Wilson Pickett Smith

(Mom said that I was just so cute, that she had to cut herself out of this photo)

History: I was born in April of the year 2000. At a little less than 4 months old, I was abandoned, dropped off at Angel Puss & Pooch Rescue in Canoga Park, CA. I was still there, sitting in a cage and hoping for a home when I first met Mom. It was December of 2000 when we would first meet. It was her first day working at the shelter and I caught her eye as she strolled through the main room that had become my home. There were so many of us in there and I was so excited that she had noticed me. I heard her ask the manager about me. There wasn't much to tell, and Mom walked away to get back to work down the hall in the isolation room. After that, I would see her now and then. Whenever she came to the big room, she always made sure give me a special hello and short visit. It was all I had to look forward to. Eventually, blood would be drawn from all of us teenage cats, and those lucky enough to test clean, would get to go into a large pen with a higher adoption price tag. I couldn't wait until it was my turn. Those who didn't test clean were taken away (to the isolation room where Mom worked I would later find out.)

One Monday when Mom came into work she was so surprised to see me in her room!! She inquired and found out that I had tested positive for FIP, with an international Titer of 1:1600. Her boy Whiskey also had tested positive in a routine blood test years earlier. Mom had done much research on FIP and was not worried about my status. She told me not to worry, that she would take me home to live with her soon. Evidently she needed time to figure out how to tell her apartment manager first. Meanwhile, she would remove me from my cage and hold me in her lap every day and talk to me. She loved the way I would hang my legs through the bars of the cage, and dangle my big seven-toed feet. She continued to make promises to me and I waited patiently.

Then things changed suddenly, Mom started bringing a cat back and forth to work with her every day, her whole world was focused on that skinny little cat she called Gem. I watched her for hours as she bathed him, fed him with a syringe, and then sometimes she would just sit in front of his cage for the longest time, just tracing his face with her thumb. On the nights when it was cold, she would put the silliest little turtleneck sweater on him before they left. I felt sorry for him then, and the indignities he was suffering. I just knew she had forgotten all about me, and I longed for attention. I supposed she just didn't love me anymore, and I wondered what I had done wrong.

The little cat got sicker and sicker each day, and she cried and she cried. She watched over him constantly, and catered to his every need. Then one day she brought him in and lay his body, this time lifeless, on the counter in the room. She looked at him for a really long time, pet him, held him, and cried. I watched her as she shaved some fur from his body, then she left with him. I never saw him again except for in the photos I would see later in what would finally become my new home.

Over the next few weeks, she would often sit in front of the now empty cage. Sometimes she would hold me in her lap, gazing into the cage where the little cat had been, and she would weep quietly. I was so happy she noticed me again, but she said nothing about taking me home. Then suddenly one night, on May 29th, 2001, Mom removed me from my cage, stuck me with a needle, (a vaccination she called it), stuffed me into a container, put me into her car and finally took me to my brand new home. I was so frightened in the car, but she said she'd take care of me for the rest of my life. The adoption papers had been signed, it was official now, I was hers, and she was mine.

Special Skills: Long distance runner (from one end of the apartment to the other), hurdle jumper, (up and over the couch, or anything that's in my path.) I enjoy my workouts mainly in the early morning hours, especially on weekends.

Physical Attributes: Oh those large and lovely feet, and Mom kisses them...but I hate to have my nails cut...

Intelligence Level: I've heard things like, "not the sharpest pencil in the box", "a few sandwiches short of a picnic", "a few slices short of a loaf". I don't know what these things mean, but it makes my Mom laugh and that's what counts. I like to make her happy.

My photo album could use some improvement, but I'm new, so there's plenty of time for new photos. Be sure to click on the thumbnails to enlarge the photos

Holding my bear Hernandez. Mom bought him for me when I was still at the shelter. She let me keep him when she brought me home. That's my brother Farley behind me in photo at right.

Proudly displaying my foot in these photos. Which looks better, against black as in the photo at left? Or against the yellow background at right?

Kickin' back on my new bed

Whoops! I've fallen and I can't get up!!

Waiting around in the kitchen for dinner.

Well, the bars are still there, but this cage is a whole lot bigger than the one I was in before. My new sister Rachael shares the view.