Suzy Says

It seemed like Duchess had been gone forever, but I decided not to visit her while she was in exile, because I didn’t want her to associate me with the horror of being stuck inside at a stranger’s house, with seven kittens demanding constant attention. Instead, I would sweep in and be Hero Girl, taking her away from all that!

Finally, it was time for her to come home. I was excited to pick her up. I brought an arrangement of flowers for Shelley, who had cared for Duchess and her brood for so long, and had a chance to admire the beautiful kittens:

They were happy and healthy, and their Halloween colors made them extra appealing this time of year. Shelley thought there would no problem getting them adopted.

Duchess was glad to get home, though Dodge was less than thrilled to see her, which surprised me. They were such good friends before, and I thought he would be happy she was home. Maybe it was the smell of the strange house, or the post-baby hormones. Whatever it was, he gave her a wide berth.

Another surprising change was that she had no interest in going outside, whereas before, she would freak out if I tried to keep her in overnight. Maybe two months of being inside where it’s safe and warm and there is food and water and comfortable places to sleep made her realize that being inside isn’t so bad. There’s no fervor like the converted.

She wasted no time in rolling around on her back in her patented way:

You can see a little flash of her spayed pink belly. No more babies for Her Grace!

FIVE YEARS AGO:  Some culinary experiences, some more successful than others.

TEN YEARS AGO:  A great evening at the theater with the girls.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO:  Remembering my grandparents and their long and happy marriages.

The Duchess of Navarro Ridge

I didn’t know which prospect was scarier: her giving birth outside, or in my house. I contacted a local cat rescue, and they said they would get back to me, but it took a while. As I waited, I got more worried.

I finally heard back from the Executive Director of the rescue, and she said that she herself would look after the Mystery Cat, who I had started to call Duchess. All I had to do was catch Her Pregnant Grace and bring her to the Village.

I managed this by putting a little dish of food in the cat carrier and then slamming the prison door as soon as she went inside to eat it. I expected her to complain the whole way, but she was completely silent. I, on the other hand, talked to her the whole way, just as I did with Clyde on our final drive.

Arriving at the foster home, foster mom Shelley was just coming out of her house. She was charmed with how beautiful Duchess is. She said that the vet was on vacation for a week and she would take Duchess in once the vet was back.

The appointment was slated for July 24, but Shelley couldn’t get Duchess into the carrier. She was finally able to catch her the following day, and while Duchess was waiting to see the doctor, she gave birth to seven – yes, seven! – kittens, five black ones (I knew it!) and two orange. Shelley is sure this is not Duchess’ first rodeo, but it will be her last.

My house is not equipped for taking care of kittens, especially while the other cats go in and out. So Shelley, who loves kittens, agreed to keep Duchess and her brood until they are weaned. Then Duchess will be spayed and come home to me. I won’t get her back until October, which seems like a long way away. I’m also not sure how to handle this with my landlord. Is it better to ask for permission or forgiveness?

All I know is, I can’t turn my back on a living creature who came to me starving and in need of help. She needs me. Dodge loves her. They used to spend time together and he would bathe her head. I know he misses Clyde. And the timing of her arrival and the fact that I had never seen a stray cat at my house the whole time I’ve lived here makes me wonder…

A YEAR AGO: I seem to be immature on the outside as well as the inside.

FIVE YEARS AGO: I went to the movies! I think that is the last time I went.

TEN YEARS AGO: It was good to be home. Side note: pictures of Clyde still stab me in the heart. I don’t think I will ever stop missing my beloved boy.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Remembering how I first became a coffee addict.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Farewell to the Hamptons! Unfortunately, the photos have been lost in the mists of time.

Faithful readers (or even the casual ones) will not be surprised to learn that my attempt at growing a moss rose plant from scratch – I mean, seeds – was an epic failure. I asked Megan to see if she could grown some in the greenhouse for me to transplant, but instead, she brought me this plant:

It’s supposed to be deer and rabbit resistant, and this has proved to be the case so far. I think the sign looks perfect in the Clyde-shaped planter. The green is very close to the color of his beautiful eyes. It makes me feel a little better to have his plant close by and know that he is always remembered and always loved.

