Saying a prayer that each and every one of you is surrounded today by those you love most!
—Phoebe June, Smuffy and The Storyteller
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Cat Lovers
It’s National Cat Day!
If it hadn’t been for Martha Stewart, it would have slipped right past us.
I happened to see Martha on social media this morning posing with her felines. I knew I couldn’t let myself be outdone by Martha. What she had to offer in numbers (not to mention fluff), we completely make up for by the fact that we have the one and only Phoebe June.
Since today is a rare and glorious autumn day, we celebrated National Cat Day with a trip to the cemetery just down the street. This old cemetery, designed by an architect long ago, offers a great place to get away for a peaceful stroll.
Phoebe enjoyed the autumn splendor as much as I did.
The perfect afternoon held one spot of rare excitement for both of us. As we strolled down one of the long avenues between the towering cypress trees, we heard a loud pop and turned to see what caused the noise. There on the paved lane in front of us lay a squirrel, flat on his back, motionless. I surveyed my surroundings to make certain that someone with a BB gun hadn’t shot the squirrel and might perhaps take another shot and hit Phoebe June or me. (Small town in the Midwest – that sort of thing happens here.)
We crept toward Mr. Squirrel with caution and with Phoebe’s tail bushed out and the fur along her spine doing its imitation of a razor-backed hog. As we approached, the squirrel stretched his back legs out as far has he could as though he’d forgotten his morning exercises. He gave them a few jerks as if to see if they’d been stretched to their absolute limits and relaxed again, ignoring the stick under his back. I knelt before him, trying to get my camera in place. It isn’t every day you get to hold your lens ten inches from a squirrel’s nose, which I now noticed was just a bit bloody.
Phoebe June sat two or three feet from the marvel, trying to decide if it was a gift from above or something that warranted caution. Like me, she’d never seen a squirrel with a concussion before.
After a slow roll, the squirrel sat up and studied us, weaving back and forth as though his eyes lacked focus and his head throbbed. I took aim, but before I could press the camera shutter, he staggered toward me, slipped under my left thigh and tottered off through the gravestones. Phoebe June flew after him like the mighty huntress she knows she is, but I reigned her in, reluctant to put the poor little fellow through any more trauma. Also, they bite.
Having danced out onto the tip of a fragile branch of one of the tallest trees in the cemetery, it had snapped, the squirrel had plunged to the pavement below and had been knocked senseless. After all that and wakening to find himself up close and personal with a human and a cat, this squirrel had had enough for one day.
I got no photo, but Phoebe had just about all the excitement she could stand for National Cat Day. That is, until somebody came walking through with their dog. Body language says it all. She disapproved.
Happy National Cat Day! Hug your kitty! Hand out a couple of extra treats. Have a cozy sit filled with chin scratches and neck massages.
Phoebe June recommends that you get into the spirit of National Cat Day and adopt a kitty if you don’t have one, because, as we all know, they are therapeutic. Food, litter, catnip toys and a few vet visits can run into money, but they are much cheaper than a psychiatrist!
Questions? Phoebe June is on hand to answer. Caution: She can be brutally honest. She’s excited to read your comments but her replies may reveal just a touch of high-mindedness.
You can review Phoebe June’s First Year by clicking here and be sure to check out my list of “Top Ten Things You’ll Reconsider Once You’ve Become a Kitten Mom”.
Phoebe June’s Big Day!
On October 10, 2017, a kindle of kittens arrived, filling the mud room of the country home with tiny mews, squeaks and squirms. We didn’t have a clue.
Not until almost two months later did Smuffy hand me a gift bag for our anniversary. It contained, mysteriously, a can of kitten food. Since we had no cat and hadn’t had one for a decade, I stared at Smuffy, speechless.
“You don’t want a cat,” I finally managed to utter after he asked me if I intended to say anything.
“But you do,” he smiled. “And life is short, and I’m ready, and you need to get a kitty. That is, if you want one.”
I lapsed into another stunned silence for a bit and then a conversation started that lasted for the rest of the day. Here we are enjoying our anniversary dinner and still talking about it.
My main concern was that Smuffy might not be ready to become a kitty-daddy – heart and soul, that is. The last thing I wanted was to end up in a situation where he put up with a cat around the house for my sake while secretly hating every minute of it.
Once he assured me that he’d been thinking about it for months and was fully ready to commit, I got downright giddy at the thought. Since December isn’t really the season around here for “please, please, pleeeeeease take one of these kittens off my hands”, my word of mouth efforts yielded no leads.
I made a bold move and tried social media, hoping that I wouldn’t be swamped with 150 offers to wade through as I tried to make a decision.
Oddly, just one prospect appeared who had two kittens ready for a home. They both happened to be females, which I wanted, and the photos were adorable. On December 7th, a mere five days after Smuffy lost his marbles and made the offer, we adopted Phoebe June and it’s been nothing but fun, games and squirt-bottle discipline around here ever since.
And Smuffy, you ask? His heart melted and within the first week she’d become his little “Junebug”. When it comes to kitty discipline, he dreads nothing more than having to be the bad guy. Let’s just call him Mr. Marshamallow.
As for myself, I didn’t know how much I needed Phoebe June until I got her. We romp and play as though she’s four weeks old and I’m four years old. Well, I haven’t dressed her up in doll clothes or anything, but I’ve come pretty close. I determined to keep her from being fearful of every little thing by harness “training” (and I use that word loosely because, she is, after all, a cat) her and taking her everywhere. Now, she’s a social butterfly and is not neurotic, but everybody thinks I am!
We’re celebrating around here today with a couple of extra toys from the dollar store, some “big girl” food and a trip to the vet to weigh in. You might think the latter would be enough to ruin a birthday for most cats, but Phoebe takes the kitty doctor in stride, along with her trips to see Amy Egglady, window shopping or popping in to see friends.
Happy 1st Birthday, Phoebe June! You’ve come a long way from the little powder puff nestled in the palm of my hand.
Cat years are calculated differently than dog years. It proceeds faster at first and then slows down to a ratio of Human: 1 = Cat: 3. Right now, Phoebe is supposed to be the equivalent of a twelve-year-old. We might just be moving into more exciting times. Hmmm…
I keep this Shakespearean quote above Phoebe’s playhouse –
As you can see, it suited her from the start. Born to leap, Phoebe June flies through the air with the greatest of ease all without the need for a trapeze. Add to that the fact that she is emotionally clingy, loudmouthed and opinionated and you’ll have but a mere hint as to how our “empty nest” household has changed.
In fact, Phoebe June talks non-stop! It should have been no surprise to discover that she’s been keeping a diary. I’ll be sharing some of her thoughts and experiences with you whenever I can manage to sneak a peek without getting caught.
I’d love to hear from you, so leave a comment!
Coming up Next: I’m finally getting around to those hearty fall recipes I promised. You’ll get FREE PRINTABLES, too!