Never Gone

National Pet Memorial Day is observed on the second Sunday in September.

Our Celestial Eastside Cats:

Chucky

Angel

Sweetie

Paddy O'Malley

Sammy

George

Hobo

🪽 Gone, yet forever in our hearts. 🪽

❤️ 💔 ❤️

Wild Child

 Yesterday was National Feral Cat Day, shining a spotlight on the needs of community cats and their carers.

But what about humans are a little bit...er, um...wild?

The Hubby agrees that I am untamed!

Below is my first feral/stray/community cat, found in the parking lot at my workplace.

Named George after the security guard who informed me about the cat's presence around the building.

Friends and co-workers put out food for George on the weekends and when I was away, and we humanely trapped him after many months of trying...hey, we were novices!

Donations covered the vet bill for neutering and shots, then George was delivered to his foster home, where he became a member of the family.

Will always be thankful for P&M, my co-workers who pitched in, for the family who adopted him, and for that security guard who put my feet on an outside-cat-loving path!

Maybe the feral in me calls to the feral in them?

Let's Hop! 

Straw Between the Ears

Straw Hat Day falls on 15 May, a day dedicated to celebrating straw hats' versatility and timeless appeal.

Chili Bruce...in MY chair*...rocking a straw hat

Celestial George, from 2008, posing with my straw hat and wildflowers.

*See yesterday's post "Chair Thieves"

😹😹😹

It's Been A Decade

We started this cat blog on 22 September, 2013.

I enjoy it, because cats are highly entertaining, and love to read other blogs too.

Thank you all for your support!

Please enjoy this slideshow of some of the earliest photos of our cat ❤️❤️❤️ at Eastside Cats.

❤️❤️❤️

Love Week Day 5: My Outside Boys

I love Celestial George, Hobo, Sammy, and Paddy O'Malley, and am thankful for their presence in our lives.

George, 2008
Discovered in my office parking lot; I spent time before work, at lunch, and after work with George.
On the weekends, nearby friends fed him, and these are dear friends we still have today.
We finally figured out how to trap him; he was neutered and placed with a loving family.
George was named for the building security guard who'd brought his existence to our attention.

Hobo, 2009-2015
Hobo appeared in our yard not long after George was adopted.
Hobo never allowed us within a few feet, even when he once was covered in burrs.
Hobo escorted Sweetie to our food bowls, when she was heavily pregnant, but neither of her kittens looked like him.
Hobo would walk up and down the alley, and we later learned that he had other homes who fed him.
Sammy's appearance didn't bother Hobo, but when Paddy O'Malley arrived, Hobo stayed away from our yard to live at one or two of his other homes, with whom I kept in touch.
He just disappeared in the end; still makes me very sad.

Sammy, 2010-2014
Sammy always looked a bit disheveled.
He once wouldn't put weight on one of his front legs, and we trapped him to get him to the vet; an abscess, caused by a bite.
Later, Sammy's mouth seemed bad, and he was losing teeth.
Once again, to the vet for a dental, but the vet said he was too sick and infected for the procedure, so he was the first kitty I'd helped over The Rainbow Bridge.
Sammy was named 'New Guy', but when The Hubby went to pick him up from the low-cost spay/neuter clinic, he forgot 'Guy', and dredged up the name of his grandfather instead.

💗Paddy O'Malley, 2011-2021💗
Once Paddy discovered food, water, and shelter in our yard, he never left.
At first a bit shy, he became a love-bug, and was the only cat (so far) to NOT run away after being released from the carrier after being neutered.
The PO'M often had injuries; huge tufts of fur missing, or he'd scratch himself raw.
We trapped him several times, to get him to the vet, and the vet staff never quite believed that he was a community cat as he was the perfect gentleman while in their care.
I tried to coax him inside year after year, but he'd only step in just so far, before bolting back out.
In summer, 2021, I simply grabbed him from the porch during a rainstorm, et voila, he was inside.
I was over the moon happy, until he crashed and was too sick to go on.
The Hubby claims that he thought up Paddy's name, but he's mistaken.
I had traveled to Ireland in college, and Paddy's fur was the color of a poured pint o' Guinness, with eyes like Connemara marble.

