The couple who adopted her have been keeping in contact with me. Here she is in her new home. I am sure she is in a bit of whirl right now wondering what happened to her country life. But, I hope in a week or two, we will just be a distant memory in her heart.

Kody has mellowed so much now. She is a completely different dog. She seems so much happier to have us to herself and isn’t trying to bowl us over all the time. I had to laugh though. She jumped out of the truck at Coast. I tried to pick her up and could only get her a few inches off the ground! She is solid muscle. I waited for her to relax then commanded her to get into the truck and she did.

Yesterday, Mike and I drove to Washington. There, we met a really nice couple. He is a retired policeman and she is a stay at home gal who works with the police rescue squad. They lost their German shepherd, Spice over four years ago. We were letting them take a look at Lei and we also wanted to see where Lei might be spending the rest of her days.

What we saw impressed us. Their other dogs were friendly and sociable. They had one cat (a Ragdoll) who was beautiful and a show kitty. They wanted a shepherd to start training for Search and Rescue. Lei fit that bill.

We reached an agreement and left Lei up there in her new home. There, she has no chance to run the legs off of horses (since they don’t have any). She will be an inside/outside dog and when we left although she tried to sneak out the door twice to be with us, I knew she was in a much better place.

I thought Kody would whine and pace and carry on. But she only gave Lei one last look as we drove off (Lei was watching from the window) bout broke my heart, then Kody settled down and slept most of the way home.

The trip took 6 hours. We couldn’t really afford to go, but as I told Mike, we also really couldn’t afford not to.

I have a good feeling about her being there, although I am sad that we had to make this decision. I can’t afford for Racer to founder again, and he has been so stressed lately when she chases him and Trav.

I’ll miss you Lei, and i hope to hear someday in the future that you found a lost child, or an adult who wandered off into the woods. Be well my canine buddy and be loved-

Meet Truman. Arrived last night, a dump job no less. Named after “Give em Hell Harry” President Truman’s nickname.

Woke up this morning to the horses in the orchard. The fence was shorting out, so while Mike mowed, I chopped down all the berries that were growing at the fence line. It took me over two hours to cut down the blackberries. I love the berries, but the bushes are so tenacious and they grow everywhere.

Lei has started chasing the horses, and as a result Racer is gimpy now. Nothing we do can stop Lei from her games, so sadly, we are looking at rehoming her to a place where there is no livestock. I can’t have Racer getting hosed up and lame. I won’t go there, not again.

This morning at 5:47 a.m. I woke to find Cole laying on my shoulder, Oliver tucked in close to my hip and Chandler nuzzling my chin. I slid off the bed and my feet bumped Matuse who was curled up near my slippers. As I reached down to take possession of what used to be mine, Matuse reminded me of his authority in the home and swiped at me with his claws extended.

I retrieved my slippers, put my left foot inside and it met with a barrier. Not wanting to wake up Mike, and thanking my stars the barrier wasn’t wet and gooey, I flipped the slipper upside down. A ping pong ball escaped its jail and went rolling across the floor. Everest darted out from underneath the bed to chase the ball and the sound of a ping pong ball on ceramic tile was to tempting. Soon Chandler, Sullivan and Cole were in hot pursuit.

Grabbing my robe, I had to liberate it first from the evil clutches of Mercedes, I headed for the kitchen to put on coffee. I was followed by a wake of kitties, who knew that if mom was heading for the kitchen, it would soon be meal time! As I measured and filled the pot, I heard a gentle bap-bap-bapping sound. I looked around and Riley had his paw up the opening of the pet fountain, trying to pry the lid off. His signal that the oasis on the dining room table had dried up in the night and it was time to put more water in the well. Coffee would have to wait.

The fountain cleaned, scrubbed and refilled began to bubble its magic and Riley could now drink his fill. Into the bathroom now to wash my face and brush my hair “helped” by the polydactyl Prowler who believes that anything near my face requires her expert grooming skills. After chasing the water down the drain, Prowler decided I passed her morning muster. Going back into the kitchen, I get a good morning swipe of paws from Rocky in his accustomed place at the top of the cat condo.