The Mystery Cat is still hanging around, and is still hungry. I feed her twice a day now. I am pretty sure she is a girl, since I caught her in flagrante with another cat and shooed her suitor away, hoping it was not too late. Like every other parent, I also hoped that they didn’t resume their activities as soon as my back was turned.

Here she is, lounging on the back porch where the Clyde Memorial Plant is:

Rolling around on her back remains her signature move, like Dodge’s hopping, and it is adorable.

I am able to pet her a little when I feed her, though petting makes her wince a bit and she seems to be unfamiliar with the concept. She definitely prefers wet food to kibble. I am now able to close the door when I let her in the house in the morning to feed her, though she does eventually get nervous and want to go out again. I have started to call her Duchess.

A YEAR AGO: The unlucky 13th.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Unboxing the ancient grandfather clock.

TEN YEARS AGO: A busy Sunday.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Things were less than exciting.

When I arrived at the family estate for dinner, Megan poured us a glass of wine and then took me on a tour of the garden. It reminded me of how Dad and I used to tour his garden before dinner, glass of wine in hand.

First, I stopped by to visit my beloved Clyde. He is resting peacefully under the chinquapin tree. There are still boards and cement blocks over him to keep the marauders out, but I think it will be safe to move those soon. I put his little yellow marker up, and it will be good to plant cheery yellow daffodils there this fall.

I miss him so much. Every day. I talked to him and told him how much he is missed and how much we love him, including Dodge. I just want to hold my Clyde once more and bury my face in his satiny black fur. I guess you always want more time.

Back in the garden, things are off to a great start:

Peppers are growing in the pepper houses:

Strawberries are flourishing in their (hopefully) raccoon-proof beds:

As soon as I saw this tool, I knew it was something Rob had made. Why not have something that is useful and also a work of art?

This year, my siblings are trying thornless blackberries for the first time:

I didn’t even know that was a thing.

The raspberries are already buzzing with bees:

And tomatoes and hot peppers are growing in the greenhouse:

Spring is such a beautiful time of year!

A YEAR AGO: The loss of a long-time friend.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A flood complicated my moving preparations.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The horrors of an SEC audit. I hope you never experience this.

I finally found a planter I liked for the Clyde Memorial Plant. It’s even shaped like he was:

The marker with his name on it is made of fused glass. I liked it so much that I ordered another one the same day I received the first one:

I thought it would look nice with the daffodils on his resting place. If you’d like to buy one for your garden – they have lots of different designs, all weather-resistant fused glass, you can buy it here.

I check on Clyde whenever I go over to the property, and he is safe and peaceful under the chinquapin tree. I still miss him more than I can say. I have dreamed about him several times since I lost him. Every time, I wake up wishing he were here.

Megan bought some moss rose seeds, and gave me some for the Clyde planter. I am dubious about my ability to grow anything from seed, but I have planted them and am hoping they will sprout and bloom. My Plan B is to get some lavender from the family estate and plant that instead. So stay tuned on my gardening adventures.

The Mystery Cat is still hanging around. She visits most days, and remains hungry. I feed her twice a day. I am beginning to think she really is a stray. If she had a home, she wouldn’t be so hungry.

I still don’t know if Mystery Cat is a boy or a girl, but I’m saying “she” for convenience here. The he/she thing is tiresome.

I borrowed a Hav-A-Hart trap from my siblings, but couldn’t figure it out, and it seemed so narrow. I couldn’t believe that the fluffy cat would want to squeeze in there after weeks of eating on my (relatively) spacious side porch.

Here she is with Dodge on the side porch:

She does wander in and out of the sliding glass doors if I leave them open, and I have seen her hanging out on both the side and back porches. I figure the least I can do is feed a cat in need. I don’t know what will happen in the long run. In the meantime, she brightens my day, and Dodge’s, too.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Learning about female lighthouse keepers. At a lighthouse!

