Pawprints and Purrs, Inc.

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In our hearts, the cherished memories live on... This site is created in loving memory of our beloved FancyBoy and JoJo.

I adopted Sylvia and her brother as adult cats from our local SPCA - the SPCA of Fredericksburg. Sylvia was a black and white manx. She was identical to her brother and sitting side by side they were like bookends. She was known as sweet and silly Slyvie. Her brother and I and her six other feline buddies and three canine roomates will miss her and remember her always.

Cuddles was my first cat - the cat to show me the beautiful, beautiful world of catdom. She was always dignified and quiet even as a tiny malnourished kitten who was the result of a Siamese breeder's "mistake" - the woman's unspayed show cat pushed out a window to tango with her unneutered outside tabby cat.

Cudz had huge, huge expressive green eyes that appeared to look deep into one's soul. As a kitten, they were the eyes of an old, wise cat. After she got older, too many people to count would make the comment that her eyes were haunting, soul-searching eyes.

She had a soft, soft melodic meow unless frightened or stressed. Then she would let out the most mournful Siamese yowls that would wrench at your heart.

She was a cat who wasn't too fond of other cats, except for my second cat, Danielle, and even less fond of people. To Cudz I was HER person - she seemed to think she and I lived in a world apart from everyone and everything else. She reluctantly accepted each cat and kitten I would bring home through the years. Finally after the arrival of KC, in her graceful way, she resigned to the fact that the door never shut to any needy cat. However, she always remained the alpha cat. When Craig and I met, it took her several months to accept him. But she did and would snuggle with him in the evenings after he came home from work.

She had been battling hyperthyroidism for nearly three years and diabetes for five months. When she was diagnosed with diabetes, she was also diagnosed with the beginning stages of renal failure. It was the latter that was our immediate concern this weekend. She wouldn't eat and if force-fed, she would lose the meal. When she disappeared into the back of a closet and refused to come out, Craig and I knew it was time to release her from the poor quality of life she was entering.

Today, August 14, 2000 she and I made our final trip to Dr. Steve's office. As I held her in my arms for the sedative, she reached up and placed a paw on my face. Then she gently gave me her little nibbling bite that we referred to as her kisses. My heart shattered into a million pieces, but deep down I know it was her way of thanking me for setting her free.

Oh dearest Cud-Cat, I miss you and love you so. You shared my life for 16 years. I know life will go on, but now it's filled with unspeakable pain. Take care of your little brother, KC, and little sister, Spook, until you meet Dad and me at the Bridge...to bring us over.

Cuddles' story is located here.

Sweet Maggie Xuxa. She was our Maine Coon, our only purchased kitty, our only pedigree kitty. We got Maggie in April 1994. Her paternal grandfather's picture is on the cover of the February 1991 edition of CatFancy magazine. She came from good stock.

Maggie was a vocal cat. She would meow and talk quite a bit when she was in the mood. Nothing seemed to please her when she was like that. No amount of petting or treats appeased her. She just wanted to talk. She learned the cats' equivalent of "But why?"

Maggie had what I call a "Marilyn Monroe" purr. It was very soft. So soft, that you had to get very close to her to hear it. Sometimes the only way to know if she was purring, was by placing your hand on her.

I found her on the floor in the tv room this morning. She hadn't been gone long, she was still warm and supple. She was only six and a half years old and gave no signs of being ill. But she was a Maine Coon and from what I've heard, they are prone to heart problems. She died in her sleep from the way she was laying there, all stretched out next to my sandals.

She had a really good life with us, better than she would have had elsewhere. And I think it's not so hard because there's nothing we could do to stop it and her passing wasn't up to us, like it was with Bobby. She was just so young.

"Baka" is a character from the movie, The Ten Commandments. He was the architect who built the pyraminds and Vincent Price played him. Liz and I knew Vinnie and we thought "Baka" would be a cool name for a cat.