Stopping to say hello and rub his wonderfully furry belly, I am hard pressed to ignore his sister Taylor who resides in the cat house one level below. My coffee attack is starting to scream in my head, but who can ignore this feline opportunity. Both kitties get good hard rubs, which they love.

Finally! I am in the kitchen and ready to start the coffee. Chappy streaks past, slides to a halt and starts weaving in and out of my ankles in a mad dance of kittydom. He wants his butt scratched, and my coffee now ready, cannot be poured until Chappy gets his scratch.

Ahh the first sip of the breakfast brew- heaven and my senses start to wake up. Time to get dressed, so off to the bedroom where Guinevere waits eagerly for her morning routine. Her routine includes brushing her all over with a wire brush (which my other cats dearly hate!) But Guinnie with her broken body and thick, coarse hair loves this brush and she purrs and stretches, grabbing for the battered sides of the cardboard box that she has decided is her safe haven. Her claws find purchase along the sides and more cardboard shreds are added to the pile she made during the night. I have tried to replace this box so many times, but she will have nothing to do with with the newer boxes, preferring to stay within the box that has been repeatedly marked with her scent as she claws her way to brushing ectasy.

Now that her hair has been brushed, it is my turn! A few swipes with a hairbrush, jeans and sweatshirt and I am ready to go and feed the horses. As I make my way back to the kitchen for just one more cup of coffee, just one more cup…just one more…..a familiar and not very pleasant odor assaults my nose. Taylor has used the litter pan. The horses will have to wait, it is time to scoop and clean.

Seven litter pans later with return trips to three as the Alpha’s assert their authority and re-baptize the clean litter, I hear Mike stirring in the bedroom. Now that he is awake, I can let the two dogs out of their crate so they can run our four acres.

Upstairs I go to clean the pans up there and say hello to Babycakes and Twirl. I inspect both cats, Babycakes wounds are closing nicely, though Twirl with her cancer returning isn’t looking to hot this morning. Both kitties are medicated and their rooms straightened up. I turn on the fans, it is supposed to be another hot day today.

Dogs running the property investigating the scents of the critters of the night, I go back into the kitchen do my kitty call through the tunnel. Time to feed the cats. Cats come spilling from everywhere. I take the time to personally say hello and pet each one, and McKinley, back to his loving self, climbs up my leg as if to say “I deserve a hug, don’t I mom?” I pick him up and hug him tight. He wraps his huge paws around my neck and presses in. He is glad to be home. Down he goes to find his place at the buffet table.

My call has roused the barn cats as well. Even though I had every intention after Cleo died, to keep the four kitties in the porch forever, they had other plans. They all escaped, and as of yet, we can’t find out how they got out. I spilled food into the trays and Tipster, WK, Squirrel and Cyclone begin to eat.

The dogs are waiting at the door to be fed, the horses are nickering at the gate and all is well. My day has started and it is time to thank God for allowing me the interaction with these beautiful animals. They make my world complete.

This has been a surreal night to be sure. I feel like I either entered a really bad episode of the Twilight Zone, or I followed Alice down the rabbit hole.

The woman who adopted McKinley from me, she kept my cat carrier for a few days. I was fine with this, because it would allow McKinley to have something that he could be comfortable with and keep familar smells close. But, it was one of my more expensive, larger carriers, and I really needed it back.

As of tonight, the carrier still had not been returned, even though Susan had called the day before to say she was going to return it. So after dinner, I went to the house the woman had taken me to when I asked to see where McKinley would be living before I would let him go. I had the address and drove right to the house, knocked on the door, a girl answered that I did not recognize. I asked about my cat and if I could see him before I took the carrier home. She had no clue what I was talking about. I went back to the car to recheck the address, it was the same house, so back I went to inquire about McKinley. She told me I was sorry, I must have the wrong house! Nothing else left to do, so I left and did a sweep of the block because the houses did sort of look alike. I knew that it was the right house, so back i went.