TEN YEARS AGO: My cats drove their babysitter crazy.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Thinking about moving. Or not. Spoiler alert: I would escape Oaktown for good less than six months later.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: A sunny Sunday in San Francisco.

So…

This little guy or girl (while I am excellent at detecting the actual sex of humans, despite their outward appearance, I am notoriously bad at determining the sex of cats, where I am consistently incorrect) just appeared one day recently.

In all the years I have lived in Hooterville, I have never had a stray cat show up at my house. It seems odd that about six weeks after losing Clyde, a cat turned up.

He or she is fluffy and pretty:

and a little shy, though s/he has an endearing habit of rolling around on his/her back, which also suggests a certain lack of fear. Dodge seems to welcome the newcomer. I have seen them sniff each other and touch noses, and Dodge will sit quite near the Mystery Cat:

Dodge clearly misses Clyde, and I think he would welcome a companion. He seems to like the interloper. But I’m not sure I want to take on another cat. It seems too soon after losing Clyde, and I just assumed that Dodge would be my last cat. I don’t want my cats to outlive me. Also, I’m sure my landlord does not want me to adopt this cat. Or any cat, for that matter.

You will not be surprised to learn that I have started to feed the visitor, who is very hungry. I am hoping be able to catch him/her and go to the Humane Society, where I can learn if he or she is microchipped or listed as missing. I have put out notices on the local listserv and Facebook with no response.

So we’ll see what happens. In the meantime, I will keep Mystery Cat supplied with food and water and hope that he or she can stay safe out there.

A YEAR AGO: A mid-week celebration.

FIVE YEARS AGO: An unexpected funeral.

TEN YEARS AGO: The horror of bureaucracy.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The horrors of house hunting. And traffic.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: The horrors of maintenance. They never end!

This week marked the third anniversary of the day we lost Star, the Horrible Event of 2021 (to be followed by the Horrible Event of 2022, losing Her Majesty the Queen, and the Horrible Event of 2023, losing Melanie, and I think we all know what the Horrible Event of 2024 was/is). I still miss her, and Megan and Rob’s place has never been the same without her, just as my place is not the same without Clyde.

In addition to their losses changing their homes (and Staff) forever, Star and Clyde had a lot in common.

• Total mama’s boy/girl. Followed us around as much as possible, and cuddled up to us on the couch or in bed.
• Suspicious of strangers and unlikely to hang around to find out how right or wrong they were. In Star’s case, she had zero tolerance for anyone who was drugged or drunk or had a ZZ Top beard, all quite reasonable prejudices.
• Black and shiny fur which stayed beautiful to the end.
• Mystery cancer.
• Died suddenly, but peacefully, at home.
• Died aged 13.
• We thought we’d have more time together. Even a few more days.

A YEAR AGO: A scary drive home. I have become afraid of the expression “atmospheric river”.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The horror of the time change and an unpleasant week.

TEN YEARS AGO: Oh, Clyde! I would do anything to enjoy your naughtiness once again.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Enjoying a mini noir-fest.

It’s been a month since Clyde’s sudden death, and I can’t say I feel any better. Dodge is still sad and going back to that spot in the office, which I can see from my bed. Sometimes it’s a stab in the heart, sometimes it’s a comfort. I don’t think I’ll ever see that room without thinking of Clyde.

Sometimes, I think I see him out of the corner of my eye, even though I know perfectly well that he’s gone forever. Forever is a really long time.

Most days, I start crying on the Ridge when driving home from work, knowing that Dodge and Clyde will not be running out to meet me, the way they used to and the way they should and the way they never will again.

Dodge hasn’t been running out to see me, either, though he is very happy to see me and get his treats. He is more interested in food, treats, and petting than he was before. Maybe he is trying to enjoy every happy thing as much as he can? He also sleeps with me more than used to, often in the place Clyde used to, right next to my legs.

