Writing into the Light…

Finding my way with words…


What the Catnip, Santa??



Georgia here:

I have been so bad, I have forced Mom to write a blog which she hasn’t done for a very long time!  She said the story is too long for FaceBook.  She’s going to let me tell it myself though.  Mom said it may be cathartic.  I don’t know what that means, but I’ll take her word for it!

I was having a hard time sleeping last night, Mom and the dogs weren’t ~ they were sacked out.  I just love the laundry basket.  Mom was really tired, before she went to bed she went to the basement, folded the last load of wash, carried the laundry basket upstairs to the bedroom but decided to wait until morning to put the clean clothes away.  Did I mention I just LOVE the laundry basket?

Well, I couldn’t control myself!  I jumped into the laundry basket, ran around in circles, rolled in her clean undies, unpaired the socks and jumped against the sides of the basket until I knocked it over.  Then, piece by piece, quiet as a mouse, I ran off with the laundry!

Let’s just say Mom was not pleased that she tripped over the laundry basket on her way to the bathroom this morning and realized what I had done.  Then she had to have a scavenger hunt to collect her laundry before she even had her coffee this morning!  She is not pleasant when things disrupt her routine ~ and this is a woman who was a middle school administrator who was forever moving her daily Steven Covey “To Do” list to the next day before 8:30 AM!  I will admit, I left some of the laundry downstairs and by the back door, under the dining room table, and under the bed.  This is aside from the fact it all has to be rewashed.  I guess I was a little out of control!

Yesterday was my birthday.  I was 9 months old!  Don’t you love that sweet baby-face?  The dogs, my sisters, Emma and Sara, pulled me aside while Mom was crawling under the bed and tables gathering her now re-dirty laundry to tell me that Christmas is coming soon and I better get my act together or I will get coal instead of catnip in my stocking!  You see there is this guy called Santa Paws who brings treats to good animals.  They are good sisters to explain things to me since I’m still a baby.  Emma is 5 and Sara is 9 so they know a lot.  Mom says Sara knows a little too much, she gets into trouble, Trouble with a capital T, Mom says!  These are my sisters…  Emma is on the left, Sara is on the right.Header

They suggested I hang up my Christmas stocking and be extra sweet for the next few weeks.  I have to control myself until December 26th since Santa Paws is watching and if I am not good, he will not leave me toys and treats for Christmas.  So, I took their suggestion and hung up my stocking.  As soon as Mom saw it she was so happy again.  Then things started to fall apart.


Mom decided it was time to take my Christmas picture.  She went upstairs and returned with these red and green frilly collars with sequins and bells on them.  Can you imagine!  I am a dignified member of the feline species, not a frou-frou cat.  I think not on these collars!

She slipped two, not one, TWO of them over my head.  She started to tell me how cute I looked, but before she got it out of her mouth, I shook my regal feline head and they flew in two different directions!  Whoo-Hoo!!  As Martin Luther King, Jr. so appropriately said, “Free at last, free at last.  Thank God Almighty I am free at last!”

I chased the frilly little garments around the living room, caught one, and treated it like an overdressed Christmas mouse from The Nutcracker.  This is what I think of Mom’s Christmas costume…

20151208_114224_resizedThis is an extravagant ball of decorated organza that needs to be destroyed, and I’m just the cat to do it!

Life did eventually calm down.  I was afraid coal wouldn’t be as much fun to roll in as catnip ~ and the girls said Santa Paws was watching.  So I will be a good kitty.  Sit on my perch.  Keep my teeth off of the Holiday Finery and watch my birds.  For now…..