This time, when I knocked at the door and asked again about my cat, she said that they didn’t have the cat, but her grandmother did. I thought this was odd. I mean why not mention that before? I told her I had followed Susan to the house with McKinley, checked out the house, made a few suggestions about what they needed to do to keep him safe. She had taken me to a back bedroom, said that this is where McKinley was staying, and we had sat in the living room until McKinley came out of his carrier before I said goodbye.

I asked this girl where her grandmother lived? She said “Up on the mountain, let me call her.” Turned away from me, made a cellphone call then told me “Grandmother isn’t home.” I asked for the address, she gave it to me. I had an odd feeling when I left. The address was up on the back of the mountain, so I stopped first at home and picked up Mike. I filled him in as we drove to the address given. Turned out the address was a cow pasture!. I was starting to panic, so we just drove down the road a bit until we came to an address that was similar to the one the girl wrote down. Pulled into the driveway, there was an older woman sitting in the carport. I went up and asked her about my cat. She told me that she didn’t have my cat. I was very confused, so I shared with her some personal information about the person who showed up at my house, and she still said it didn’t ring any bells. I turned around to leave and in the shed next to the carport, I saw the car that had come to my home. I told the woman I recognized the car and asked her what kind of sick game were they playing? She said it wasn’t her car, but her daughter’s car. I asked her where her daughter was, she said on the way to the coast. Great- then I asked if I could just come into the house and look for my cat. She told me no, my cat wasn’t here. I was a bit pissed off at the deceit already at hand, so I told her I was going to the cops, and I would be back to get my cat. I left my phone number with her, told her to call her daughter and tell her I wanted my cat back. Then I left.

I went to the cops (they laughed at me) it’s just a cat after all. So out of options and in tears, I came home. There was a message on my machine from someone who said, They “found” my cat. I called back immediately and said that I was on the way to get him back. I was told not to bother because the cat was on its way to me. Which was even stranger because the “woman” told me she didn’t know me, or know where I lived. I looked out the window, a car was screeching to a halt at the top of our drive, the door opened and my cat carrier appeared! I screamed and ran outside, and scooped up the carrier. Thankfully McKinley was inside. I brought him back in the house and he is upstairs. He is very shook up, smells like cigarettes and motor oil! God knows what he went through and I feel like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole. What kind of wierd game were these people playing, and what part did McKinley take part in?

At least he is home. I was in tears earlier thinking I had lost him forever. I still don’t have a clue what went on. I’m not sure I even want to know-
__________________

With the outdoor cats now inside, I am juggling cats and Mike is laughing at me. We have Dash up in the cat room until she acclimates, Twirl is in the computer room. Babycakes has the run of the hallway, the stairs and the downstairs landing. Guinevere is in the bedroom (her domain). Squirrel and Tipster are out in the porch, the rest of the kitties have the kitchen/dining room, living room and enclosure to run. The only place there isn’t a cat is in the bathroom, and when I go in there, they want in as well! I hope my ads prove out and some of these beautiful creatures can go into a loving home where they can be an ONLY cat!

It’s hard to sleep now, not because of the juggling cats, but because even with so many cats, I miss Cleo so much. With kitties running around my legs, cats on my lap and sharing my bed, my life feels so empty because I know that when the sun comes up and I go out to feed the horses, Cleo won’t be laying on his chair, or catching the mice in the barn.

I got up early this morning and went inside the enclosure. When I turned on the light, I heard a noise in the grass outside and for some dumb reason I thought it was Clee! It turned out to be a mama skunk and her little ones prowling for bugs and perhaps a bit of bird seed. I watched the cats inside the enclosure, crowd the fence and stare at the babies. Sullivan turned to look at me, and I know he was thinking “OK, well when are they going to be in here?” I had to laugh- not till donkeys fly. That’s all I need, skunks and cats to juggle!

Sharing a beautiful tribute made by a cyber-friend of mine. Cleo, I hope there are mice in the trees of heaven.

My friend Heidi still had this photo on her computer. Here is my beautiful boy, now climbing the trees to heaven.