I am lucky that I have co-workers who understand the immensity and intensity of my loss, bringing me cards and flowers, hugs and kind words.

Megan is going to plant daffodils on Clyde’s resting place. They will bloom every year around the time we lost him. She’s also thinking of a plant I can put in a shiny black container with his name on it. I will put the container on the back deck, where he used to love to sit in the sun and watch the birds. It will be nice to honor him and feel like Clyde is still with us in a way.

A YEAR AGO: A delightful hotel stay.

FIVE YEARS AGO: How housework leads to more housework.

TEN YEARS AGO: The power was out.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Technical difficulties.

Dodge and Clyde, late December 2023

Two weeks after the loss of Clyde, I am still struggling to come to terms with it. Most days, I weep my way down the Ridge on my way home, knowing that he will not come running out to meet me along with Dodge, the way they used to. The whole house feels different without his sweet presence. I kind of didn’t realize that he was the heart of our home until he was gone.

I also didn’t realize how much Dodge needed Clyde. It was obvious that Dodge’s sunny, loving, fearless presence helped sensitive Clyde to recover from his brother’s death in the woods, and made him feel much safer and happier. Clyde bloomed with Dodge in his life, but Dodge also relied on Clyde’s love and companionship. As soon as I brought Dodge home, he took one look at Clyde and decided he would be his friend, and it didn’t take long to make that happen. Clyde spent the rest of his life playing, cuddling, napping, and hanging out with Dodge, and for that, I am grateful.

Dodge is clearly having a hard time without Clyde. He keeps going back to the spot where Clyde died, sniffing it, and then sitting there. Sometimes he wanders around in there meowing. He definitely needs more attention, and he’s not going to get it from Audrey. Audrey is splendidly unmoved by Clyde’s loss. Her thoughts probably run along the lines of, “Thought he’d never leave! What took him so long?” Her routines are unchanged. She is still the grumpy empress of Suzytown.

A YEAR AGO: Winter’s chill.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Our heroine was under the weather.

TEN YEARS AGO: Some signs of spring.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Attracting the neighborhood cats

TWENTY YEARS AGO: I was invited to the first (and so far, last) bar mitzvah of my life. It was a deeply moving and beautiful experience. The kid in question is now a human rights lawyer who just bought a house with his long-time girlfriend, who is also an attorney.

Clyde is gone.

My beloved, adorable, beautiful, sweet boy.

On the last weekend in January, I noticed that he wasn’t feeling well. He wasn’t eating, and he was sitting on the floor in the office outside the bedroom instead of cuddling with me, looking like an uncomfortable loaf of bread.

I made an appointment for him to see the vet on Wednesday, and Megan and I braved the storms to bring him in. Tests revealed that my sweet Clyde had a mass on his liver and/or spleen. They gave him some antibiotics, in the last ditch hope that it might be an infection, and put time-release painkiller on his neck that would last 48 hours in case he was in pain. We made an appointment for Friday to see how he was doing.

On Thursday morning, I was putting on my coat when I realized that I had forgotten to brush my hair. I went back upstairs, brushed my hair, and took the opportunity to pet Clyde one last time. He pushed his head into my hand and purred, and I dared to hope he might be getting better.

When I came home, I found Clyde dead in the office. He was lying on his side, front paws crossed, tail neatly curved. There were no bodily fluids and no sign of distress. I think he died peacefully in his sleep.

It was too late to bury him then, so I had one last night with my sweet boy. The next day, we had a break in the storms, and the sun shone as I carried my beloved Clyde to the car. All the way to the family estate, I had one hand on the wheel and one on Clyde, and I talked to him.

Arriving at the property, I spent some time with him in the sun. His fur was still plush and beautiful, and he still looked beautiful and not at all old. He still smelled like Clyde. Finally, we wrapped him up carefully and carried him to the chinquapin tree. I kissed him one last time and told him how much I love him. Then we laid him to rest.

