The Saga of Monty

*In Memorium, Lord Edgmont 'Monty' Montgomery Montague, 2011 - 2022*
*Also Known as: Big Fuzzy, Fluffy, Monster, Fluff Qat, Big Qat*
*At one point, He was tiny!!*	The Youngest here with the Fuzzy Tail Quaalude Prozac Diva Monty Galadriel	*He could fit on a windowsill.....*

	*Still Little, Annoying Pro in the Box*

		*Showing Off the Floof*

*Serve me my Meade!*	Monty with Megan	With Frankie



Monty with Quay

	Frankie, Quay, Monty / Small, Medium, LARGE

I will miss this regular morning convocation	Quay - Monty
*Click on the photo to see the Paige Grooming the Prince under the watchful eyes of the Dowager Queen*

Monty - Frankie		Monty with his Little Lion

	*This is my Pouty Glamour Shot!*

*Don't Mess With Me, I'm the Prince!*		*That WindowSill is now Way Too Small!!*

*Are You Not Listening? Feed Me!!*	The Prince on His Throne Frankie, Quay, Monty	*From his last Royal Photo Shoot*

	*GoodBye Sweet Prince*

Megan's Monty Story, Written January 12, 2012 "Lord Edgmont 'Monty' Montgomery Montague" Monty came to us in mid-August 2011. He appeared under my car one morning -- a light gray and white tabby with big front paws -- very skittish. A few days later, Paul and I decided we would start feeding him (we also thought he was a she as we saw no visible evidence to the contrary!). The "little cat" or "L.C." (Elsie!), as she was named, came back every morning for a week -- at first eating crunchy food and then sweeping us off our feet so much that we gave her wet food, as well. One morning, L.C. didn't appear. That afternoon two girls were standing outside our house with cat food and a box. My heart sunk. They were trying to capture L.C. I immediately ascertained that they were, indeed, trying to find and keep the kitten, but they, like I, couldn't find him that day. They gave us their phone number and I promised to call if we found him (her!). L.C. came back two days later and was bold enough to eat on the front step while we sat nearby. She let Paul pet her head. Paul said, "It's now or never if you want to keep her." I ran upstairs and found a box and a towel. It broke my heart to put her in the box; she looked so scared and mewed pathetically, but quieted down when we put the lid on top. Paul took her to the vet and I went off to work. Later that day, Paul called to say she was a HE and now we needed a new name. "Monty" seemed to fit since he appeared to us on Edgmont Avenue. (And his full name was established a few months later when we realized what a regal lion he was growing into! He needed a more regal name!) Monty was a healthy, curious, rambunctious kitten! The first night he spent in our house we put him in my room upstairs and put two baby gates across the doorway so he could see out and the other four cats could see him. He was wary at first, staying on the couch as one cat after another walked by and hissed at the newcomer, or parked outside the gate and growled. After a day and a half, Monty climbed up the two baby gates and jumped off the top gate six feet to the floor! He was out! We followed him around to make sure he didn't get stuck anywhere or hurt by something (or some kitty!), but it was soon apparent that he was aiming to be king of the castle. Over the course of a few days he practiced his pounce on sleeping, unsuspecting kitties more than once. Since August, he has worked his way up the hierarchy (or so he thinks). Monty carries himself (and his copious amounts of long fur) with an air of superiority despite being put in his place by Quaalude daily with bops on the noggin. Galadriel gives him a wide berth and hisses if he gets too close. Prozac -- fraidy cat that he is -- has reluctantly given up several of "his" places around the house. He has lost complete control of the breakfast and dining tables -- now sharing territory with the only other male cat in the house. My sweet little Diva (she is once again the smallest critter in the house now that Monty has eclipsed her in both body and fur size) is struggling to get along with Monty. It's not like he's making it easy -- he chases her endlessly, until he's tired and she spits and hisses and growls. He's a little nicer to her now that he's neutered, but she is still his daily target. Monty has sprayed urine on several spots in my bathroom -- I suppose I should feel lucky since it means he's vying for my territory, but mostly I'm just annoyed to have to clean up the mess. The most wonderful thing about Monty is his soft fluffy fur -- which has given him the nicknames "Fluffy", "Floofy", "Fuzzy", and "Big Fuzz". Other nicknames include "Montague", "Monster", "Little Guy" (ha!), and "Fluff Cat". I sure am glad our house of four cats became a house of five!