Rest in Peace, my lovely, much-loved outside boys.
😽😿😽😿😽
Let's Hop!

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August 28: Rainbow Bridge Remembrance Day

"Rainbow Bridge Remembrance Day was founded in 2015 by Deborah Barnes, award-winning author, and blogger of Zee & Zoey’s Cat Chronicles in tribute to her Ragdoll cat, Mr. Jazz, whom she had to say goodbye to on August 28, 2013. She shared the journey of letting him go in her critically acclaimed book, “Purr Prints of – A Cat’s Tale of Life, Death, and Beyond” and decided to create the day in his honor as a way for others across the world to share memories of their own pets they had loved and lost."

💕💔💕

August 29 is the Gotchaversary for Celestial Angel and Chuck, so let's celebrate our Rainbow Bridge kitties!

Angel

Chuck

Hobo

Sammy

George

Jigsaw Puzzle

108George, The Office Feral

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Rainbow Bridge Remembrance Day: August 28

Click here to visit The Chronicles of Zee & Zoey

Deborah Barnes: "I founded Rainbow Bridge Remembrance Day (RBRD) in 2015 as a special day for pet guardians to honor the memory of those beloved pets in their life they have loved and lost, but never forgotten – whether fur, fin, feathers, scales or something else. It’s held every year on August 28, in honor of the day I had to say goodbye to my precious Ragdoll cat, Mr. Jazz"

💔😿💔😿💔

Our furry loves, who've run off the The Rainbow Bridge:

Chucky

Sammy

George

Hobo

Forever in our hearts

💔😿💔😿💔

Rainbow Bridge Remembrance Day, August 28, 2017

We've all lost furbabies, either our own or one that was like your best friend, even if it was a neighbor's cat or your grandparent's old dog.

The Chronicles of Zee and Zoey began RBRD in honor of their beloved kitty, who left this Earth three years ago.  Although a somewhat sad day, we also remember the joy, laughter, and love of our furangels.

This has been exceptionally hard for me, since our Chucky is beginning to fail.  I don't want to leave the house, for fear of losing even a few minutes of time with him.  We hope to have many more months with him, but it won't be years. Knowing what is on our horizon, makes RBRD difficult in reverse.

And yet, I must remember a few cats that really made a difference in my life:

Angel Sammy

Angel Sammy was a friendly feral, who I helped over The Rainbow Bridge when it was apparent that he was very sick.  Took me months to stop looking out the window for him.  Rest In Peace, Sammy.

Angel William

William, from William of Mass Destruction, was very important to me. His stories made me think I could write online too!  I miss this kitty, and his brother Russell, who left us much too soon.

Angel Russell

There are many other friend's kitties who've passed, that make me sad; too many to list here.  Each blogger has mentioned their own angel furbabies.  

😿😿😿

I'll add Angel Goose to my remembrance post; he was a wee kitten but was very sick.  His human parents moved away after he was helped to The Rainbow Bridge, but they still mourn his little soul.

Angel Goose

Angel George

And George, my very first feral/community cat, who I found at my previous office in 2008.  When I finally trapped him, and delivered him to his furrever home, I felt hollowed out and sad.  No more sharing tuna sandwiches with George on my lunch hour, or visiting with him while nearby deer roamed the woods.  George's family became fast friends of mine, so they let me know when he was helped to The Rainbow Bridge to end his suffering.  I learned so much from my 'George' experiences; he's really the one who set me on my path of recording my life with cats.  Rest In Peace, Angel George.

Sending hugs and purrs to all of you on Rainbow Bridge

Remembrance Day 2017.   

Here it comes...

Frozen

Sweetie napping in the garden

Patty and Me; he's smiling...and so am I

It's getting to be that time of year, when my anxiety about Patty O'Malley and Sweetie starts to ratchet higher as the temperatures fall.  Their water bowl was frozen a couple of days ago.

