Toffles arrived at my house about a week or two after our neighbors had moved away. They took his mother and siblings, but apparently didn't feel like waiting around to take him with them, or else just forgot about him, and he had been living off of scraps and other cats' food for a while until he finally followed my dogs in through our doggy-door, ate all of my mom's cat's food out of her bowl, then curled up on my bed and went to sleep.

We thought he was a girl for half a year. Upon taking 'her' to the vet to get microchipped, I was paranoid that 'she' would already have had one, and thus, would be taken away from me and given back to the owners who had moved away without even bothering to take 'her' with them.

I was also concerned that 'she' might be pregnant and wished to schedule an appointment to get 'her' spayed, being an indoor/outdoor cat and around seven months old.

Instead, the vet gave me a quizzical look and said, "You're concerned that Toffles might be pregnant? Well, that's impossible."

Confused, mild comprehension dawned on me and I asked, "Why? Is she already fixed?"

To which I got the reply: "Fixed? Well, yes, actually, but she is also a neutered male."

I must have sat there a full thirty seconds with my jaw on the floor, and my 'little princess' takes this very opprotunity to turn and glance at me with this /abnormally/ sarcastic expression on his face, all the while dressed up in a pink collar and matching tutu-ruff around his neck, like "Well, it's /about time/ someone told her." xDDD

Ever since, little Toffy has still worn his manly pink collar with pride, and to this day, he's still my little princess. >3

He's the sweetest and most easy-going cat I have ever met. He has never hissed, growled, bitten, or ever purposely scratched or clawed anyone or anything. No one has heard him make a single threatening noise.

He is well over twenty pounds, but he still gets rather beaten up by my females (who are far smaller, even half his size or less) when they roughhouse and chase each other because of the sheer fact that he won't fight back enough to make them back off when they get too rowdy. Regardless, he is the most gentle, affectionate cat that I have ever, or will ever meet. I love him to death, and I truly don't know what I would do without him.

Spike was purchased from our veterinary hospital, shortly after one of our vets found him abandoned in the bushes by her apartment, as a companion for my year-older kitty, Sir Toffles, because other than our indifferent dogs and myself, his only source of company was Emerald, my mom's ten year old cat who, though she is six pounds, is one of the most evil beings I have ever met and frequently kicked the snot out of him on his feeble attempts to goad her into playing with him.

Although shy around the massive orange tabby at first, Spike quickly grew fond of his 'big brother' and did his job as a companion well -- and more, he became Toffles' own personal bodyguard and guardian angel. At just a few months old, he was already following Toffy around the neighborhood and defending him from offending cats and even dogs. The outdoor cat population had spent the better part of a year beating the frimp out of my poor boy, and once I got Spike, there was a significant decrease, even to the point of near lack of the usual minor injuries Toffles was receiving before (snagged and torn ears, bitemarks on his neck and paws, etc).

At just four months old, I watched out my kitchen window in horror as the enormous long-haired white cat tackled my boy, Toffles, in our front yard, and I could hear the yowling all the way as I ran out the door, but before I could get to them, Spike had made a beeline there out of our flowerbed and engaged in a tangling, hissing, spitting fit with the far larger male, quite literally managing to get his claw on his front paw stuck in the white cat's /eyelid/.

It took only a few seconds for the other to pull free and run, but the blood littering the ground was enough for me to grab both of my boys and rush into the bathroom to see how much damage had been done. I actually had my mother on the phone, preparing an emergency vet visit, when I discovered that Toffles only had a few tiny bite marks on his neck and Spike was completely unharmed, though his front paws and chest was coated in the other cat's blood.

That was one nightmarish scene, but it definitely explained why Toffles hadn't been coming home with such a wide array of knicks, cuts and bites as he used to.

Another frightening day was when, at about half a year old, Spike literally bit onto and pierced the lip of our neighbor's cat-aggressive labrador mix when it got out of their yard and tried to pin Toffles to the ground-- the lab mix couldn't get Spike off of its face long enough to bite or do any more damage after it had already bitten Toffles' back foot before Spike had joined the fray. That was all the time I needed to chase the dog away from our driveway, and even after such a horrifying scuffle, it was almost comical to watch Spike standing arch-backed with his hackles on end and tail fluffed up to three times its normal girth, refusing to move more than a few feet away from his big brother.