I found Baka on the back stoop in September 1984 in the pouring, freezing rain, soaking wet and howling his head off. He was about 3 months old, so we gave him June 15th, 1984 as a birthday. There's a garage in the adjacent back yard where someone had been feeding a feral colony and we figured he came from there, but he was the only longhair we'd seen. I brought him in and dried him off and fed him. We kept him because he had such a playful purrrsonality.

By the time he was a year old, he weighed 14 pounds and he was huge. He was never sick. The only time anything was wrong with him was about five years ago, when I had to pull a few teeth. He was fine after that, but lost the rest of his teeth on his own.

He was a real "cry baby," talked a lot and asked for things, answered to his name, an unusually intellegent cat. He was fine when I left for Pennsylvania on Monday. Liz said he didn't look well and didn't eat Tuesday night. I got home on Wednesday and he didn't look good, just laid around and didn't seem interested in anything. Thursday morning, all he could do was lay still and breathe. When I called him, he tried to meow and lift his head, but couldn't. I couldn't get him to the vet until 3:30 pm, so I ran to the surgical supply and got a bag of Ringers and a line. I subcued him with 250mL and he popped to life and ate a bowl of turkey. He was ravenous.

I brought him to the vet that afternoon and we drew blood for a CBC/SMA Vet Screen. The results showed liver and kidney failure and indicated FIP. He ate pretty well, but only what he wanted, raw red meat and fish. He wouldn't touch cat food.

I continued to subcue him twice a day, about 100-150 mL each time, and on Saturday night he seemed fair and even came up on the couch to take a nap. I went to bed around 4 am and he was asleep on the kitchen floor. Sunday morning, we got up around 7:45 am. I found him laying in the doorway between the kitchen and bathroom, his head arched back, struggling to breathe. His legs twitched. I put him on the couch with us on a soft acrylic blanket and at 8 am, Sunday, August 27th, 2000, he slipped away to the Rainbow Bridge.

Ei, a dear friend sent a lovely card when she learned about the loss of our Cuddles. Craig and I would like to dedicate its verse to the memory of Baka:

"Though you cannot always see the bird singing, if you listen with your heart, you can always hear his song. Though the ones we love may leave life as we know it, in our memory, the love we knew will always carry on."

With love always, Susie and Craig

I lost one of my favorite cats last week to cancer. Her name was Trudy-Do Peggy Sue, and she was almost 8 years old. Her dad, who was a stray that we fed, brought her to us when she was about five months old. After we took her in, he came back and they visited a few times, and then we never saw him again.

She was one of the toughest little cats I've ever known! She had no qualms about backing our Border Collie into the corner and making her stay there! Although she couldn't get away with this on our Chessie, he would go to any lengths to avoid her when he could.

Our oldest, and the queen, is Penny Lane, who is 18 and deaf, and Trudy had taken over many of the queen duties in preparation for her moving into that role after Penny Lane was gone. She had become the protector when a scuffle broke out, and the others had already started to defer to her when it came time for meals and catnip parties. But, it was not to be.

Trudy developed breast cancer in 1998, which I'm told is very rare, and was cured with surgery. But this year in June, she had another lump and again it was breast cancer. The vet removed it and we thought she was fine. Then in July I noticed a bad odor about her head, and she began treatment for what the vet thought was an ear infection.

It was actually a tumor right under the ear in the jaw area. By the time we found this out, it had eaten through the jaw bone and she couldn't close her mouth. Therefore, she couldn't eat. I hand-fed her baby food and water for a day, but she went into hiding, so I knew it was time.

She was so unhappy to be so debilitated. I probably could have hung on to her for a couple more days, but I couldn't do that to her, so we made the last trip to the vet and I held her and sang her favorite song, "Trudy-Do Peggy Suzer," to her as she went to sleep in my arms.

She just barely survived a bout with bacterial pneumonia when she was 3 years old. I mention this because it strikes me now that for as strong a spirit as she had, her immune system left a lot to be desired.

I will never, ever, forget her. She was a dancer, an artist who created many designs with her "snake" toys, a cuddler, and just a total joy to be with.

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