In June 2003, at about 11 pm, our front doorbell rang.  I opened the door to find a large box sitting on the porch.  Taped on top of the box was a note that said, "Please take care of my kitties."

When the box was opened, a scrawny Siamese cat jumped out and ran off to the edge of the lawn.  We peered inside the box to find 4 tiny kittens.  I sighed.

We carried the box to the back shed, with the mother trailing behind. 

Tuxedo was one of those 4 kittens; he officially became part of our family in November 2003.  But how he became one of our cats is a very interesting story!

As we were trying to do with all the kittens, we took Tuxedo to the vet to be neutered one morning.  That afternoon, we went to pick him up and take him home.  As had been my habit, I carried him in my arms out the door.  That was a baaaad idea.  Tux, groggy still from the anesthesia, took one look at the ground and bit, clawed, and chewed his way out of my arms.  In a flash, he was gone.  I went back into the vet's office to deal with the blood dripping down my chest and off my gnawed knuckle, then we went looking for him.

For 3 days, off and on, we looked and called him.  We put up posters, talked to nearby stores, walked up and down the railroad tracks calling his name.  Nothing.

Finally, in desperation - and mostly so I could know that I'd tried everything - I looked up "animal communicators" on the internet; I came across the website of Hilary Renaissance.  Our friend Lisa, who had been closest to and most involved with Tuxedo, called Hilary and described what had happened to her.  She told Lisa that she would communicate with Tux, and to call her back in 3 hours.  (I was thinking, "well, this was a waste of money.")  Lisa called me at the office 2-1/2 hours later to tell me what ... ahem ... Tuxedo had said to Hillary.  She offered to follow the directions Hillary gave her.

Hilary had said that Tuxedo showed her that he'd gone over the railroad tracks behind the vet's office, up a hill, then stopped under a big white van (it was, as Lisa found out later, an RV).  He then went down a dirt path, to a clump of weeds, went down what appeared to be some broken cement steps, and was now in a black hole.  Hilary couldn't tell if he was still in this world, or had crossed over.  Lisa followed those directions, stopping to sit on a broken chunk of cement.  She held out an open can of tuna fish and softly called "Tuxedo."  He walked out of a 5 gallon black bucket, directly to her.

After he ate, she carried him to her truck, put him inside where he curled up next to Kayla (Lisa's dog) and went to sleep. 
I came home about an hour later - and there was Tuxedo, in the driveway, with Lisa.

We decided that Tuxedo needed to be one of our inside cats.

Hilary rescued Tuxedo twice:  read about it here.

Tuxedo's Photo Album


Tuxedo relaxing on the sofa.

Tuxedo likes sleeping on the towels in the bathroom

Tuxedo takes his turn in the mail box.

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