Dobbie is named after the house elf in the Harry Potter novels. One summer, for about two days, every time I would go in the garage I would see what looked like a rat scurrying and hiding. With all the cats we have, that didn’t seem likely. I finally figured out it was a kitten, about five weeks old. That is way too young to be away from mom. I got Tom and we cornered it against the wall in the garage. The kitten was so small it crawled into the inside of a concrete building block that is part of the garage foundation. Tom put on a pair of gloves, reached in and pulled him out. The kitten was so tiny, but he hissed and made ‘spat’ noises at Tom. I remember how funny Tom thought that was. Here he is, a large grown man and the kitten who, weighed about a pound, thought he could take Tom.
This kitten wrecked havoc on our cats. The only cat that would tolerate the kitten was Uncle Onslow. He would let that kitten totally trash him all day long without losing patience. At the time, we were feeding a feral female cat named Newt (After the little girl in Aliens because she was as tough as that little girl in the movie). Newt would wrap both of her front legs around Dobbie’ s neck and smash him into the floor so he could not move. She would then give him the roughest grooming you ever saw. When Dobbie was older, she taught him how to play and hunt. For such a tiny kitten, he grew into a large, long completely grey cat. He walks low slung, like his ancestors, the big cats. His legs are thick and heavily muscled. Tom says he is a photographers dream because he is the perfect grayscale. For those who only know digital photography, you would not understand that comment. As a young cat, he would stay out at night.
When you would let him in first thing in the morning, he would blast through the house and leap onto the bed to visit anyone who was still asleep. He got the nickname The Trampler from that. He would do what my sister calls Pistons (the kneading cats do with the their front feet) all across the bed while chortling, talking and purring as if telling you everything he saw during the night. Dobbie was known as the house elf because he managed to remove everything that was on any horizontal surface anywhere in the house. It was common to find the dining room tablecloth, along with every that was on the table, lying on the floor when we would get home from work. We were always looking for the TV remote. We found a home for Dobbie with a woman from work who is wheel chair bound. She asked that we keep him until he was litter box trained, since that is hard for her to do from a wheel chair. We were supposed to go on vacation for a week at a cabin by a lake. We took him with us. He was very quiet on the ride there.
The first night at the cabin he was very sick. Half way through the vacation we took him to a veterinarian to have him put down, since he was nearly comatose. The vet said he could save the cat. Tom and I both laughed and asked for how much money. We had seven cats at home. We didn’t need another one. He told us $50. We were expecting $150 to $300, so we said sure. We went back two days later, on the way home and picked him up. He had some kind of kitty ick disease that led to dehydration. We think maybe his mother had it and died from it, but we will never know. We just don’t think a kitten that young would leave its’ mother willingly. Tom told me I had to drive home. He sat in the passenger seat in the truck with the kitten in his arms the whole five hour drive home. That kitten worked him with every ounce of cuteness he had in him. He looked up into Toms eyes the whole time. He would open his mouth wide and give a small pitiful meow every once in awhile. When we pulled into the driveway, I said ‘we aren’t giving that kitten away, are we?” Tom looked at me and said his home was here.
Dobbie is named after the house elf in the Harry Potter novels. One summer, for about two days, every time I would go in the garage I would see what looked like a rat scurrying and hiding. With all the cats we have, that didn’t seem likely. I finally figured out it was a kitten, about five weeks old. That is way too young to be away from mom. I got Tom and we cornered it against the wall in the garage. The kitten was so small it crawled into the inside of a concrete building block that is part of the garage foundation. Tom put on a pair of gloves, reached in and pulled him out. The kitten was so tiny, but he hissed and made ‘spat’ noises at Tom. I remember how funny Tom thought that was. Here he is, a large grown man and the kitten who, weighed about a pound, thought he could take Tom. 
This kitten wrecked havoc on our cats. The only cat that would tolerate the kitten was Uncle Onslow. He would let that kitten totally trash him all day long without losing patience. At the time, we were feeding a feral female cat named Newt (After the little girl in Aliens because she was as tough as that little girl in the movie). Newt would wrap both of her front legs around Dobbie’ s neck and smash him into the floor so he could not move. She would then give him the roughest grooming you ever saw. When Dobbie was older, she taught him how to play and hunt. For such a tiny kitten, he grew into a large, long completely grey cat. He walks low slung, like his ancestors, the big cats. His legs are thick and heavily muscled. Tom says he is a photographers dream because he is the perfect grayscale. For those who only know digital photography, you would not understand that comment. As a young cat, he would stay out at night. 
When you would let him in first thing in the morning, he would blast through the house and leap onto the bed to visit anyone who was still asleep. He got the nickname The Trampler from that. He would do what my sister calls Pistons (the kneading cats do with the their front feet) all across the bed while chortling, talking and purring as if telling you everything he saw during the night. Dobbie was known as the house elf because he managed to remove everything that was on any horizontal surface anywhere in the house. It was common to find the dining room tablecloth, along with every that was on the table, lying on the floor when we would get home from work. We were always looking for the TV remote. We found a home for Dobbie with a woman from work who is wheel chair bound. She asked that we keep him until he was litter box trained, since that is hard for her to do from a wheel chair. We were supposed to go on vacation for a week at a cabin by a lake. We took him with us. He was very quiet on the ride there. 
The first night at the cabin he was very sick. Half way through the vacation we took him to a veterinarian to have him put down, since he was nearly comatose. The vet said he could save the cat. Tom and I both laughed and asked for how much money. We had seven cats at home. We didn’t need another one. He told us $50. We were expecting $150 to $300, so we said sure. We went back two days later, on the way home and picked him up. He had some kind of kitty ick disease that led to dehydration. We think maybe his mother had it and died from it, but we will never know. We just don’t think a kitten that young would leave its’ mother willingly. Tom told me I had to drive home. He sat in the passenger seat in the truck with the kitten in his arms the whole five hour drive home. That kitten worked him with every ounce of cuteness he had in him. He looked up into Toms eyes the whole time. He would open his mouth wide and give a small pitiful meow every once in awhile. When we pulled into the driveway, I said ‘we aren’t giving that kitten away, are we?” Tom looked at me and said his home was here.
