Hi, Ebonetta here. Daddy calls me Netty, but Mama calls me Squirrel because she says that when I'm leading her somewhere I look like a little squirrel flicking my tail. I'm looking for a new home, not because mommy and daddy don't love me, but because they are trying to rescue as many starfish as they can, (a whole litter is out there waiting for their turn) and I'm ready for my own place. I wouldn't mind having my brother Onyx with me, he gets scared easier than I do and I could hold his paw, but I'm always up for adventure and I could live without him, as long as I have someone willing to play with me. I get along with dogs and cats, and even babies. I'm clean and not destructive, I've been fixed (though I'm not sure what was broken) and mama always says I have the perfect kitty manners. I do have a big strike against my finding the perfect forever home, though. You see, I used to be a feral kitten. Don't know what a feral is? A feral is a domestic cat, bred to be a house cat but born in the streets. Sometimes our mothers were someone's pet, sometimes it was our grandma, but a feral isn't born in a house. People sometimes call ferals wild cats, but a wild cat is something like a lynx or lion that was never bred to be a house cat. Anyway, the two older cats my mama calls the aunties brought me and my brother to the house we now live in and told us to walk into this little cage for a treat. The door shut, and we were trapped and a few minutes later mommy and daddy came out of the house and carried us inside. I can tell you, we were plenty scared, but the aunties had filled our heads with wondrous stories, and within a very short time, we found out how great snuggles were, and then how fun playsticks are and mousies and even the dogs and cats made great toys for us. Momma says we aren't "instant kitties" and she thinks that if I find a good home, I still will hide for a bit until I know the people I move in with. I think she's wrong about me, though I'm sure my brother will be like that. Me? I'm brave enough to let daddy's grandbaby pull my tail, and I don't even scratch him for that. I can't imagine anything scaring me. I said I had a few strikes against me, and momma says a biggie is that I don't like to sit on laps. I am just not a lap cat. I like to be near you, I like my ears and belly rubbed and if you ignore me, I will pat you to get your attention, but I don't like to sit on laps. I have too good of manners to squirm if you pick me up, but I'll get off as soon as I can. But I think not everyone wants a cat all over them all the time hugging them like my brother does, am I right? It doesn't mean I'm not affectionate or anything, some people don't like to be hugged, some cats don't like laps, that's the way I see it. And speaking of seeing, I keep my eyes open as wide as I can so I can see a gnat move from across the room, not because I'm a nervous Nettie in case you wonder when you see my pictures. I'm always alert for things to go play with.
So, if you can see it in your heart to give a little black kitty like me a forever home, please let my mommy know. She says she won't let me go with just anyone, there are adoption procedures to follow, but I just know you are perfect enough for me, and being perfect, you won't find adoptions hard.
Love, Nettie.
This little boy was caught last night, after midnight August 14th, 2009. Five minutes after we caught him, Chuck held him and I examined him. This morning he was purring for his pictures. Believe it or not, he is actually a feral kitten. He was born in the junkyard across the street. A few weeks ago, we were taking the garbage out, and he was sitting right there on the porch. Behind him were the two spayed cats we call The Aunties, with what can only be called encouraging expressions on their faces. He looked at us a long moment, but decided not to come in at that time, thank you. But he was very curious, raising his neck like E.T. (if you're old enough to remember
the bathroom. Right away, he was looking around and
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