Excuse me for exercising bragging rights, but I just can’t help myself. Tom and I have recently welcomed in a new addition to the family. He’s the cuddliest, cutest, make-me-want-to-squeeze-him-to-death kind of absolute delight.
They can be sneaks. They always have something on their mind. They lurk in the shadows with lazer-focused eyes waiting until one’s back is turned. The light goes out. They make their move. Their paws land in the kitchen sink.
In this case, it was my back that was turned. After washing up the remains of Christmas dishes, I hung it up. But then I forgot to take a glass of water with me.
As I returned and flipped the light on… Surprise!
Skittles. In the kitchen sink. Underneath the faucet. Waiting insistently for water. Ugh!
He was 15 years old. Barney slipped away last week to be alone. We don’t expect him to ever come back. It’s said by many that cats do this when their time draws near. They just vanish suddenly without a goodbye. Our hearts are heavy absent his presence.
Barney was an old shoe. There was a deep soulfulness about him that made one believe he had lived many, many lives.
He showed up out of nowhere in the lower field, barely three months old if that. Hubs scooped him out of the bushes when he saw the little guy moving about in the thicket. The kitten was in need of a home, and the rest is history.
Barney had the respect of the other cats that came along over the years. He taught each of them how to play and defend themselves. But age had started taking it’s toll, and he didn’t want to be bothered. He didn’t want to play anymore. He just wanted to be close to home. He just wanted to be close to us. He began following me from room to room when he wasn’t sleeping. He talked more. He would sit and watch me with intensity for long periods of time. As I would look back into his eyes, there was a connection between us that can’t be placed into words.
This photo of him is one of those times. It was last month, while I was sitting outside one evening at the patio table. He jumped up and just stared at me, quietly. We had many moments like this before his disappearance.
We celebrate loving memories of Barney, and the comfort he provided us over those many years. He was a beloved pet and family member. His spirit will forever be in our hearts, and will never be forgotten.
I just wish I could have been there to usher him over the Rainbow Bridge.
Is it as difficult for you to lose a pet as it is for us? We would love to hear your stories. Please take a few minutes to share them with us.
It’s officially the first day of summer. For some, that means lazy days are ahead. Especially if it involves a warm sunny window.
We’ve all heard the saying “the dog days of summer.” Err…cat days of summer?
After several months of gray skies and icicles dangling off of the eves, what pampered feline wouldn’t want to be snoozing in a sundrenched spot? In the kitchen no less. In a basket of beloved paperback cookbooks collected over the years from supermarket checkouts. Do I get mad? Am I going to make her get down?
Chamois has me wrapped around her little itsy bitsy paws. She was the one that I rescued from that Schnauzer, remember? Lucky for her. Well, lucky for us both.
Here it comes, a half mast acknowledgement from the princess herself.
Clunk. Back down.
Wouldn’t it be nice to not have a care in the world? Looking at her is a gentle reminder of how important it is for each of us to step back every now and then, and just take a break from it all.
So go find yourself a place to curl up, a little spot for quiet time, to recharge, or simply dream away the day. Make it special. I have a secluded area I go to where no one can find me, when I just want to get away and bask in solitude (and the sunshine). There’s nothing like being barefoot, sitting in a chaise lounge with a good book, and listening to the silence of nature.
Where is your favorite place to enjoy the lazy days of summer? I hope you have one. If not, you’re working too hard. Or worrying too much. Or something.
Let’s get out and celebrate summer!
There are some days that I get so engrossed in what I’m doing that hours can go by before I snap out of what I refer to as a “meditative coma.” So many things run through my head. Appointments. Phone calls. Chores. Food to prepare. Pictures to be taken. Posts to be written. What should I do first? The mental checklist of to-do’s go on and on as I motion my way through them all.
Until a brush against the leg ends it all. It’s like a referee blowing a screeching whistle and shouting out “game over!”, but in this case, it happens more subtly.
It’s the cat. Chamois. Motor running. Talkative. Soft touch. Paw batting at the knee. “Time’s up!”
As I jolt to reality I look down as she darts to the top of a stool to get my undivided attention.
Now who can resist those deep golden saucer eyes? I think the expression on her face speaks for itself.
So I pull up a stool next to her and we start chatting. I dote on her and tell her how beautiful she is. It doesn’t take much for her to reach the point of satisfaction that all she has left to do is clean her paws. I think that’s the ultimate sign of a feline’s contentment.
I know. Awhhh…...
She’s still on the stool. Staring at me. “Didn’t you get the memo? No more work. Just pay attention to me.”
Okay, okay. You win Chamois!
And with that, I’ll call things good. Happy weekend all!
The day remains crystal clear in my memory bank.
“And the cat?” the veterinary assistant asked.
Perched on her shoulder was this darling little kitten (they’re all darling, right?). It sprang forward and landed on my shoulder.
You know what they say. We don’t choose them, they choose us.
Well, the rest is history.
Her name is Chamois. She has a motor that won’t quit. She’s the queen of the kingdom.
The kingdom has a Boston Bull Terrier whom she adores. The feeling is not mutual.
There are four other cats. Two male house cats and two female indoor/outdoor cats, depending on the weather. One thinks he’s gonna outsmart Chamois one of these days.
Not a chance.
By the way, she was turned in by her owner because there was a Schnauzer in the household that continued to bite her.
Thank God for Schnauzers.
Do you have any pet rescues to share? I’d love to hear about them.