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Minis Story

Minis Story



Minimee tells her unique story.

Minimee tells her unique story.



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  • Addendum to the slideshow: I've since, being a sucker, taken in the calico, now named 'Pixie' and the juvenile black cat ( a friendly female I've named 'Midnight' - so original!). And yes, the black and white guy is still around. I've named him 'Little Man' and, though he remains an outside cat, I still feed him daily.
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    Minis Story Minis Story Presentation Transcript

    • Mini’s
    • I don’t remember how it all started – my journey. I was born little and neglected. I almost died of parvo, but some capable docs pulled me through. I looked basically like a mouse… a mangy-mouse that licked and sniveled a lot. I mean… I was tiny. Half dachshund, half Chihuahua, I was doomed to always looking up.
    • Me (Minimee)
      My fate improved when I was adopted by, of all people, a cat-lover. I mean, I knew cats. I was brought up with ‘em. No big deal, really. We all know cats are not known for vigorous activity, except in bursts of maniacal energy.But, please, to be adopted by a cat-loving human who figured that maybe walking the dog would help walk off those extra weighty pounds? Now that’s funny.
    • Tai
      But we tried…
      Between the infrequent walks, I got to know my feline buddies. There was Tai, a butterscotch and cream beauty. Snooty, spoiled, and favored by my human as a silky night-time pillow. A real wuss who ran at the slightest sound, really, but what could one expect from one whose pre-adoptive name was Earl. So I understood him and he, me. We tolerated.
    • Chi
      And there was Chi (get it… Tai Chi?), a pretty little calico with a stubby little pink nose, pixie face, and shy demeanor. Cute, friendly enough, but still… just a cat after all.
    • Shadow
      And then, out of nowhere, came Shadow.
    • What the heck? One minute I’m out walking my human and from the middle of the road comes this grey thing. With no pretense at all, it saunters over and begins to lick at my ears and face. Prickly little tongue that felt great!
      On second look, the poor little guy seemed very sickly. His velvety black nose was fully encrusted with filth. My human picked him up and propped him on her shoulder, a move which he didn’t protest. He knew his fortunes had just changed for the better.
    • Shadow became my best friend. He gained back his health and playfulness and romped daily with me. No dog, no cat, no human was immune to his friendly charms. Open and free, trusting completely, the ultimate poster boy for swaying the cat-averse.
    • My world settled into comfortable routines… sleeping in my pet pad directly in front of a warm stream of air from the living room “furnace” on cold winter days, with cold winter paws. Peeing outside and barking madly to maintain my little dog boundaries. Sleeping lazily in the sun. Feeding time… I ate my food last because for some reason, what the cats had was always better. Rascal-ing around with Shadow for exercise (my human long ago abandoned dreams of daily dog walks to trim her figure… ha! What dog walks?).
      Things were going well.
      Sleepy Daze
    • Ragweed and Poppy
      Ahhhh, but not to continue. Poppy and Ragweed, with their multi-excess toes and big spirits came home to stay. Farm siblings. Ragweed, a healthy grey and white tiger, and Poppy, shiny black, with one crippled back foot that never, ever slowed him down, regardless of the weird raptor claw sticking out the top.
    • Poppy “Milking”
      Poppy and Ragweed came when very young and were a bit confused. As I said, Shadow was Mr. Friendly, and so, did not turn away when Poppy and Rags needed their phantom milk.
      It’s a cat thing – or a Shadow thing – or whatever!
    • Heap o’ Cats… sans Tai
      Okay, adjust-a-time. My life, my story.
      Though I was basically still the smallest mammal (dog-thing) in the house, I fretted not. The dust settled and the cat-chaos mounted, but it barely dented my scrappy little junk-yard attitude.
      I am dog; I will survive! And so I did, with little worry or concern.
      After all, life was good.
    • And for a long time, it was. I had my home, my human, my friend Shadow. Enough, I thought.
      But then, the winter of ’09. A frightening, bitter one it was. In 9-degree weather, ghostly feral shapes slinked outside my front door looking for cover, looking for shelter and food.
      Okay. Easy fix. A covered pet-taxi with a bowl of food snuggled inside placed strategically on the front porch should do the trick! At least, the food would fuel some smidgeon of heat inside those pitifully cold little waif bodies and maybe get them through the winter.
      The Winter from Hell
    • One of the waifs was black and white; another, shaggy with a pewter-burnished coat; a third had grey-brown stripes.
      For months , each stole surreptitiously into the haven-heaven of the pet taxi for food, and stole as quickly out, distrusting eyes darting for danger. But each left sated and grateful, too. As white drifts piled higher, and temps cascaded downward, the parade of cats continued… January, February, March...
      And in my little home, I was safe and warm.
    • But as all things pass, so did this frosty unbidden winter of fury. Little by little, Mother gentled her hand. Tree buds unfolded, grass and blooms popped from the ground.
      Regardless, the procession on the porch continued… the black and white one and the shaggy one, and a new long-haired grey one, and a shiny-sleek little black cat-pup.
      No need to stop now… they expected the service!
    • Pewter
      And so it continued, with inevitable results. The shaggy, pewter-grey refugee, though huge, seemed vulnerable. And vulnerable means adoptable! So shag-face came in and proceeded to dominate the house – ‘cept me, the Mighty Min, of course. Shag-hair soon became Pewter, the ballsy giant trespasser! Not yet neutered, he cats around the place, smug in his superiority as top dog.
      What the future holds, we won’t reveal to him now. Let him strut for a while.
    • Black and White and Pewter All Over
      Though twice my size, Pewter is unconcerned with me. After all, I’m “one of them”, and not to be bothered with. So, things begin to settle again, after a few cuts and bruises here and there (not on me), and a few hurt furry egos (not mine). Of course, there’s still the faithful black and white groupie, who appears daily for his food fix and a stare-down-hissing match with equally macho Pewter.
    • Pewter’s Girl
      And there is that new petite long haired calico that Pewter’s got his eye on. But doors and windows a barrier make and the prince will ne’er wed his Cinderella.
    • BFFs
      So, I sit today with my best bud, Shadow, and ponder the long journey I’ve made.
      It’s not for every dog, but it’s mine alone.
    • *
      Created by Kathy Wykes
      June 10, 2009
      As of this date, there are three strays that come to my door: The black-and-white male, the calico, and a very cute friendly juvenile black cat (sex unknown). These cats have no collars and come on a daily basis to eat, so to my knowledge belong to no one. If you would like to adopt, let me know and I will capture one for you. These cats need inside shelter and someone who will commit to their care and well-being.
      Mini would agree…
      Contact me at kwykes@charter.net