This blog is about Winsor Hemingway.
Winsor as you can see is my ginger cat.
Over our life time we can choose to share our lives with many pets, and we love them all for all their quirks, but every now and again you get one that is different.
They really stand out, as they are filled with so much character.
Winsor is one of them.
Winsor has been with me from day one, born on the 1st March 2000, one day before my twenty-first birthday.
He was one of five healthy kittens born within a sanctuary, mother Tiddy was only eight months old and had already had one litter of kittens. Two of which came into the sanctuary with her. Mizanne and Snowfeet, both girls.
Winsor along with his sister Nemo, (gingers) were the biggest of the litter.
Bootlace and Shoelace (torties) and little Ted the runt of the litter (black, named after Wildcat of course!)
Over the next two weeks they were all feeding well, except when the time came to go onto solid food, Winsor just didn't ''get it''.
Mum was getting tired of hungry mouths and soon milk had all stopped. Winsor was on formula but still wouldn't accept any kind of solid food.
He watched the others, walked around it and sat in it... just he wouldn't eat it.
Winsor had become the smallest kitten of the litter, he was getting weaker.
Kerry, the vet gave him the once over and found him to have a heart murmur which she thought may be a sign that things weren't quite so well developed as we had first thought.
It was sad news, she told me not to give up, but if he wasn't eating solids within five days, then we should do the kindest thing as he was starting to waste away.
FIVE DAYS....
Getting the lovely night watchman to pop into see him and to give him some formula over night, I had to have him on solids.
It may have not been the ''offical'' way... but it was desperation and his last chance, on day five I bought the most stinky salmon patty I could find, mushed it, opened Winsors mouth and with my little finger placed a great big dollop to the back of his mouth.
It was if something hadn't been triggered in him.
Whether he was just slow on the uptake, poor scent or something else I do not know? but he demolished a whole saucer of salmon patty within minutes.
There was no stopping him once he had started, he soon gained weight and was a happy kitty once again.
It was this time where our bond grew.
Winsor; he is my cat, that's for sure... he stays with me, sits with me, and talks with me.
Ask him a question, he will answer, often with quite an indignant mew.
He was truly my number one furry baby!
But what makes Winsor so wonderful is how he has accepted the other furry friends and of course one of the biggest things, my new number one!! My son...
It didn't matter if my son was crying, shouting, or running around, Winsor takes it all within his stride and has accepted everyone and everything that has come through my door.
What has spurred me on to write this blog is the fact, I'm seeing my ginger buddy become older.
He is getting quite the grumpy old man at times.
4.30 rolls around he is there wanting his dinner.... hovering, mewing, and prowling. He scrambles up the fences and we no longer get his ''gifts''.
He doesn't like going out in the dark and spends most of the time curled up on my bed.
Shadow, one of my younger kitties has started to challenge him for superiority but so far Winsor is holding his place with dignity and laying the smack down with those six toed paws of his.
That's no laughing matter if you are on the receiving end.
So from an iffy start to life, he has grown into one of the most charismatic, handsome and stately kitties I have ever had the pleasure to share my home with.
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