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After work snack time for the kitties at Pine Knot

rDick and the cats
         FeediKitt

What's Missing at Pine Knot?
    If you have come to Pine Knot before you may remember we are particularly fond of our dogs and cats. We are sad to say we lost four members of our furry family. Three were 18 year old cats, two were born here and the third found us when he was a starving stray.  A pitiful orange and white tom cat came one day in August when the Eupatorium purpureum was blooming along our roadsides. Although we already had four cats we could not turn this fellow down, so Mr. Joe Pye Weed joined our family. Joe designated himself nursery greet cat and he took his duties seriously, frequently accompanying customers around the whole nursery. He would go out with the potting crew and settle into a flat to supervise or help with the transplanting by walking down each flat of seedlings watching for mice.  Joe had the kindest, most friendly nature we have met in a cat, he liked everyone. From the first this stray wasn't afraid of our dogs, of small children or strangers as is the case with many cats. His purr rumbled in his chest from the day he came until he died im my arms. Joe Pye Weed
      
    White Socks and Baby Shirt were born at the farm. Our daughter Helen and her house mates adopted two kittens while they were at N.C.S.U. When Helen brought the two sisters home on Spring Break. As sometimes happens during Spring Break both girls met an intriguing country tom and the Girls Went Wild. When they came back to the farm for Summer Break both were heavily pregnant. Not too many days later they had kittens. The litters were combined and the new mothers shared their duties, each nursing all the kittens in her turn. After a few days it was impossible to tell which kitten went with which mother. Three  of the young ones  became our cats. Popsicle, and orange and white tom, White Socks a gray and white female and Baby Shirt a tabby male.
White Socks enjoyed her kitten-hood outside and for a couple of years was known as a Butterfly Destroyer. She would leap four feet into the air to capture a butterfly innocently feeding on a Buddliea bloom. She would come in with wings sticking out of each side of her mouth. After several years Socks decided she preferred indoor living and usually stayed inside unless we were  late coming in from work. Then she would come out to the end of the walk in her White Socks and howl at us. If no one responded in the proper amount of time she would come out to the shipping house and most indignantly,  remind us it was way past time to come inside and give the kitties their after work snack.(Ckick on image at left to see a larger photo of Dick and our 6 cats at snack time.) Socks spent the last few years of her life in a basket on our kitchen counter where she could supervise the preparation of any food stuff that might be acceptable to cats. Socks died peacefully in her sleep, a gentle old lady.  White Socks in a Tree
     
     Baby Shirt chose me (Judith) to be his person when he was just a few days old. He would stumble out of the kitten nest at the sound of my voice even before his eyes were open. His name, Baby Shirt and Pants, was derived from the fact that when he was a kitten his fur was darker on his hind end than on the front end. This gave his the appearance of wearing a shirt and a pair of pants. He was a small cat, never more than 5 or 6 pounds, but in his heart he was a lion. 
For 18 years he would greet me each morning, and accompany me through my day. He would ride on my shoulder, with his front paws hanging on to my back and his hind end cupped in my hand. sit on my computer, in my chair, help me with whatever I was doing and sleep beside me each night. Baby sat with me patiently every hour as I wrote and came running when I called his name at bedtime. His fur smelled of sunshine and moss and his purr warmed my soul. I loved him unreservedly and I see his shadow everywhere I go.  Baby Shirt in my chair

           
Tristan was one of the sweetest Labs we have ever had the honour to share our lives with. Like all of us, he had  a few problems. One of the most noticible being his obsission with sticks of any kind. When he was a puppy we spent time tossing sticks for him. He loved it above all else and began to want any and every stick he saw. If we threw a stick out of the garden he would charge through the border to retrieve the stick. He was a Labrador Retriever after all.  It didn't matter to him if an old lady happened to be using that stick to walk, "Hey, she has two!" he thought, as he riped one of the canes from her hand. A friend who was assisited by a beautiful carved Aftican walking stick visited one day and Tris came barreling up behind him and grabbed the stick in his teeth, almost upending our friend. It became apparent even to us, perhaps the dullest of parents, that our puppy had outgrown his cute stick play. We were forced to limit, then restrict, then totally eliminate his stick play. We bought soft toys. We bought hard toys, none were as good as just plain old sticks. Visitors to the gardens, especially those with children would see this adorable dog come running up to them with a stick in his mouth. When he dropped the stick at their feet they understood his request and tossed the stick for him. A couple of times he almost up ended a baby or two to get a stick.  We put a sign in the parking area which read "Please do not toss sticks for dogs" hoping this would help prevent visitors from supporting his habit.  Tris had other ideas though. He would greet visitors with a stick in his mouth and when they opened the door to ther car he would drop it in their laps, hoping they hadn't seen the sign.  We never understood why such a  number of people ignored the sign. Finally his stick chasing slowed down, not by anything his sapless humans did, but by his bad hips. As the years went by he became more and more infirm. Our wonderful veternarian Dr Alan Dahl  who has assisited so many of our animals (and saved Rosie's life!) did all he could to ease Tris's pain. Clarksville Vet. Clinic  We were even to the state of beginning to discuss the Awful Option but couldn't bring ourselves to have a friend put down as long as his tail thumped with such joy when we entered the room.  While we were at PPA in the summer of 2007 we recieved the telephone call telling us that Tris had died.  Tris

phone 434-252-1990        fax 434-252-0768