Merry Christmas, Georgia


Sweet 16

Good Morning Peoples, especially those who love their felines!  Monhegan Mist here, aka Miss Misty.  This is the morning after…and I am a bit weary!    Yesterday was my birthday.  Mom had a Sweet 16 birthday dinner for me.  Before you start picturing wild cats running around and bouncing off the walls, I was only 16 in human years… in cat years I was 84!  The advantage I have over Mom is, I was born with grey hair so I can do a better job of hiding my age! Mom promised me I could be a guest blogger for my birthday, so here it goes…

I had a rather unusual beginning in my family.  My Mom had gone back to graduate school and was very busy.  She had a golden retriever named Maggie who was well taken care of by Mom’s friend, but was lonely.  Mom was thinking maybe a kitty would fit the bill.  Problem, Mom hated cats.  One Saturday Mom went to the pet store to get Maggie some food.  I was there with a group of cat rescuers who were trying to find forever homes for kitties.  Long story short, Mom saw me with my grey velvet fur and took me home.

When we got home we had a long talk.  She introduced me to Maggie and told me she realized God made me a cat, not a dog, and while she respected that she had always found cats a bit aloof and independent.  She said if I could be like a small grey golden retriever who used a litter box that life would be perfect!  I really wanted things to work out at my new “forever” home, but that was a lot to ask!  Mom sealed the deal by naming me after her favorite place on earth ~ Monhegan Island, Maine.  She said my fur was the color of the mist in the harbor in the early morning.  Add to that, I am a perfect lady who always lays with my legs gracefully crossed!

I took our little talk to heart.  Fact is, I wasn’t ready to be separated from my feline mother when I was and needed something with 4 legs to be my Mom.  That wound up being Maggie.  When your foster mother is a golden retriever it is almost impossible to be independent and aloof.  So, Mom got her wish and within 24 hours she loved me unconditionally and decided kitties were an individual decision and that she had been wrong to write off an entire breed.  I am a great cuddler!

Some of Mom’s other “quirks” I have an issue with.  She loves to dress up her animals for holiday pictures.  That behavior moves into territory I cannot abide!  I call it animal abuse!  I have to draw the line somewhere!!  I have beautiful green eyes that in pictures always look like some wild beast that belongs in a scarey movie.  She just doesn’t get it!  I HATE to have my picture taken!  I’m so much cuter in person.

One of my greatest challenges was when Mom brought home a golden retriever puppy two years after Maggie died.  Maggie was older when I came to live with her, I was not prepared for the challenges of a puppy.  Her name is Gracie.  I did a good job raising Gracie!  I was the mother this time!  People think we should be enemies because we are different species ~ why?  We aren’t enemies, we are sisters.  I wag my tail like a dog, and I taught Gracie to be the only dog who can cup her paws to scoop like a cat!  She is able to gather all of the edible treasures from the kitchen sink that Mom forgets to immediately send down the garbage disposal thanks to me!  And…did I mention that I do an awesome job of keeping my canine siblings clean and well groomed?

I’m sorry to interrupt Father’s Day to send my belated birthday message, but Mom was chasing me all day yesterday trying to get a Sweet 16 picture of me (the one at the top of the page).  By then, we were both too tired to write!

I am a very important member of the family.  I have been with Mom through a lot of life over 16 human years.  You too can have a special kitty in your life.  We can be independent or cuddly, your choice.  We can be entertaining.  We are playful.  We can keep the dog clean.  We can be your faithful companion.  We are low maintenance.

I would be remiss if I did not remind you that this is “Kitten Season.”  There are many kitties that do not have a forever home ~ young and old.  Please consider bringing a furry new friend into your home by adopting a rescue.  We are really special balls of fur… That’s my Sweet 16 message for you…

Love, Miss Misty (Monhegan Mist)

P.S. Special kitty hugs to my look alike blog friend… Teddy!


Wills vs the TSA

Hi!  My name is Willie or Wills.  Mom sometimes calls me Wills after Prince William.  She says I have a royal attitude!  I think that’s a good thing.   Although I am a rescue, I think I am mostly Norwegian Forest Cat.  That means that my ancestors were working cats on the ships that sailed from Norway to Maine… they were the mariner mousers!  Yesterday was my birthday.  I am 14 in cat years, or 73 years in equivalent human years.  I guess I better get the app ready for joining AARC.  As a special birthday present Mom said I could write a blog today to tell you a little about myself.