I hope he is with his brother Roscoe now.

John said that the fact that Clyde died out in the open meant he felt safe and was not scared or in pain. He was in familiar surroundings, with the sights and smells of his home around him. It does seem that it was quick and painless for him. But it is painful for those of us left behind.

Dodge misses his beloved friend. He keeps going to the spot where Clyde died, sniffing it and then sitting there. He is sleeping with me more often and definitely needs more petting.

Audrey, of course, is magnificently unconcerned and exactly the same. I saw both Audrey and Dodge sniffing Clyde, so they know what happened, and I think that is good for them, too.

I miss Clyde more than I can say. His sweet, loving presence was the heart of our home. I miss him running out to see me when I come home from work, his joy at spending time with me on the weekends and in the evenings. He was always a mama’s boy.

I love you, baby boy. Always and forever.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Thinking about the past.

TEN YEARS AGO: Shopping with Stella. We both enjoy jewelry stores, book stores, and bars.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Rob’s spinal surgery was successful.

Speaking of cats…

There appears to be a new kid in town.

I was on a Zoom meeting when I heard the ominous sound of a cat fight brewing. It is a sound which, once heard, is never forgotten. I excused myself from the meeting and ran over to the sliding glass doors in the kitchen.

I was relieved to see that my cats were inside looking out, and I closed the door immediately. At first glance, I thought the interloper was my landlord Danielle’s cat, Kiki. Closer inspection showed that the intruder was lacking Kiki’s characteristic extra toes and was white and tabby, rather than white and grey. This was a relief, because I live in fear of my cats getting into a territorial dispute with Kiki, thus angering her staff and possibly causing my cats and myself to become unhoused. It’s a little scary, being at the mercy of someone who is not particularly merciful.

I went back to the meeting, simultaneously relieved and disturbed. Glad it wasn’t Kiki, but worried that this cat, like the evil white cat who battled with Dodge, would fight with and possibly harm my much-loved kitties. Also, the new cat and Kiki are really cute, and I don’t like shooing them away, even though I have to, for the good of all concerned.

New Cat showed up a couple of other times. Once, he knocked on the front door’s glass a few times, visibly disappointed that I didn’t let him in. The next time, his owner came looking for him. I’m not sure how he traced him to my place, but he said that New Cat had been left behind when someone moved and he fell in love with New Cat and kept him. New Cat’s name is Peppy, or possibly Pepe, despite not looking like a skunk or having any Le Pew that I could discern.

The owner said that Peppy was not neutered, and he was having a hard time finding someone with an open appointment to do that deed. I had heard that non neutered cats will travel miles looking for a date, and so it was in this case, though the date pickings are pretty slim on our property, with all resident cats being neutered and Audrey being permanently grumpy. Hopefully Peppy can get neutered soon and stay closer to home.

A YEAR AGO: Cider time!

FIVE YEARS AGO: Delightful explorations.

TEN YEARS AGO: A virtual walk with Megan and our beloved Star.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Apparently this is cat fight season.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: All about boredom.

Here are some updates from Feline World. Or Planet Cat. You know, the place where the cats are in charge and I am merely the help. It’s not just me; this seems to be pretty common for anyone who is lucky enough to share their lives with cats.

Audrey turned Sour Sixteen this year. No sweetness for the Empress, though she often curls up next to me as I drift off to sleep at night. She mills around before settling into the correct spot beside my pillow, and then I put my arm around her and we go to sleep. I hope her dreams are less weird than mine.

She remains healthy and sassy. Her mama, who died a couple of years ago, was deaf and blind for some time before her demise, though she was a mere 9 months older than her kittens. Audrey has long been the only survivor of her litter.

She is definitely looking elderly these days, though. Her fur is less sleek, she might be even slimmer than in her youth, and she is more careful about jumping on and off of furniture, but other than that, the Empress is still in charge of her realm. Here she is, supervising my morning make-up:

The boys are still happy little companions:

Clyde is 13 and sleeps a fair bit, though he also enjoys playing with Dodge and being outside. He makes sure I know if there is a tragic bare spot in his dish:

and he always sleeps with me at night. He loves it when I’m home and is by my side more often than not on the weekend.

