Ditching the 4th and Other Summertime Reflections

Posted on September 18, 2025 by Pamela Knudsen

“First of the fall
And then she goes back
Bye, bye, bye, bye there
Them summer days
Those summer days”

Lyrics from “Hot Fun in the Summertime” by Sly Stone
Sung by Sly and the Family Stone

Clouds rolled in at sunset creating a moody mid-September sky, giving us a sneak-peak of autumn. I watched Mother Nature’s magic from the bedroom through the French doors that I just closed. Samantha and I were in for the night; well, almost. The French door to the catio was wide open, showcasing my newly refurbished garden. Samantha sashayed out to the catio where I had spent most of the day sweeping, de-leafing, hosing, re-potting plants and organizing their arrangements on the side of the house that wraps around to the entry, dubbed the “catio.” Its ivy-accented lattice and wood slat fence enclosure makes for a safe and cozy outdoor space for Samantha Jo. I poured a glass of wine then sat on the pavers next to my girl. She rolled on her back inviting me to play “tickle-tickle” as we awaited John’s (Papa John to Samantha) arrival from his band’s gig at a local party. Samantha’s eye injury finally healed, with only a hint of scar tissue remaining. I love seeing her sassy and happy again.

With fall in the air, summer already feels like a distant memory. One memory I’m sure Samantha has blocked is our 4^th of July catastrophe. Since Samantha came into my life in April 2021, 4^th of July holidays have been fraught with anxiety. With one firework show two blocks from the cottage and another one mile down the road, no amount of gabapentin or calming spray has been able to quell Samantha’s fear response to the bombastic noise, nor the raucous sounds from inebriated tourists parked up and down the street exiting the neighborhood. I couldn’t allow her suffer through another 4th. John and I had a brilliant idea: we booked a room at a pet-friendly hotel away from firework shows. We would have a peaceful evening of sipping wine, playing Yahtzee, and listening to music—not the sound of simulated bombs, and Samantha would be batting around her favorite mousey toys and lounging on the bed. Or not…

As we entered the suite, the smells of urine and something chemical assaulted our senses. Apparently a pet had peed and the smell could not be eradicated. The hallway outside our room was as busy as Pacific Coast Highway on a summer day with guests coming and going, slamming doors and loudly conversing. Our plan to order room service dinner delivery was nixed when we learned the hotel restaurant was closed. And the “lovely” patio suite was on the periphery of an emergency vehicle road and the patio was a small slab of concrete.

John went to a near-by grocery store to grab sandwiches for dinner and he picked up a lavender aromatic spray to snuff out the putrid smells. I eagerly took off the wrapper, put my finger to the spray pump, and instead of lavender scented spray wafting into the air, it dribbled down my arm. A broken nozzle? Seriously? At this point, we burst out in hysteric laughter. Although, Samantha didn’t see the humor. She anxiously paced the room while sniffing the carpet, periodically stopping to growl at the door. She managed to unwind after the people-traffic died down, but was still on high alert every time someone walked by the room. Samantha couldn’t fully relax, and neither could we, so we packed our bags and got the hell outta there, arriving back at the cottage after the crowds were gone and the fireworks were over. Samantha hopped onto the bed and settled in for the night as though the Hotel Hell incident never happened.

We hope you all had a great summer!

Enjoy the pictorial of some summertime highlights.

We spent many nights at the Sawdust Festival… I could almost live in this playhouse built by Habitat for Humanity, which was up for auction.

We enjoyed music–Samantha and I listening to records…John singing and strumming folk rock classics at a private party…

An off-the-hook Shawn Jones Big Band concert at Bluebird Park…

Cat-themed picks for my radio show with DJ John Ford on KXFM 104.7. Tune in to the AM Radio show (Americana music and more), Sundays from 3:00 to 5:00 104.7 on your dial if you’re in the Laguna Beach area or listen live at kxfmradio.org. DJ PK (that’s me) co-hosts every second Sunday.

Reading compelling essays in The Sun

Cat lady in a cave! We attended a block party in a neighborhood that has its very own cave, and spent more time in the cave than groovin’ with the party guests.

Green Eyes and Chicken Soup

Posted on June 28, 2025 by Pamela Knudsen

“Green-eyed lady, windswept lady
Moves the night, the waves, the sand
Green-eyed lady, lovely lady
Child of nature, friend of man”

Lyrics from “Green-Eyed Lady” by Jerry Corbetta, J.C. Phillips
and David Riordan, sung by Sugarloaf

Samantha’s left eye is back to being a lovely shade of celadon. The gloppy grey and blood-streaked scar tissue covering most of her eye formed after a simple corneal ulcer, resistant to antibiotic eye drop treatments, became infected. The bacteria melted thirty percent of her cornea, which I learned at her first visit to Eye Care Specialists for Animals. My heartbeat quickened when the vet cringed while examining Samantha’s eye. The diagnosis was grave, but the injury was curable with an aggressive treatment plan of two antibiotic eye drops, a healing serum, and one antiviral eye drop four to six times a day for four days, an oral antibiotic twice a day and gabapentin (painkiller) once or twice a day.

