Reo, life as the little sister in my own words

Biscotti doesn’t have to stand on his tiptoes
to see outside because he’s so tall.
We’re a couple of cool cats
Proof that even though my crazy kitten energy gets on his nerves, Biscotti does love me.

My name is Reo and my mom helped me with this blog post, she’s best kitten mom ever.

Meet Reo

On Saturday I adopted a kitten named Reo from Feral Kitty Trappers. Biscotti and I had been struggling with the loss of our sweet Tipper and when I came across her profile on petfinder.com I knew I had to meet her. Just five months old, she’s a little love bug and a welcome addition to our family. While she and Biscotti are a bit wary of each other, I know in time they’ll be inseparable.

Nose-prints on my window

A feral colony of three sibling kittens born in my garden this summer, have decided to stay on for the winter.

The black kitty I named Coal. From a very young age he’s been the most gregarious. The kitchen window looks out on my garden (not pretty in winter). When I walk in the kitchen, Coal jumps from his napping spot on my jacuzzi onto the window ledge. He is captivated by me, regardless of what I’m doing. Anytime I’m cooking is his favorite time to visit.

Recently he’s taken to high-fiving me through the glass then walking back and forth rubbing against the window. He’s now “trained me” to pet him through the glass. This goes on until I’m tired. Not once a day but rather each time he sees me – including after dark when he’s visible only by his topaz eyes.

As a result, my kitchen window is dotted with nose-prints from Coal and fingerprints from me. It’s messy but I love the connection we have and look forward to seeing him each day.

Messy window vs visits from Coal. Coal wins. Windows can be easily cleaned.
On my deck when he was very tiny
Coal and his siblings, Toffefay and Stormy

 

Self Care, part four

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Pets provide companionship and entertainment but also unconditional love.  They sense when you need them to be close.

During those first months after losing Spence I chose to be alone while working through my pain. My cats, Tipper and Biscotti (aka “The Biscuit”) were a godsend.  Already the most lovable cats, they snuggled with me for hours every day.  They didn’t expect much beyond food, water and a clean litter box. Caring for them was self care and therapeutic for me; they too had lost Spence. Hospice had set up a bed for him in that last week and Tipper and Biscotti provided him comfort in those final days. Sensing the gravity and sadness, they calmly slept next to him for hours on end and were there when he drew his last breath.

Self care can take many forms; sharing our loss helped me to connect to the nurturing part of myself. It was small but it was a purpose.

Days and weeks went by when one day I caught myself singing and dancing to some song while making a snack. Food, music and dancing in my kitchen had been such a natural thing for me in the past. I don’t recall the song (but I remember the sun was shining brightly that day) and it struck me how long it had been yet how natural it felt. As time moved forward, those moments became more frequent and less noteworthy.  The cats and I still had our snuggle time every day but they also returned to their cat tree, their “Cirque du Soleil” antics and play time.

It does get better….