As for Dodge, he continues to be wonderful. Loving, happy, beautiful, grooving on life, doing everything 100%, whether it’s sleeping:

or playing, or purring. He has a new routine which delights me. He sits beside me purring while I drink my coffee in the morning before work. It started a few weeks ago. He was milling around and vocalizing while I was getting coffee ready, and I thought he wanted to go out, which is not allowed when it’s dark outside. But when I sat down to drink it, he jumped up next to me and asked to be petted. So I petted him and he purred. This happened for a few days in a row, and now he just expects it, and so do I. I really look forward to it, and I think he does, too.

A YEAR AGO: A delicious and delightful visit to the South Coast.

TEN YEARS AGO: Having a fabulous time in Hollywood.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Catfight!

Birthday Girl

Some people turn sweet sixteen, but not the Imperious Empress Audrey. Is there such a thing as sour sixteen?

Audrey has definitely not mellowed with age or time. She is as grumpy as ever. She is an equal opportunity despiser, and spends a lot of her waking time atop Mount Crumpet, hating the Whos. Some of this is justified, because the boys both tend to take swipes at Audrey and try to evict her from the coveted spots next to me or on my lap. Sometimes I think they are jerks to her just because they can, especially Clyde, who has put up with Audrey’s grumpitude his entire life.

She is in full possession of her faculties, as far as I can tell. Her sight and hearing do not seem to be diminished. She is definitely getting that skinny old cat look, though, and her fur is not as elegant as it used to be. She does sleep a lot, but beauty sleep is essential, especially the more vintage a girl gets. Sometimes she ventures outside, but she doesn’t go far these days. She has definitely become less adventurous with time, and again, you could say the same thing about me.

Audrey has long outlived all six of her littermates and her mother Quince, who was a mere nine months old when Audrey was born, and who died a year ago, shortly before Audrey’s birthday. Quince is still much missed, especially by her guardian, my dear friend Pea.

I hope that Audrey still has some good years ahead of her and that we can share some sweet moments together, along with the sour.

A YEAR AGO: Audrey’s birthday, among other catty celebrations.

FIVE YEARS AGO: My DNA results did not reveal any answers to my family mysteries.

TEN YEARS AGO: Everyone was under the weather.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Waiting for the heat to pass and a miracle to arrive.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: My very first baseball game loomed. Spoiler alert: I loved it!

Scout

I’m sorry to tell you all that little Scout, Jonathan’s beloved mini-cat, vanished into the same woods she emerged from, in late 2012. Somehow, it makes sense that her departure should be as sudden and unexpected as her arrival, but it doesn’t make us any less sad at losing her.

She was a constant presence, despite her innate skittishness. She remained semi-feral, very difficult to pet outside of the one safe space in the entire universe: Jonathan’s bed. There you could enjoy petting her silky soft fur and hear her enormous purr. She slept right next to Jonathan every night he was home, and he misses her so much.

She would observe barbecues and parties from a distance, sometimes allowing a pet or two, but that was a rare gift. Not long before she left us, she had started to make very welcome cameo appearances at Megan’s house, even venturing inside despite the presence of Stella and Millie. Somehow, that makes it harder that she is gone for good. Maybe she was finally feeling safer after her 11 years with us, and she might have spent more time with us. We’ll never know.

Despite her diminutive size (she remained the size of a 8 or 9 month old kitten), she had a huge personality, and her loss is deeply felt.

A YEAR AGO: A new (to me) computer. Not without snags, of course. Suzy and technology do not mix. At least, not well. Or easily.

TEN YEARS AGO: How to make an orchard.

