Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Q is for Queen...

I had this really neat kitty, big old longish haired, grey striped cat, bright yellow eyes.  It walked just like John Wayne, from the back.

So, I named him Duke.

Duke lived up to his name, he'd eat, and fight, and be the biggest, most aggressive cat.  Ran most everyone else off.  He loved me, though.  I would feed him on the bin where we kept the food, and he would purr so loudly, you'd thought his Mom was a Peterbilt.

We'd had him for about a year or two, where he came from was anyone's guess, people were unduly fond of dumping cats out near our place, since we were in the country.  (Snarl...)

But then I couldn't find him.  He was gone for about 3 days or so.  I was really worried, and Mom and Dad even checked the road, a definite danger to our animals there.

Then I saw Duke jump up on the bin like always, purring.  However, this time, I heard little squeaks...

Huh?

I peeked behind the bin, and there, by an engine block, were 4 tiny kittens.  This wasn't a real safe place for them, so we moved the kittens, and Duke, giving them a spot with a bit more warmth, and a bit less mechanical decor.

Oh, and I renamed her Duchess...


5 comments:

  1. Well, it would seem the Duke (or Duchess) didn't fight off ALL the other cats.

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  2. Heeheehee! They can fool you to a point, then "the cat is out of the bag"! Sorry, i couldn't help it!

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  3. Lovely story with a happy ending. :)

    Visiting from A to Z,
    Yvonne V

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  4. So Duke or Duchess, as the case may be, was a bit promiscuous as it turned out. What fun though. Is there anything cuter than little kittens?? NO, nothing is cuter.

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