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As a child she had clutched the strays to a skinny chest begging to keep just this one and was always denied. Now shafts of sunlight catch random cats curled on antique quilts or on windowsills between the ruffles of curtains. She smiles small smiles and sighs small sighs of contentment, makes another cup of tea and ignores the cat hairs in the sugar bowl. |
Introduction| It is by no accident that I eagerly devote my time and energy to the cat rescue that I am involved with. My work for them on behalf of homeless cats is a natural progression of the many strays that I have picked up over the years, the love and compassion I have always felt for these creatures, and my burning desire to see a change in my lifetime... for all animals. |
 "So, Diane, how many cats do you have now?" friends and relatives would always ask. |
 We met in the late 60's. Two wild and crazy young kids who fell madly in love. He was handsome, kind, charming and funny. And he liked cats! Only after the wedding, did I reveal my lifelong plan to acquire the houseful of cats that I was never allowed to have. Within months we picked up 7. As happy as I was, I couldn't rid myself of visions of the ones we'd left behind to survive on the streets. Had to think of something...
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August - 1969
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The year was 1969. It was a hot August morning and already the sun hung low enough to broil the pavement. From the window I could see friends and neighbors lining the sidewalk in anticipation of the van we all rented to whisk us away to Woodstock.... but I never made it. |
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Unexpectedly, after days of begging, Jay agreed to let me rescue some of the cats in our back yard. I say "begging" because I was determined to keep one... even though I had taken 7 from the streets within months after getting married. The van came and went. Armed with empty cardboard boxes, and enough Tender Vittles to feed a cat army, we headed for the yard. Woodstock? There were cats waiting to be rescued! As I recall, none of those cats were thrilled at the prospect of being rescued and it was no easy task. The days work brought only 2. We found a home for one, and kept the second one. Now we were up to 8. |
| Although I was no stranger to picking up strays, it quickly became my passion in life. Weekends were now spent searching the neighborhood on our bicycle built for 2... looking for cast-off antiques to restore and cats to rescue. In the midst of all of this, and probably to get *even* with me, Jay announced that he wanted a dog. So, we got ourselves an adorable Samoyed doggie and named him Casper the Friendly White Ghost. |  A dog they got? A dog??? Why did they get a dawwwg??? |
As the years passed...| I was able to remove a good number of strays from the streets and find them homes. So many stories to be told and so little space to tell them in. Here are 10 tiny rescue stories along with the photos I managed to dig up. | |||||||||||||||
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Among the early rescues the first one that comes to mind is the very pregnant white cat we met up with who was digging in the trash can for food, with what seemed like her last strength. Except for her bulging belly, she was a bag of bones. Momma cat was an easy catch. She welcomed my outstretched arms. Realizing that she was due to give birth any day, I lined a carton with towels and set it in a quiet corner.   The next morning found the box empty... but there were 5 white kitties in the closet whose door she had somehow managed to open. Eventually, homes were found for each and every one of them, including momma cat. It was a sad time. I wanted to keep them all. |
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It was a beautiful summer day. Everyone was enjoying the boardwalk and its many amusements. Everyone but this wanderer. She strolled along the boardwalk keeping pace with the many tourists and locals, but it didn't appear as though she were having a good time or heading anywhere in particular. I was sure that someone dumped her there in the hopes of losing her. Because the Boardwalk cat thought that every bit of food had her name on it, she did not get along with the other cats in the house. Fortunately, she was placed in a one cat household within days. |
We spotted this kitty in the basement of our apartment building drinking from a puddle of stagnant water. She looked up at me with the saddest eyes. I took her upstairs to feed her and offer her some fresh water and she ravaged the food like there was no tomorrow. The rest is history. She crossed the bridge many, many years later. |
 He was known as "Friskies" ever since the day I photographed him alongside a box of his favorite-can't get enough of a good thing-food, Friskies. My intention was to submit the photo to the manufactuer and make him a star. Despite my intention, his photo never graced supermarket shelves across the U.S. Nevertheless, Friskies was a very special cat. This smoke-grey guy was 8-10 years old and weighed only 6 lbs when we met. His narrow white ruff and matching mustache, coupled with his frailness, gave him the appearance of an old man with a beard.