My long-serving friend Richard K in San Francisco (not to be confused with my friend Richard S, who lives here in the boonies when he’s not out trotting the globe) recently acquired a kitten! So I get to enjoy her kitteny cuteness from a distance. Here is Richard and his new best friend:

Richard is a big hockey fan, both playing it and watching it, and he asked me for some hockey-related names for his new kitten. I came up with what I thought were two great ideas:

1. Lemieux (or Lemew – get it?), in honor of the great Canadian hockey player Mario Lemieux. Lemieux is also French for “the best”, which this kitten clearly is.

2. Rocket, for the legendary hockey player Maurice “Rocket” Richard. The kitten is known for rocketing around Richard’s apartment like Richard used to skate around the rink.

Bonus: both of these legends were born in Montreal, as was Richard.

Clever, non?

Richard seemed to find these ideas less brilliant than I did, since he settled on Harriet, which to me is not an obviously hockey-related name. But he says that the nickname for Harriet is Hattie and that’s close to hat trick, so there you have it. A kitten by any name is still as cute.

A YEAR AGO: A delightful day.

TEN YEARS AGO: The beautiful fine woodworking show.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Traveling to Florida.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Recovering from the groping incident.

I was surprised and confused by an unfamiliar sound when I woke up on a Sunday morning. It was rain! And it was real rain, winter-style rain, just a few months early.

Clyde and Dodge were sitting together on the bed, like a matched set, when I woke up that day:

They scampered downstairs, eager to go out and play, until they saw the rain:

I tried to take some pictures of the rain, but it proved to be surprisingly difficult, like my attempts to capture the beauty of the moon. Maybe I need a real camera instead of an aging iPhone 7. This was the best I could do:

Thought it may be hard to tell from the photos, we got almost three inches of rain! That’s a good start to the season.

A YEAR AGO: Some home improvements.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Playing tour guide.

TEN YEARS AGO: Thankful for the little things in life.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A delightful visit to Detroit.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Nearly finished with going through Dad’s things and getting ready to go back home to San Francisco.

The Winner

I was watching the last ever episode of “Better Call Saul” when my neighbor Alex appeared at my front door. Alex lives next door to me and is my landlord Danielle’s son. He came bearing the unwelcome news that Dodge had been in a fight. Alex had broken up the fight between Dodge and an evil white cat who has also gotten into a fight with Danielle’s cat, Kiki, she of the many toes and cute markings. Danielle’s boyfriend Will thinks the situation should be solved with a shotgun, whereas Alex is more of a trap and neuter kind of guy.

He showed me where the fight took place, right in front of his place, and showed me the white fur on the ground. I looked at it, and it looked like it must be Evil Cat’s fur, but I was longing to find Dodge and make sure none of it was his. Of course, he was nowhere to be seen. Alex opined that Dodge was probably under the house, and he was probably right, but that didn’t stop me from worrying.

I went out and called him a couple of times as darkness drew nearer and I considered the Awful Idea of leaving Dodge outside when I went to bed. I went out to call him one last time, and although I didn’t see him, as I closed the front door, I saw his beautiful little face peeking through the glass.

Dodge was clearly nervous and somewhat freaked out, but he did not have a scratch on him. He scarfed up wet food and treats and settled in on the heater. A careful examination showed no wounds or even a scratch, but the next day, I noticed a white patch on his ear that hadn’t been there before. I wonder if it was from the stress? I am just thankful he is OK, and rather proud of him for being such a tough boy from the mean streets of Fort Bragg.

TEN YEARS AGO: Car problems suck. But having good friends to help you with them is great.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Some Rita updates. Oh, and a fire.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Pros and cons of shaving.

Birthday Girl

The Imperious Empress Audrey turned 15 on July 2. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long since she was a little kitten. I am happy to say that she remains healthy, sassy, and grumpy. She has not mellowed with age, resolutely remaining her pre-reformation Grinchy self, a trait she shared with her beautiful mother, Quince.

I use the past tense because Quince died this month, staying true to herself to the end and choosing her own exit. I hope her journey was peaceful and I am glad that Quince lives on in Audrey. My heart aches for my dear friend Pea, now all alone in her little Victorian cottage in the big city.