Knowing that these were the only fights I /witnessed/, and that plenty of others surely occurred, was easily as unnerving as seeing them at all, but it was at least a relief to know that my Spike was keeping his Toffles safe when I couldn't be there.

Spike had been Toffles' best friend their whole lives, and as two males, I figured they might fight or at least avoid each other, but although Toffles is extremely submissive and wouldn't harm a fly, Spike has always respected and loved him as his 'big brother', respecting and even looking up to him.

His biggest pain in the neck would have to be Cinder and Trinity, the two new girls in the house. Toffles loves both of them, but Spike simply can't understand why. He has always hated Cinder, even though he is one of the few cats she absolutely adores, and follows around obsessively.

A couple months later, Trinity showed up, and even though she only weighed about four to six pounds compared to his eighteen, she would chase him around and smack him in the face if he didn't run. Now she has decided she rather likes him, though he'll still cower and flee when she decides she's going to follow him around.

He has been playfully nicknamed "Trinity's Boyfriend" and if you call him this, he will generally give you a stern, mature look, almost as if conveying "mind your own business." xD

-Update-

I haven't come on here in a while. I don't think I could have physically come on here and told anyone what happened at the time, but..a few months ago, before last halloween of 2007, I found Spike, my baby, dead on the side of the road.

He was next to a four foot tall white wooden fence, and he was actually thrown out /toward/ the road. It had been raining and the dirt road was soft; you could see the tire marks going off the road and coming into the gravel some fifteen feet back from where my cat was laying, and presumably the same set of tire tracks going back up onto the road another ten to twenty feet ahead.

There was no way a car could have driven up onto the road from the fence in that area, as it was someone's yard and their driveway was quite a ways further down. For him to have been lying like that..whatever heartless scumbag that hit him would have had to have swerved out at him and then back toward the road, meaning they'd have had to chase after him with their vehicle, or he'd have been thrown further ahead or even off of the road, but not facing as though he'd been thrown in that direction. He hadn't moved after he died..half of his face was torn off from the gravel and he was lying in a puddle of his own blood.

He didn't move after he was hit..so..at least I have the..comfort, I suppose, of knowing that it was quick. Regardless, it just makes me seriously beyond angry to know that /anyone/ can purposely chase after someone's beloved pet and family member to try and run them over for fun, simply because, as this is an animal and not a human, they know they can get away with it.

There is no way to put into words the hurt and rage that I felt and still feel. It's been three years now, and it feels like not a day has passed since that happened.

I miss my 'puppy' more than anything..I wish he had gotten to live out more of his life, and I hope whoever took his life gets what's coming to them..but more than anything, please, everyone who is reading this..I hope you never have to go through this, and please, do anything in your power to avoid animals on the road.

It may be startling, but upont he sight of a dog or cat on the street, avoid swerving, but it isn't hard to come to an abrupt stop whenever possible. Of course, avoiding hitting animals on the road and literally chasing them down and trying to kill them are two different things, but the latter is just common sense that anyone with a heart would possess.

Thanks to all who've offered your condolences for my Spike, it means a lot, and I'm sure my little attention-craving puppycat would be very grateful as well. Thank

Cinder was purchased at a yardsale. I had originally went to the fairground sale with my mom in the hopes of picking up a few neat trinkets, and instead came home with a new kitten.

The people selling her said they had found an entire litter that was abandoned by their mother. I was told that, less than a block from where they discovered the kittens, they saw an adult cat on the side of the road, presumably the mother, as to why the kittens were left unattended long enough to get so cold and dehydrated. She was the second-smallest, and the only Tortie. The rest were all Orange and Gray tabbies, along with a black and white shorthair and a gray and white longhair.

It was later this day that I originally injured my ankle which would eventually need surgery, and slightly because of this little girl.

No, I didn't trip on her. xD I was trying to chase down a pair of beagles for a friend of my parents, who had just had hip replacement surgery. They had gotten out of the house, and upon pursuing them, slipped off of a curb in the process. I tried to avoid landing on the tiny kitten in my arm and managed to twist my body halfway around, managing to twist my ankle to where the toes were pointing in the opposite direction -- thankfully, little Cinny remained unharmed.