Scan reveals ulcer, the green patch, which is where the scar tissue formed.

I told the vet six times a day would be impossible. I work. It takes two people; my guy works. My nerves were already frazzled from a two-month roller coaster of giving eye drops, trips to the vet, her eye slowly healing then regressing. Over a weekend in late April, I found Samantha curled up in the closet and her eye crimson and swollen. She could barely open it. I rushed her to the vet. A different antibiotic and anti-inflammatory/pain killer was prescribed. These did nothing. I got her into the eye care vet later that week.

John and I attempted the first round of eye drops and could only get three of the four into her eye. After each drop we had to wait five minutes before giving the next. The stinging of the drops added to her misery and she let us know with cries and wriggling. I broke down. Through tears I tried to work with thoughts of Samantha facing surgery if I couldn’t administer the treatments. The pressure of needing to be vet tech extraordinaire and witnessing Samantha’s agony was devastating. Then I had an epiphany: Ya gotta know when to fold. That Friday afternoon, I boarded her at Laguna Hills Animal Hospital so their staff could administer the treatments. I learned that I couldn’t do it all, and being a good cat mama means knowing my limitations.

A little loopy on gabapentin.

Samantha adapted to the cone, which she gracefully wore for a month. I took it off for short spells so she could groom.

Samantha has had three follow-up visits, and with each visit, showed progress in healing. At her exam three weeks ago, the eye scan revealed that she was almost fully healed. The rigorous treatment plan was reduced to what John and I can handle; one drop and ointment twice a day. And I learned that the scar tissue would dissolve, but could take several months. Yet, it’s already a shadow of what it was back then. I’m hopeful that Samantha’s July 3^rd check up will be the last.

Samantha’s most recent vet visit–she’s clearly feeling better!

Juxtaposed to this trauma was the excitement of seeing my story, “Samantha” in Chicken Soup for the Soul: What I Learned from My Cat, released on May 20^th, which can be purchased in bookstores and online. Since the ‘90s, I’ve had several of the books in this award-wining series. Turning to Page 224 of the latest edition about the feline-human bond and seeing the story of how Samantha and I came to be is beyond belief.

And what better way to help heal a weary soul than with a little chicken soup?

And Along Came Samantha

Posted on April 4, 2025 by Pamela Knudsen

In the winter of 2021, I was grappling with the loss of Bobcat. He’d been one of my feline companions for about seven years. After his best pal, Lexington passed away in December of 2019, Bobcat and I formed a deeper bond. Without Lex, I could focus all my attention on Bobcat and he lapped it up, becoming more affectionate and playful. We became so in tuned with each other, it was no surprise that Bobcat knew I had cancer before I did. The weaker I became, the stronger he doted on me. I couldn’t lie on the sofa without him settling in on my lap with his face inches from mine. I would hold him and he would “kiss” my forehead and stare into my eyes, as if trying to heal me. He became my nursemaid from pre-cancer diagnosis, during treatments up until two weeks before cancer surgery, when he experienced renal failure after a battle with diabetes, and passed.

I was a cat lady with no cats for the first time in thirty-three years. It was an adjustment that I could not get accustomed to. After a couple months of grieving, I’d had enough.

* * *

Samantha Jo (fka Annie) was under weight, had badly matted fur and three bladder stones when she was relinquished to the Laguna Beach Animal Shelter. When I met her she was recovering from bladder stone removal surgery. We locked eyes as I stepped into the small room in the shelter in which she was staying. She hopped down from the top of the cabinet she was perched upon and sashayed over to me. I sat down on a towel that was on the floor. She sat next to me then put her paw on the top of my hand and let out a soft “mew.” When I laid eyes on her, I knew we were a perfect pair, and this validated she felt the same way.

My adoption application was approved that day, but Samantha was still recovering and couldn’t be released for a couple weeks, and I had my final chemo treatment to endure and recover from. The adoption would have to be put off. In the meantime, the shelter let me visit.

On April 2, 2021, Samantha came home with me. Although we had a connection, she was guarded for the first year, keeping her distance as we got to know each other. I would often catch her staring at me from across the room, a penetrating stare as though she was sizing me up wondering if I would keep her, or if she’d end up back at the shelter. And if I tried to pick her up, she instantly wriggled out of my arms.

Today, Samantha Jo is my constant companion. I can’t be in the kitchen without her overseeing my every move, from pouring a glass of wine to making tea. She seeks me out to play tag, keeps me company as I work, and once in a while when I pick her up, she melts into my chest, and lets me hold her.

News Flash: I wrote a short story prequel to this adoption story, which is being published in a beloved book series of over 275 titles that has sold more than 110 million copies across the U.S. and Canada, and in 2008 became the best-selling trade paperback series of all time.