About Us

WOL

My burrow is located on the flatlands of North Texas.  I love reading, writing, music, photography, knitting, crochet, sewing, jewelry making and crafting.

 

My Angels

 

Jaks T. Hoover

Jaks T. Hoover

27 August, 2007 – 20 January, 2018

Alias Eedly-Deedly, alias Deedle, alias Poot, alias Tootle-Pootle.
He was my second rescue — he was almost too young to adopt when the daughter of one of the shelter ladies handed him to me while I was standing in the checkout line at Petsmart buying cat food.  (Do I have “cat momma” written on my forehead?)  That little white tip on his tail clenched the deal.  A pouncer and bouncer who took delight in annoying his siblings.  He never ceased to be amazed that I could tell who he was without having to smell his butt.  He loved to rub his face all over you.  He never met a stranger.  He thought he always wanted to be an only cat.  Once he was one, I don’t think he liked it as much as he thought he would, but we adjusted to it.  He followed me from room to room.  Where ever I was, that’s where he wanted to be.  He slept by my head.  There was a kind of symmetry to his time with me.  His departure was as unexpected and sudden as his arrival.  He crossed the Rainbow Bridge to join the four who went before at 11: 23 a.m.

 

Stormalinda Phogg-Foote

1 October, 2004 – 13 May, 2015

Alias Stormie, alias Baby Girl, alias Lady Penelope Pitti-Patti, she was the only survivor of an abandoned litter, hand raised by a shelter lady, and my first rescue.  At barely 6 weeks old, she was so tiny, with the little pink ribbon around her neck.  She weighed a whole pound when I took her home that rainy Saturday in November.  She’s was a classic tabby, the girl with the swirl.  Small, slender, gracile, and very high strung.  An inveterate snuggler and a momma’s girl, she was slow to make friends because she was so skittish.   Jaks was always “bouncing” her, the little thug, and I would hear a yowl and a hiss, and know he had ambushed her again.  In early 2014, she began to lose weight until by January of 2015, she was painfully thin, and the sad news was that she was in early renal failure.  Unfortunately, she could not regain and keep the weight she had lost, her renal function continued to worsen  and I let her go while she was still alert and interactive.  She crossed the Rainbow Bridge on a rainy Wednesday at 11:07 a.m.

 

Gobi Gobatiputtitatti

11 July, 1999 to  17 April, 2015

Alias Emperor Pu An Yu, alias Pu, alias Ol’ Pu, he was half Siamese and half Godknows.  Born 11 July, 1999.  His mother belonged to my then landlord’s daughter-in-law.  I chose him, the only white one in the litter (the other four were black).  I had him since he was 6 weeks old.  He was the grand old man of the troupe.  Vocal, opinionated and obstreperous, but with a softer, snuggly side (it was in there somewhere. . . ). He was my wingman.  He slept at my side. He decided if he would be friends, and it was on his terms, or not at all.  My world was changing, I needed to spend time with my 90-year-old mom, and take her to places she wanted to go, to visit those she loved.  The old man was 15, going on 16.  He’d had his innings.  It was kinder to let him join the two that went on ahead.  He crossed the Rainbow Bridge at 10:05 a.m.

 

Angel’s Babies

They were litter mates, born 24 hours before the other two kittens in the litter.  He was the only male.  They were six weeks old when I brought them home.  I knew the home they came from and their mother, Angel.

Shadow Bugbane-Wisepaws

21 March, 1997 to 22 October,  2004

She was my sweet Sister.  Gentle, quiet, and fond of tummy rubs, she loved having an ice cube in her water.  I named her Shadow, aptly as it happened, for when her mature coat came in, she had shadowy tortoise shell markings beneath her tabby stripes.  I lost her one terrible Friday.  That morning, I discovered the lump in the pit of her right foreleg;  that afternoon, surgery revealed it was just the tip of a large osteosarcoma inside her chest.  The vet called me into the surgery suite and we let her go.  My sweet Sister crossed the Rainbow Bridge at 4:15 pm.  She was 7 years old.

Jett Catt

21 March, 1997 to 11 May, 2009

He was my sweet baby boy, who slept beside my pillow at night.  He had such a loud, sonorous purr.   High strung and shy, a climber and a lover of high places.  Diabetes stole him from me.  We fought it for three years, but it was a losing battle.  Because I loved him, I set him free, and he crossed the Rainbow Bridge at 4:45 pm.  He was 12 years old.