You both did not want an ORANGE cat, and for sure after the two mini rescue girl torti cats you'd had- you didn't want a 25 pound giant male cat. I was taken to the vet- I only had a small bite on one leg- the blood was not mine! When I stopped at the church, covered in blood- that's when my life changed. One day I decided to pick a fight with 2 Jack Russells and a Golden retriever. I could chase the big ones and bite them in the butt, or I could ride the smaller ones home. So I became the island cat from hell, or “devil cat” as some of the locals called me! Dogs provided a distraction. Many would pass by, some would even pet me, and I relied on the local 'cat ladies' to feed me. And I'd get lonely and go out to the street looking for attention. I survived heat, cold, torrential rain- even hurricanes. I decided I'd rather live under the old house and take my chances. When the last “Mom” moved in with her boyfriend and a d-o-g, I'd had enough. For 12 years I was passed to 3 different parents on a small island in the Bahamas.
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