June 21st – it’s officially the first day of summer, although here in South Florida the distinction between one season and the next can be a bit elusive. Regardless, I’m blessed with a glorious tropical backyard, one that’s safe and secure for supervised evening outings with my feline gang after they’ve eaten their dinner. Recently, I’ve been able to capture some beautiful moments of them enjoying the fresh air and I thought today would be a great day to share some of those images in celebration of summer. You’ll note most of the pictures are of Kizmet – he’s by far the most cooperative when it comes to sitting still for photos. Others who complied are Zoey, Shadow, and Jazmine. I hope you enjoy them and Happy Summer! P.S. to enlarge any of the photos, just click on them!

Kizmet on pavers.

Shadow enjoys the heat of the deck stones.

Kizmet responds to whatever noise in the distance that has caught his attention.

Zoey is positive nobody can see her.

Shadow looking ever the glorious panther.

Kizmet reflecting on a stone bench.

Jazmine looks lovely framed by the colorful foliage.

The sun is at the perfect angle to give Kizmet a stunning glow in our tiki.

Calvin feeding my cats some treats. Do they like him? Yes!

Not only am I blessed to be a grandmother, but I’m also blessed that my grandson, Calvin, lives nearby, so I’m able to have him visit our house on a regular basis. The first thing people typically say to me regarding his visits, is “I hope he likes cats, and how do they get along with him?” They say this, of course, because I have seven cats, most of which make themselves quite known when he visits. Thankfully, I can say not only does he like them; they like him, too, largely because of how both my grandson and my cats have been brought up. Read more

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 as 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.

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