Woof joined me at a time when my life was very sad, he helped me get back some of myself, and I will love him forever for that...and the fact that he's just a darn wonderful cat.

He was bottle-fed by a lady who later became my friend, she was a foster mom for the Texarkana Humane Society. He and his sister, now deceased, were the only two survivors of a litter born in a grain elevator whose momma had eaten poison. 

Baby's momma was a tiny striped girl named Stupid Stripe (by me, because she would NOT quit yelling) who was dropped in my yard by one of the worthless scum who do that sort of thing.

He was born while we were out of town, when we got home, she presented us with a litter of 3, Baby, Constance (originally named Sugar) and Chicago (because she had white sox)... She stopped feeding them when they were 2 weeks old, so we bottle-fed them and my best friend took Constance and Miss Chi to her place and still has them. Baby has been my darling, my angel, and whatever else a no-touch-um siamese boy can be to his momma since day one. He nearly died after aspirating his own vomit when he was tiny and since then has had breathing issues, but is otherwise healthy, brave, and very very determined to have his way. He knows he's loved, and he occasionally lets me pet him to show he returns it, but he does not want to be held, and enforces that with his teeth and claws...so a lot of my friends refer to me as "clawed"!