Snerk – who could ever guess that abject failure could be so entertaining? 
When we had 10 cats, we ended up trying to rescue a gorgeous orange classic tabby. We dubbed him Terence.
Terence caused chaos and dismay, and Albert lived in the fireplace for months while we struggled to find a new situation for Terence.
By that time, Terence’s name had morphed into Terence the Terrible. Eventually, my sister took him. Bless her. And Albert could come out of the fireplace to continue his never ending struggle against persecution and the existence of Irving.
A few years later, my mother got an orange cat who resembled Terence. She immediately named him Ivan the Terrible.
We’ve got lots of Terribles in the family!
Peace has broken out in conflict-ravaged Catastrophe City. This morning the whole crew were back to the usual routine: Sally and Pumpkin on the bed and intermittently on me; the others lurking about the bedroom waiting for the food human to arise and serve them. Breakfast was the usual amicable mob scene.
It took a while, though, for the residents to believe yesterday that HE was gone. Squash stayed on top of the kitchen cabinets for many hours after being dragged from his basement lair. He’d gaze down at the human inquiring “You okay now, little buddy?” with “Maybe. What’s it to you, you traitor?” in his eyes. But even he came around enough to descend to floor level late in the evening. Fred emerged from his under-bureau bunker in cautious stages. The others moved about the house with mingled relief and wariness. There was a definite air of “Is it true? Is it REALLY true? It’s really, REALLY safe to come out now?” about the house. Still, by the time I went to bed the cats were a relaxed and happy crew.
Yep, it was indeed the right thing to do, to take Ringo back. Little Sally, who’s standing in my lap purring as I type this, heartily agrees.
Ten cats, jsgoddess? Wow. I’ve sworn never to get into double digits; then I’d truly be certifiable. 
Your Albert is indeed a handsome fellow.
RTF, you did what you had to do for your cats. Some cats just want to be “only” cats and will intiminate all around them. Glad to hear yours are returning to their normal selves, and you’ve given the shelter information that will help them place him into a suitable home.
I know you miss him, but I am sure the others can purr you past that!
Ten cats was haaaard. Terence pushed us to eleven and it was beyond hard and into rampant insanity.
Albert is terribly sweet and handsome (aside from the freaky pupil thing), but boy is he dumb.
All is well in Catastrophe City. All felines have resumed their normal lives, with great relief and rejoicing. Squash especially is ecstatic. Poor little guy, he was the most terrified, the slowest to recover, but now that he has, well, I have a Velcro cat. He’s demanding laptime when he isn’t purring his little brains out lying on top of the recliner snugged against the top of my head. He tells me how happy he is, in his scratchy little voice. He’s mad for playing fetch, a game he taught himself and loves to play with balled up Hershey’s Kisses wrappers.
Life is once again good.
You can tell when we have Hershey Kisses in the house by the little balled-up wrappers scattered around the floor, and the occasional mad cat scurrying as they bat one up and down the hallway. They do love those wrappers.
I visited Ringo at the shelter Sunday afternoon. He was happily playing bat the dangly toy with some other visitors when I left, feeling happy myself at the news that he had a new adoptive family who’d be taking him in a few days, once some work being done on their house was over; and that there was a second couple next in line to take him if the first fell through. In either home he’d have no rivals for his throne.
That’s good news about Ringo. Thank you for the update.
Yay! He was too pretty and friendly not to find a good home.
Indeed. Ringo is one cat who will always land on his feet.
ETF, just wondering how your cats are. How many do you have now, and how do they get along with one another?
Well, after Ringo, I adopted his kitten, Peanut, and he turned out to be fat, happy, and easy to get along with among the other boys. Later I adopted Schooner as a kitten from the same shelter, a double-pawed limpet of a cat who is, one way or another, at the heart of all mischief in the house.
For a while I also took in an elderly pair, male and female, of Ocicats, Tanya and Tomba, but for different reasons they both failed to fit into a multiple-cat household and had to go back to the shelter; both I’m told found very good homes. After their return I was persuaded by the animal control officer to adopt four-month-old Stanley and Smedley, orange tiger brothers, who have grown into rollicking big boys – not as big as the late Eddy and Freddy, but almost as big as Teddy.
Oh, yes: Eddy died of a wasting disease, and Freddy died of urinary problems, both being euthanized when it was time. Teddy survives, but isolated in his own realm.
So currently I have eight – one all-black female, seven orange tiger boys with more or less white, and one sturdy black/brown double-pawed tabby boy. Other than minor spats here and there, they all gt along reasonably well, with some intense buddy bonds, like between Squash and Peanut.
Feeding time (3x/day) is…interesting.
Wait… 1 + 7 + 1 = 9, not 8. 
Looks like Teddy has a pretty sweet deal with his little condo there!