I moved to Maine three years ago in January.  My first Mom (my current Mom’s Mom) was sick and had to move to a place where she could get lots of care and couldn’t take me.  Mom flew down from Maine to visit Mom (this is getting confusing) in Maryland and it was decided that I had to give up my bachelor pad and move to Maine.  We gathered up my medical records and a few “happy pills,” an airline approved carrier and a plane ticket.  Mom was really mad because my ticket was only $1 less than hers and I didn’t even get my own seat!  How fair is that?  I didn’t even have luggage!!

We spent a few days practicing in the carrier.  Mom thought that serving me meals in a carrier, and throwing my cat nip toys in there would make me happily run into the carrier when it was time to go to the airport.  What a dumb bunny Mom is!  She doesn’t understand cats at all.  We get through life by making our owners feel secure that we will do exactly what they want, and then at the critical moment we surprise them by exerting our independence!  It took three people an hour and a half to get me into that carrier.  They were yelling things like “we’re going to miss our flight” and “Damn it Willie, get in there!” getting really rough toward the end.  Anyway, the best was yet to come…

Mom slid her hand in the zippered opening and dropped in a treat (which was really a pill pocket – I’m no dumb cat).  I was so exhausted from playing with them for ninety minutes that I ate it.  We left my old apartment and headed for the airport.  I think we were speeding to make up time, but I was getting as furry inside my head as I was on the outside of my head, so I didn’t care!  We arrived at BWI with enough time to get to the gate but Mom was hustling!  We checked in at the counter with our tickets.  When they asked for a photo ID Mom provided my vet records with a color picture of me so they knew I was me, and not a terrorist cat.  The grumpy lady at the counter just handed it back to Mom and said, “I don’t need this.”  As we walked away from the counter, Mom mumbled something about people in Baltimore not having a sense of humor.

We got to the area for TSA security at BWI.  Mom and I got in a line with grey bins that went through a machine.  Everybody took off their shoes… I think Pepé le Pew was on our flight… I was choking and gagging at the smell!  YUCK-E-E-E!!!  Mom wasn’t quite sure what to do with my carrier.  A TSA agent came over and said, “Ma’am, you’re going to have to take the cat out of the carrier.  We can’t x-ray the carrier with the cat in it.”  Mom was picturing three people trying to get me in the carrier for ninety minutes and said, “No.  I can’t take the cat out of the carrier.”  Mr. TSA called over a supervisor.  Now, scroll back to the top of the page… is that not the sweetest little face you’ve ever seen?  What harm could I do?  I’m a cat for Pete’s sake (who’s Pete?).  I put my paws up against the mesh on the front of the carrier, “See, bare paws, I took my shoes off… so what’s your problem??”

We were escorted to a little room off to the side.  We were left with two female TSA agents.  “Ex-cuse-e-e-e Me!  I’m a boy!!  I demand a male agent!!”  Mom took me out of the carrier since we were in a tiny room and I couldn’t get away, ferocious man eating feline that I am.  Everyone expected me to start hissing and growling and fighting to get away.  My happy pill had taken effect and I just collapsed like a rag doll over Mom’s shoulder.

One of the Ms. TSA agents took the carrier out to x-ray it to be sure I wasn’t hiding a bomb in my cat nip toy and blankie.  The other one asked Mom to hold me up and away from her body.  She waved a magic wand over me… up one side and down the other.  Then, wait till you hear this… then she put the wand down and started to pat me all over.  Can you believe this horrendous abuse of power?  This woman is just grabbing at my fur and touching my handsome male self without being invited!!  I wanted so bad to fight this injustice, but my happy pill just left me hanging there with my head bobbing up and down and my body limp.

Finally, they put me back in my carrier and we were on our way.  When we got to my new home in Maine I met Misty the cat and two giant furry things Mom called dogs.  I had never met one of them before.  Oh well, maybe I can write again and share some more stories… have a pur-r-r-fect day!