Although I am so sad today and cannot shake off these tears, I am also jubilant because I have finally captured the elusive Ms. Dash! She is upstairs in the cat room, totally freaked out at being indoors. She is about 5 years old, and I will be working with her slowly so that I can acclimate her to my touch and if she needs some attention, I will be able to help her and not have to chase a terrified cat all over creation.

I need to shake off this despair I feel. I have so much work to do today, but my mind is just a black cloud. I will miss Cleo so much- he was a cat that quickly crawled into my heart and stayed.

In Dusty Rainbolt’s latest book, Ghost Cats, I share a story about a little calico feral kitty by the name of Calli (I know, original name) But Callie was a part of a litter that was born under my neighbor’s home (who detests cats). I talk about fetching out the mom Funny Face from under the porch, she was pregnant and fighting me, but I managed to get her safely upstairs. She delivered kittens the next day. We named the two pitch black ones, Bravo and Charley (having just seen Heartbreak Ridge the night before). Then there was Callie she was a manx-cross, there were mostly Manx-crosses in the bunch; Stryker a gray, white and black male. Cleo looking much like stryker but with more white and then there was Hissy, the spitting image of his mom.

Funny Face was a good mom, during that time, the road outside the house hadn’t been widened. This was still a rural area and life was busy but quiet. We kept all the kittens and they went inside and out at will. Active and loving, beautiful souls.

Funny Face left us one afternoon quite suddenly and though I searched high and low, pounded on doors and put up fliers, she remained missing. We finally gave her up to God and concentrated on her family. I would find out years later, that Funny went over a few roads and set up housekeeping with a lonely, elderly man. She had blessed our home, now it was time to continue her work elsewhere. That story is printed in Catnip the newsletter out of Tufts University.

Cleo was the last remaining kitten of the litter. He didn’t want to be indoors, and when having to be confined for illness or other reasons, he would squawl his raspy one-of-a-kind meow, shred wallpaper, eat the carpet, destroy the door. He wanted outside. He got his way. When I took him in to be neutered- they “thought” he was under. He woke up- and he destroyed the entire surgical room. I was called, the phone call was pretty nasty. I was told that he would be neutered the next day, but the vet would prefer never to see him again! He was a character, and yes, the vet did see him again, several times.

A few years ago, he showed up for his nightly meal and his eye was swollen and bloody. I rushed him to the reluctant vet (although Cleo did mellow with age) It was found he had a claw hole in the center of his eye. I was told that I needed to confine him for two weeks, for treatment and meds or he would lose his eye. Well, I did try, but five days later, I called the vet and asked him what would happen if I just let him out? He was so stressed that he had stopped eating. I was told, he would either lose his eye or die.

I went into the room and gathered Cleo into my lap. I told him the severity of the issue at hand and asked him to please show up regularly so I could treat his eye. Then I hugged him and let him outside. He did show up, every day for treatment which was a rarity because before he would just show up every so often. He had taken up residence under an old barn down the way, and seemed to like it over there. I believe that except for maranding tomcats, he was the only cat over there.

So he lived with us, and he didn’t lose his eye. He would be laying in the yard, and we would walk over and say “Cleo fall over!” And this beautiful boy would roll over on his belly and show us his whiteness and allow us the luxury of rubbing his belly without him wanting to go to war.

He defied the statistics that outside cats only live for four years. He survived the pet food recall fiasco, becoming so ill that for the first time in his life, he wanted to be inside the porch. He laid for days on his heated cat bed without moving much, and vets tested him and pondered over him and I prayed over him…and he survived.

This morning, my big beautiful feral boy died. He would have been fifteen years old soon. There was not a mark on him, though he died not peacefully because his mouth was open in a snarl. Whatever got him, got him pretty quickly.

The dogs had gone off about 4:00 a.m. They were in the bedroom sleeping and suddenly they both started howling, like wolves at the moon. Mike let them out and they went to the back gate and pawed it, they were whining. But mike wouldn’t let them out and they returned to their crates. They must have heard Cleo saying goodbye.