Our precious Maine Coon, Zee, has been gone nearly two months, yet somehow the world did not stop. Not for my pain, nor for his significance. There was no parade. No national holiday created. No indication from passersby I’d come upon in stores, restaurants, or wherever,  who cared to wonder how I was, or how I was coping, as surely they could see my heart had nearly stopped beating from a mile away, the pain of loss so deeply embedded in me. But no, none of that happened. Notwithstanding the kindness of friends, family, and my beloved cat community who have supported me with cards, gifts, comments, and more, life moves on without the courtesy of stopping, thus requiring me to manage my pain and emptiness within the frame of daily existence as I mourn an extraordinary cat.

Zee’s urn is front and center and one day will have his picture on it, too.

I’m still in a fog of denial. We have his wooden urn sitting on the shelf of our armoire, residing among our other angels – Bailey, Kit, Bandit, Jazz, and Harley. There is a lovely card from the vet’s office – Zee’s beautiful paw print emblazoned on it, with touching and heartfelt signed messages from the office staff. After all, Zee had become like family to them, too. One day I will get a frame for it – something appropriately kitty-related so as to acknowledge the beauty, and one day I will put a picture of Zee on his resting container like I did for Jazz and Harley. Read more

A true Bengal, Zoey is a wild thing at heart.

One might think that perhaps as one ages, it would be done gracefully, with a certain slowing down, calm, and reserve. That, however, is not how our dear Bengal, Zoey, rolls. Today is her birthday, and at 14 she remains loud (breaking sound barriers loud), playfully active – running, jumping, and climbing up onto to anything she can, as well as an avid and skilled hunter of plush stuffed animals.

That said, she does have a quieter, softer side. One that is a beautiful biscuit-making, motor-purring machine when she’s ready to settle in your lap for a nap. From loud to quiet and everything in-between, we love you dearly, sweet Zoey, and wish for many more happy birthdays!

Zoey can also be wonderfully sweet and loving.

When Zee first arrived at our house on November 12, 2005, he was a tiny, fuzzy brown tabby 9-week-old Maine Coon kitten that I gave Dan as a housewarming gift when he moved in with me. He joined then furmates, Bandit (a dog), and cats Kit, Jazz, and Harley, all long since angels. How he would change our lives could not have been predicted at the time, but he quickly stole our hearts and it was evident early on he was a very special cat. Read more

The feeding assembly line!

Life in our household of eight felines is relatively militant, especially when it comes to their morning routine and breakfast. It’s a dizzying, exhausting affair, at least for me. I wake up at 5:45 a.m. and begin my trek to the kitchen. First stop – scooping the litter boxes. If I’m lucky, it’s a quick scoop and go. Often, however, one of them will decide my scooping is a signal for them to go again, so I must wait for that pomp (or poop) and circumstance to end so I can finish. Read more

Early on the morning of February 12, 2009, four gloriously beautiful and healthy kittens were born to cat mom, Zoey, and cat dad, Zee. We kept three of the kittens – Peanut, Rolz, and Mia. And the fourth, Zeuss Catt, moved to his wonderful forever family in Boston, MA. How absolutely surreal is it, then, that thirteen years later we are all seniors! The “kittens” are 13, which equates to 68 human years according to the guidelines of the American Animal Hospital Association (AAHA).* I’m 61, clearly a senior and so are Zee and Zoey. Read more