Kitten.  Gramma Cat got pregnant again, and gave birth to Arthur and Morganna.  Then either Gramma Cat, White Cat, or White Kitten got pregnant, and gave birth to Jack and Kate.  This makes Arthur Jack and Kate 's uncle, half-brother, or step-grandfather.  I think.

My anger did me no good.  What else could I do but bring them in, and either try to get them into a shelter, find homes for them, or keep them?

They stayed in the carrier until I could arrange all the usual things:  de-fleaing, de-miting and de-worming; tests for feline leukemia; vaccinations and spaying and neutering.  They were so tiny, the carrier was a huge house for them, so they were not uncomfortable.

At first, I thought they were both boys, so they were dubbed Jack and Locke (both characters from one of my favorite television shows, "Lost").  But upon closer inspection, "Locke" turned out to be female, so she became "Kate " instead.

They were totally funny to watch as they began to grow.  Being brother and sister, they were used to playing by smacking the hell out of each other, rolling around with each other, chasing each other.  Kate was clearly the leader, and Jack followed.

They appeared to be so bonded that one thing was clear to me:  if I found them a home, they would have to go as a twosome.  Unfortunately, I had the same kind of luck finding a home for them as I usually do.  The best I could find was a "maybe" from a pet store worker, and somebody my pharmacy put me in touch with who hadn't been happy with a male cat she adopted, so she returned him and wanted a female.  Sure, that's the kind of person I really want to adopt to.  <sarcasm off>

I really should have known better, anyway.  The first time I got them inside and picked Jack up, he looked into my eyes.  I fell in love immediately.  Those big, questioning eyes just stole my heart.  I knew he was going to turn out to be a little stinker, but I also knew he was a little love, too.

Jack was clearly the runt in terms of the two.  And like Arthur , Jack apparently decided he wasn't too interested in growing up, so he ate very little, no matter how hard I tried to encourage him.  At this writing, close to age 3, he is still a little guy.

And yes, he is one little stinker.  He doesn't know the meaning of the word "no", and he loves water, so the squirt bottle doesn't really dissuade him from anything.  He doesn't care if he gets wet.  He'll sit in the sink, hang out in the bathtub, get his paws wet and absolutely not care.  Water fascinates him.  I call both Kate and Jack my "water babies".

Shadow is turning out to be a water baby as well, and Jack has been teaching Shadow how to get into mischief.  That's all I need!  Jack managed to teach Shadow how to get on top of the refrigerator and break into a bag of tortilla chips.  Little stinker.

He cracks me up sometimes, too.  Especially if he is sitting on the cat furniture upstairs and I come out of the bedroom, he'll look at me, and turn his head around (known in the cat group as "upside-downy head") while I do the same and say "Hi, Jackie!" in a high-pitched voice.  He'll switch to the other side, and so will I.  It's just plain funny.

Jack is also known on the cat group as "It's All Jack's Fault".  He does tend to like trouble, so it's an appropriate attachment to his name, I think.  He got it one day last year, when I was walking toward the kitchen.  He was wrapping himself around my feet, being lovey, but being not too bright to do so with a moving target.  Of course, I lost my balance.  And promptly stepped into a cat bowl.  And then promptly started to fall.  And then promptly grabbed the doorframe to avoid falling, twisting my body around in some bizarre way that managed to shatter my pelvis and break my tailbone.  I still don't understand how that happened, but it did.  And it was all Jack's fault.

I've had to go on pain meds and walk with a cane ever since.  At least I didn't break any of Jack 's bones.  But he sure caused me a lot of pain and trouble!  He didn't mean to, and when I look into that beautiful little wide-eyed face, how can I not love him?

He loves to play, but he also gets too rough with some of the other cats who aren't used to it.  Jack's used to playing rough with his Sissy (Kate ), but most of the other guys aren't too thrilled with his way of playing.  Lately, he has seemed to realize that maybe a good game of chase-me throughout the apartment is a better way to play and make friends of the other cats.  And that boy can chase!  And run.

So far, Jack has had no medical problems whatsoever, thank heavens.  He is way too small in my opinion, but I guess that's just the size he wanted to be, and he is most definitely not underfed.  He eats his share, although it may be smaller than most of the others.  And he has energy to burn.

Jack is my Bad Boy, and I adore his antics and him.

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