As Bast is one of the Goddesses I try to honor I think it is time I shared the cats she has left in my care, all rescues. And I just love the furry darlings and love to show them off. :D Though truthfully, I came to Bast because cats have always been important to me, since long before I found my spiritual path. I'm still trying to figure out which one might be my familiar. Welcome the seven cats who own me, in order of addition to the household:
First we have Aku, the old lady of the house at about 14 or 15. She's part Scottish Fold and all crabby attitude when I kick her out of my chair. That's what I get for having a pet named after the villian from Samurai Jack Her favorite things to do are eat and sleep. She definitely doesn't care much for the younger cats. She's seen here with Bert the Farting Hippo. We both love watching NCIS. Or I love watching NCIS and she loves sleeping in my lap.
Then I have Willow (named for Buffy's pal) who is a little younger and a lot more bitchy. She's part ragdoll and VERY jealous of all of the other cats. If she had her way, she'd be the only cat in the house and I'd pay her constant attention. She still plays with her toy mice like a kitten, especially at three in the morning in the bathtub at the top of her lungs.
Next came Gryffin (go, go Gryffindor!) who was doubly rescued; first from the street and then from his first owner. She was not good for him. To this day he hisses when anyone, myself included, approaches him too quickly, but he LOVES to have his belly rubbed. He has a quiet little squeak until he hears the can of gushy food or the bowls for wet meat. Or if he's put in a crate. Then all bets are off. His previous owner used to take him to adoptions at PetsMart and he's terrified that's where he's going even after all this time. I've had him at least 5 years. He's part Siamese and the sweetest cat I've ever had.
I have a pair of spotted siblings who, when I lived with friends on their small farm, were supposed to be barn cats. We got Bobbi (at first Bobby until he was really a she) and Corbett from a guy at a feed store when we asked if he knew of anyone who had a barn cat as ours had rats that were killing the chickens. He said he had just the thing and came out with a box containing two tiny kittens, barely weaned from their momma. Naturally, they never left the house to hunt rats. Spoiled little brats is more like it. Corbett is the one with more black while Bobbi is the smartest one in the house, myself included again.They are named after characters from Supernatural which is why Bobbi is the smartest in the house. She just knows we're all idjits. I'm kinda hoping she's my familiar as I can use all the smarts I can get where magick is concerned.
After that I ended up with one more spotted devil named Dave, also known as Shithead. He actually answers to both names. He's only a few years old and a transplant from my family in Florida. He was "living" in a house with five adults, a toddler, and two massive dogs who terrorized poor Dave. He spent his time either hiding in the garage or under the covers in my mom's room. I think that might be why he handled the 13 hours drive back to Texas so well, only crying the first 30 minutes and the last hour. Now, he snuggles up next to my head. His favorite pastimes (which earned him the nickname of Shithead) are pulling artwork off the wall, destroying blinds, picking on Aku, and sitting outside on the screened-in patio. Before he moved in with the dogs, he was indoor-outdoor right on the beach. He misses having the whole beach as his litter box, but he loves playing with Corbett.
Last and certainly not least is Coco, or as I like to call her Foo Foo. I always swore I'd never end up with a Persian as the smooshed faces make them look pissed off all the time. That was until I ended up with my sister's cats. First I had Chanel and Coco went to a friend. Chanel passed away last year from renal failure which is normal for Persians. Then the friend who had Coco couldn't keep her anymore. So I took her in. She was very skittish and didn't like to be approached or picked up at first. Any cat that lives with me learns to like (or at least tolerate) being handled so while she isn't 100% there she doesn't run every time. She will get in my lap for attention and purrs like crazy. And she has the cutest little habit. If you reach for her from the front, she will swat at you with only her paw, no claws to let you know she's startled. Then she'll box with you. I'll have to record that sometime and share it as it's adorable.
And because I'm always a sucker for a cat, here's a bonus photo of my favorite internet superstar, Tardar Sauce aka Grumpy Cat.