HAPPY DADKATT'S DAY!

Today is DadKatt's Day and I purrsonally don't think DadKatts get enough credit, so today's post is gonna be about DadKatts, specifically, MY DadKatt.  Here he is in a picture:

He's what is called a "ham", where he sits in our basement (the "ManKattKave") behind all these screens and heavy-looking metal boxes and other things with knobs on them and twiddles the knobs and talks into this stick called  a microphone to people all around the world.  There's all kinds of beeping and booping and squawking going on down there when he's doing this, but he does this because he loves to and he's been doing it for about 30 years.  I'm told cats cannot do this, or be hams, or get "licensed".  But (and here's why he is a special DadKatt) he doesn't do it in the basement alone.

Meet Boudicca:

She's the "Basement Cat" in this house (yes!  We have an official "basement cat", though the roles are reversed 'cause I as the black kitty should be Basement Cat and she should be Ceiling Cat, though she doesn't fit that, either, 'cause she's a cow cat.)  ANYWAY ... she came to our house a couple of years ago, in a cold December, before I was here, evidently a stray, and clearly unaccustomed to the very cold, snowy, wintery weather we were having at that time.  To make a long story short, my DadKatt got her into the basement (an easy thing to do, since it was dang cold out there & she was obviously used to a home of some kind.  Attempts were made to see whether or not she was microchipped to get her to her old home, and she was BUT - her the people hadn't registered it!  How stupid can you be?)  Anyway, since then, she's never left our basement and, thus, Boudicca (named after the warrior queen of the Iceni in ancient Britain) became our Basement Cat - specifically, DadKatt's Basement Cat.  (She also comes into the upper house sometimes but, essentially, she likes her territory down below.)

Here is another of my sisfurs - Sasha:

She was a kitten when this picture was taken (that's DadKatt, too.  Sorry about the toilet.  MOL)  She's a blue point Siamese who, as a kitten, had been dumped at a shelter in Caswell Co., NC, near where we live.  She had feline herpes in her left eye and the lady that dumped her told the shelter staff she wanted her put to sleep.  MomKatt had been called to evaluate her to get her into the Virginia Siamese Rescue Program and, to make another long story short, DadKatt took one look at her & fell in love.  He asked MomKatt (this was in 2003, before Boudicca) if they could adopt her (they only had my two other sibs, Sharif and Livia, whom you'll meet later, at this point) and she said yes.  He named her Sasha after a Russian Blue kitty he had had when he was little - so this is actually Sasha II (detect the makings of a dynasty here?) 

Here she is now, all grown up:

Isn't she beautiful?

My point to all this, aside from introducing my blog-o peeps to more members of my furry family, is that DadKatts are REALLY special, and they don't get enough recognition.  MomKatts and ladies that volunteer and do endless work at shelters, adoption fairs, etc. are GREAT!  DO NOT get me wrong - but the DadKatts are, to me, the unsung heroes of cat adoption.  And today should single them out & honor them like people honor hooman dads.

Just look at my foster Dad, Uncle Bill.  He fed me when I was outside at the country club, he was determined to tame me and make me trust him, he was there EVERY DAY, rain or shine, no matter what else was going on in his world.  I'm so grateful to him, and so are my Mom&DadKatt, because he's the reason that I made it to my furever home. He fostered me & took care of me & because of him, I learned that not all hoomans are bad people.  DadKatts are tender and loving in a very, very special way.  (He's now working on the OTHER black kitty that was hanging around the same dumpster I used to frequent.)

Or look at Brian's dad here on the blog.  He's a marvel.  He's why I'm here in Reidsville, and he's helped countless kitties find furever homes - and a couple of them have made HIM their "furever DadKatt!"

My DadKatt talks to me, laughs with and at me, plays with and pets me and protects me.  He is truly a "cat guy" and cannot bear to see a cat homeless or uncared for or abused.  Why, just last night, he and MomKatt had gone out to dinner and, as they left the restaurant, they passed another parking lot, practically empty of cars, but having six - SIX! - cats sitting around:  one black, three tabbies, and one Siamese-looking kitty (another kitty was in the adjoining parking lot).  He told MomKatt to turn around & go back (which she was already doing) and they checked them out.  All were clearly feral, but looked well-taken care of - not skinny or anything.  They stayed for a few minutes, to check on them, then left.

That's what I mean.  DadKatts

Thank you, DadKatts everywhere, and a special thank you to MY DadKatt who, finally, gave in and allowed MomKatt to persuade him to adopt me, and has been glad ever after that I'm a part of their household.

HAPPY DADKATT'S DAY!