Free The Amazing Life of Cats by Candida Baker

she did in life. I know when Spot is walking with me now, because even though I cannot see her I can feel her and am filled with a joy that is like warm sunshine. There are other creatures, and a rare person, who also seem to notice her with me. Spot is here because she likes this place. It is still her earthly home and even though she can travel anywhere she wants at any time, she always comes to me when I call her. Sometimes, sitting at my computer, I feel her lightly brush my bare leg with her fur. Sometimes I see her from the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look she has disappeared into the shadows.
    Now, more than a year later, we have another wonderful kitten. A Ragamuffin breed, he was given to us in circumstances filled with synchronous coincidence that leaves us in no doubt that Spot picked him for us to fill with joy the deep hole she left in our lives. His name is Socks. As a result of my veterinarian experiences with Spot, we chose to take a different health path for Socks and find an alternative to allopathic medicine for him. Just at the time we decided this, a friend introduced us to Dr Jennifer Preston, holistic veterinarian. Dr Preston has opened our eyes to the fact that there is a healthy alternative to the current widespread common use of vaccinations in animals. She provides a lot of excellent information on her website: www.holisticvetexpert.com .
    I am still shocked and amazed that I was so naive. But, I also know that I am not alone in blindly trusting allopathic animal doctors’ advice. I am also grateful that I want to learn and understand more. On behalf of Spot and Socks, Mack and I encourage you to do the same.
    Mary Michele McLaughlin

Some people say man is the most
    dangerous animal on the planet.
    Obviously those people have never met
    an angry cat.
    Lilian Johnson



Igor

    E legant and handsome, true to his name he was a prince and a dancer.
    He was a chocolate point Siamese cat with the bluest of blue eyes. When he purred, his entire body shook; when he was extremely affectionate—which was often—he headbutted with a force that almost gave you concussion! His sister Trouchka was very gentle, ladylike, and equally beautiful.
    Igor, however, had one very bad habit, from my point of view—he was an adventurer. He would disappear without a word of warning, but always returned home in time for dinner. As our home backs onto Mount Taylor in the Australian Capital Territory, the foothills were a wonderful playground for him. He knew nothing of the dangers that might await him there: deadly snakes, unfriendly dogs and people. He only knew the fun of pouncing on an unsuspecting grasshopper or following an interesting scent trail.
    ‘Where have you been? You’ve been gone for hours!’ I would scold, and Trouchka would take a swipe at him when he eventually returned, as if to say: ‘That’s for all the worry you’ve caused us!’
    One evening he was late for dinner. At first I merely thought it was uncharacteristic of him, but as minutes turned into hours I became really worried. I took a torch and wandered round the foothills, calling and then stopping to listen—surely the familiar throaty yowl would answer? But there was silence. My heartbeat quickened when I heard a thump, but it was only a kangaroo, startled by a stranger in its territory.
    Where was Igor? Had he been attacked by a stray dog? Was he injured and hiding? It was getting late, so I reluctantly decided to return home before the family came to look for me.
    As I discussed Igor’s disappearance with my family, they speculated about what could have happened to him—perhaps someone had stolen him, or he had been injured and couldn’t get home or, worse, he had been killed. But I was adamant that he was okay. ‘He’s not dead,’ I told them. ‘He’s out there somewhere in trouble. I know it.’
    It was a very long night. Another search in the morning yielded nothing. I stopped everyone I met and asked them if they