It took her a total of nine months before I could coax her out of my room, and now she still doesn't leave the house, even though she had full ability to for about three years, before I finally convinced my mother to avoid installing another dog door. Thankfully, she and all of my other cats are indoor-only, though she's always been the one I've worried about the least due to her sheer paranoia of strange places.

She hates my dog, Nova, though. He may be a sixty pound husky-wolf hybrid, but his eyes widen and his tail tucks between his legs the moment he sees her. I've had to get a squirt bottle after her, as she is known to chase him up and down the hall and corner him in the bathroom, and it's not uncommon to see her playing sentinal by perching on the edge of my mattress, glaring at him so he can't approach me while I'm in bed. Poor guy.

This cat is one of the most lovable, attention-craving, sweet animals you will ever find -- until you get her angry. It usually takes quite a bit, as she'd rather dart away looking mortally offended and superior; but once you manage to tick her off, you wouldn't know she's a tame cat. Her temper is unrivaled, even by Emerald, my mom's cat who is outright satanic. Still, despite the occasional outbursts, Cinder is an absolutely shy little lovebug. xD

Trinity, my lynx-point siamese, was adopted shortly after I got Cinder. I hadn't even planned on getting another cat, but once I found this little tabby seal-point girl, I couldn't turn her away. It took us several hours after bathing and brushing her, just to get the mass amounts of fleas off of her with a pair of tweezers.

We plucked off and killed over a hundred and eighty before I lost count -- she was covered, and extremely weak and frail from the blood loss and lack of food over the days, or possibly weeks, that she'd had to fend for herself. Surprisingly enough, upon being taken to the vet, it turned out that she fortunately wasn't anemic.

By the time she was beginning to feel better after being fattened up and cared for, her true personality began to show more, and that was about the time it took her and her 'big sister' Cinder to become best friends, shortly before she got over her intense fear of most other cats.

It is because of Trinny that Cinder will even leave my room at all. They are very close to the same age, and although Trinity is far more outgoing than her larger and shyer sister, the two couldn't be closer. They love to chase each other around my room and have play-arguments over the catnip toys. Cinder loves to flop over on her side and lazily swat at Trinity, while Trinny rockets around her in circles, smacking at her back paws and tail.

As is characteristic of her breed, she is extremely vocal and will simply sit and tell you all about her day. She loves to communicate, and with such a wide variety of sounds and pitches she uses, it honestly is almost like she's trying to have an actual conversation with you -- as if she's simply speaking another language, and isn't aware that we're far from fluent. She's an extremely social kitty and loves me to drape her around the back of my neck so she can ride around the house while perching on both of my shoulders. Her company provides me hours of entertainment and joy every single day, and I don't know what I'd do without this girl.

nther was adopted from a woman who allowed her six month old cat to get pregnant. The eight month old mother, a diluted tortoiseshell manx, "Kitty", began to dry up when her kittens were about four to five weeks old. Due to not wanting to bottlefeed and provide the extra care needed for seven one-month-old kittens, the woman was giving them away early to whoever would take them.

They were being offered kibble that was softened with water, but they were refusing it. When I brought Panther home, she was very dehydrated and, while far from emaciated, quite thin for the average kitten. After a few short weeks of being bottlefed milk replacement formula every two to four hours and offered canned food, Panther is now a healthy little butterball who happily scampers about.

Trinity and Cinder are not too fond of her, while Emerald absolutely hates her-- but Emerald hates everyone, and the other cats were far from enthusiastic about having new kittens in the home when Cinny and Trinny arrived, either. Toffles, however, absolutely adores her.

Her most surprising friendship is with Nova and Akita, my fifty pound cattledog and sixty pound wolfdog hybrid, whom she gently roughhouses with for hours until she's exhausted and falls asleep between their front legs.

Though I have only had Panther for less than a month, I've already fallen in love with her, and she's attached herself to me as a sort of adoptive parent. She may be a typical playful, feisty little kitten at the moment, but I can't wait to see what she matures into, both in personality and appearance. I look forward to seeing her grow and change every single day that I get to spend with her.