July is a catty month. My lovely niece Cat turned 40 (!) on the same day Audrey turned 15, and July 9 marked the 40th anniversary of my beloved Buddy’s birth. It was love at first sight for me when he was born, and it was a privilege to be there for his first breath and his last.

Cat celebrated her birthday with a lovely trip to Sydney and other wonderful locations in Australia, where she has now lived for many years with her guy Dave, who is Australian. She is happy there and is currently fostering a cat called Calvin. A Cat should always have a cat, even temporarily.

A YEAR AGO: Having a wonderful time at the circus.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A completely fabulous sleepover with the completely fabulous Jessica.

TEN YEARS AGO: Getting ready to travel to Detroit to testify in front of a Grand Jury.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Musing about mechanics and my Mustang.

Much as I enjoyed visiting the past in San Francisco, I was glad to get back to the present in Hooterville.

It’s interesting that I love living in the country so much. When I lived in San Francisco, I loved it. I loved living in Pacific Heights, I loved the beauty and diversity of the City, its characteristic sights and sounds. But a lot has changed since those halcyon days, and the City I knew and loved is mostly gone. Even if money were no object – and it’s more like a massive, immovable one – I can’t imagine moving back there. I am much happier in my little wooden water tower, surrounded by towering redwoods, with the only sounds the wind in the trees and the birds singing. OK, and the occasional meow.

It was good to get back home. This is the view from the back porch:

And from the front door:

Clyde and Dodge still hang out on the heater in the living room in the evenings and early mornings before they head out to play for the day:

I love how they are such close companions.

Before I go to work in the morning, I always take one last look before I leave. These days, one of my small pleasures is the light-up Chrysler Building that was one of my birthday presents. I have it on in the evening and leave it on so I can enjoy its glow when I get up in the morning:

I love it out of all proportion to what it is, for some reason.

I guess it’s true what they say: There’s no place like home.

FIVE YEARS AGO: When worlds collide.

TEN YEARS AGO: The birth of a garden.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A midnight dog rescue.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Candi and Brian came to visit!

Hooterville Morning

I took this at the Hooterville post office this morning. I generally go to the post office on my way to work, long before it actually opens. For some reason, going to the post office after work feels like going out of my way. I retrieved my package from the parcel locker, and when I got back to the car, I was delighted by the dawn breaking over the Hooterville hills. That dot in the sky is a guest appearance by my friend the moon.

You can’t tell from this dawnscape, but it’s been really windy lately. I’m still wearing my coat and having the heat on in the car in the morning. Yesterday evening, the wind blew a tree down in a strategic spot and took out the power in the Big Town and environs, all the way to the Village. Fortunately (she said selfishly), my power stayed on, and it was restored to the temporarily powerless by 7:30 pm, so it was only out for about three hours. This morning, the Ridge was covered with fallen twigs and leaves, which looked odd on the dry road.

A guy tried to pick me up at the gas station this morning, while I was in the midst of spending $61 on gas for Wednesday. My lipstick must be even more fabulous than I thought. He was a really nice guy named Lucio. As my 60th birthday approaches, I have to wonder if it’s the last time this will happen. It sent me on my way to work with a smile.

Little Dodge has hurt his front right paw. He was fine when I left for work yesterday morning, but he was not putting weight on it when I came home that evening. He is still eating and drinking normally, and he is also jumping on and off the bed, table, and the heater where he likes to lounge:

He likes the warmth of the pilot light, pretty much year-round.

I checked the problem paw, and couldn’t see any wounds or foreign objects. I wonder if he sprained it jumping off furniture or playing with Clyde. I hope he recovers soon, and that I can avoid another gigantic vet bill. Fingers (and paws) crossed!

A YEAR AGO: The joys of spring.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A fabulous evening with family and friends.

TEN YEARS AGO: A really fun weekend.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: A rainy start to the day.