Friskies was found roaming the streets on a cold winter day. His ribs were protruding and fresh battle wounds covered his body. Only he knew how long he called the streets home. I managed to grab him while offering him food. Although he was starving, he backed off after every mouthful and was not an easy catch. As there was no carrier to put him in, by the time we reached home I had incurred many battle wounds, myself. Friskies was about 18 years old when he crossed the bridge. |
The Late 70's
| In the late 70's Jay and I parted ways. The rescues continued, at times with the help a neighbor. There was always a crew of sturdy cats in the back yard who were fed daily with the help of neighbors who joined the cause. It wasn't possible to pick up every stray in sight so, with a few exceptions, I went for the ones who were in trouble.... |
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Headed for the beach: From the sound of its pathetic cries, there was a very young cat stuck underneath the parked car. I got flat down on the sidewalk, shimmied myself under the car, and groped around until I felt a soft puff of fur lodged up in the front tire. This little one was maybe 6 weeks old and so covered with grease that his markings were difficult to determine. I, too, was covered with grease and the white bikini went into the trash as soon as we arrived home. Little Red needed more than a bath. Most of his fur had to be cut off. He was also loaded with fleas. After a few days of cleaning/defleaing, he found a good home with my neighbor. Little Red lived a long and happy life with Terri and her dog, Shorty. |
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The sign in front of the house said "No Trespassing" but I quickly climbed the iron gate in an attempt to get the three-legged kitty I had just spotted. What I got was a good bite. Kitty slipped out of my hands but not before his teeth pierced me deeply. What I didn't realize was that the elderly couple who owned the house had been watching me. They were distressed about the bite, pulled me inside to disinfect my hand, and begged me to see a doctor. They tried to convince me that the bite could have transmitted Rabies as they were sure that "the cat must have lost his leg due to a bite from an infected rodent." I didn't believe a word of what they were saying, yet for the next 60 days I constantly checked in the mirror to make sure I wasn't foaming from the mouth. |
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Headed for the bus stop: He was sitting on the curb staring blankly at the sidewalk. The little tabby was about about 8 weeks old and his momma was nowhere in sight. His fur was matted, he was flea infested, and he was weak. I picked him up and walked towards home. His soulful eyes followed my every move yet he never made a sound. It was too late in the evening to seek medical attention. Using an eyedropper I fed him a bit of milk diluted with warm water, lined a box with towels, put a small wind-up clock under the towels to simulate his mother's heartbeat, and set the box alongside the bed. My intention was to get him to the vet first thing in the morning. When I awoke the next morning he was dead. The little tabby never made it. There wasn't a breath of life in his body. I was in shock and must have sat on the floor beside the box for hours before knocking on my neighbor's door. She dug a grave and buried him in the yard. I was unable to take part in this. The little tabby is still very much in my thoughts. I am thankful that he experienced a few hours of comfort and human kindness before he left for the bridge. |
Soon it was 1990|
After many years of living in the same apartment building, I relocated to a co-op. My 3 cats were not overjoyed. The move left them frantic and they hid under the furniture for days. For me, the hard part was leaving so many good neighbors and friends behind.
As a matter of habit I never left home without a few pouches of Tender Vittles, but for the longest time there were no takers in sight. I soon found out why. There is a house around the corner where the neighborhood strays congregate. They are fed daily by the homeowner, and are not in desperate need of food or rescue. Had my rescue days come to a sudden halt? Where were all the cats in trouble? Eventually, I met up with a few. Here are just two. |
It was many months after spotting Tiger in the back yard that I was able to finally pick her up. Although I ran down with food each time her desperate cries called me to the window, I couldn't manage to get my hands on her for some time. Her beautiful striped markings scattered with perfectly formed bulls-eyes was evident through all of the matting and dirt that covered her fragile body. I learned from the homeowners who fed the strays that this was not one of the cats who showed up at their door for dinner. Even though her ribs were protruding from lack of nourishment, the cat was a beauty. After cleaning her up I felt confident that I'd be able to find a home for her. Knowing that the woman who lived in the apartment under mine liked cats, I invited her up to see this prize. It was her husband who needed convincing and I really had to give him the hard sell. After repeatedly assuring him that I would help with any problem the cat presented, and that I would take her back if need be, Tiger found a loving home. Years later the couple divorced and Marcia and Tiger went on to a new home. |
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The TV blared with bulletins of the oncoming blizzard. Heeding the warning, I went out to get a few staples before the snow attacked. While chatting with neighbors in the lobby of the building, from the corner of my eye I noticed a mosaic of color approaching the building's glass door. It was a calico cat! Someone commented that the cat had been there off and on all day. With a little coaxing she came to me. Clearly, this cat was either newly lost or dumped. I took her upstairs and telephoned Kings Highway Cat Rescue who immediately came for her. The next morning there was a blizzard the likes of which I have never seen... and by that evening, the snow was still coming down so hard that I was afraid it would soon reach and cover my windows. The calico surely would have frozen to death or maybe even been buried alive in the mountainous snowdrifts. Days later word came from the shelter that one of the volunteers fell in love with her and took her home. |
August - 2003
 | I end this page with a smile and with fond memories of all of the wonderful cats that I was privileged to share a bit of my life with through the years. To Little Red, to the Boardwalk Cat, to Friskies, to Momma Cat... to each and every one of you: "I miss you all and think of you often. May there be many mice and many pleasures across the Bridge." |
A staggering number of strays are euthanized each year in pounds across the United States. This number does not take into account the many more who suffer and silently live their lives out in desperation, only to die in solitude on the streets. The purpose of this page is to appeal to you to lend a helping hand.
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#@! A DAWWG, A HAUNTED HOUSE STORY.... AND NOW A WITCH?? I'M GETTIN' OUTTA HERE BEFORE SHE CONJURES UP SOMETHIN' ELSE!
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Two black cats rescued from an old abandoned house that was rumored to be haunted (really!) and filled with strays. It took an enormous amount of courage to rummage through the "haunted" house with a flashlight. I refer to them as "these two" because back then I rarely named any of the cats.
Don't purchase cats from pet shops or breeders. There are too many waiting for homes in pounds, in rescue facilities, and on the streets.