In a perfect world, I would throw open the door, and invite them inside.  They could stay as long as they liked, and if they never want to go back out again, I would be happy to let them live with me forever.

However, the reality is that I already have two cats inside, and a stay-at-home hubby.  I am the one who comes and goes to the office, and spends less time in the house.  When we adopted Angel and Chuck over ten years ago,  they were inside-only and we humans foolishly considered our cat quota as met.  The first ferals (the late, great George and Hobo) were really skittish, and did not want human contact.  As the years rolled by, Sweetie, then Sammy, and lastly Patty came along.  They all used to run away from us, so we trapped 'em and fixed 'em, and figured a box with straw and some food would serve.

Yet Patty began to allow me to gently pet him, then hug him, and now we smooch and snuggle.  When Sweetie and Sammy saw what he was doing, they too joined in and I petted them and we became FRIENDS.  They run down the driveway when my car pulls up, and they meow and dance for me!  But the set up was for wild, unsocial cats!  My first priority must be Angel and Chuck, and yet these wonderful 'o' cats are only a hairs-breadth lower on the scale.  I think that I grieve for them, as each passing day gets colder, and I feel like I'm the bad guy.

Of course, they made it through last year's brutal winter; even Sammy who was probably rather sick the whole time lived through it.  So why do I worry so?  Hmm, if I could figure that out, then I wouldn't be writing about my pangs of terror when the winds blow, or how I wrap myself in multiple coats, boots, hats and scarves just to give them a fresh bucket of water.  I scrape ice, I sweep debris, and I shovel lots of snow to make paths so the cats can get through the drifts.  I add L-lysine and Vitamin C to their wet food, and in the really, really cold I heat up the bowls AND food, so they aren't living on kibble only.

And yet, it's not enough.  But do I pine and struggle for them, or for me?  They have everything they need; I do not.  I do not have them jump on my bed, or sing the song of their people at 3 a.m.  We don't LIVE together.  Such a conundrum, and it's beginning again.  Do they have crazy-lady-with-cats happy pills?  I think they do...

P.S. Today, the hubby and I finished insulating the Cat Hotel, and I filled both floors with straw.  The lower floor also has the warming pad.  Last thing to do is to put up a wind break on the second floor entrance.  Patty sat on the deck and watched us, while Sweetie lounged in the yard.  My fear is that they will abandon the Hotel any time we do something to it.  The overnight lows are staying above freezing for a few days longer, so if they need a day or two to courageously go back inside it, the temps aren't too bad.  Do you see how I am?

Farewell, George

In 2008, when the security guards told me that someone had dumped a cat in the office parking lot, I searched for two days before I found him...and fed him my tuna sandwich. Every day before work, on my lunch break, and before I drove away for the day, I'd sit with George at the edge of the parking lot, on the walking path in the field.  It took many months, and several different humane traps, to finally transport George to the veterinarian, and to his forever home.  A whole group of co-workers and very friendly neighbors (P & M, you know who you are!) donated food, money, and/or their time to making sure George was cared for.  Sadly, George's family discovered that he was very sick, and last week, they showed their love for him by helping him discard his damaged body.  He had six good years with them, especially R with whom he was closely bonded.  

I cried when P and I delivered George to his new family, and I cried when I heard the news that he was gone.  We never knew if he was a stray or someones pet, but he had love and family, and I am so grateful for that.

George was named for the security guard who kept insisting that I name the cat, instead of saying 'the cat'.  I did not WANT to name him, because I foolishly believed I could stay unemotional that way.  HAH!  Finally, George the security guard demanded a name, so I said "He's George Junior, after you!"  Also, George the cat was polydactyl, at least on his front paws.  The top two photos were taken when George first arrived in the parking lot; the next two were when George and I romped together, and the last one was sent by his humans after he'd settled in.

Farewell, George

Purrs to R and the family