Christmas Eve Greetings

Posted on December 24, 2025 by Pamela Knudsen

Merry Christmas, everyone! I’m finally slowing down after a hustling and bustling past few months. I’ve got the rest of the week off from the corporate day job and look forward to visiting friends and family; but like an overstimulated feline who retreats to their safe place (box, cozy corner of the closet, or atop baskets under the console) I’ll also be retreating to the sofa with my latest good read in hand.

In 2026, I’m going to be sharing fascinating feline stories told to me by colleagues and friends over the past year. I’ve discovered cat lovers in cohorts who I’d no idea were into cats, and I’m amazed at the passion and love they have for their felines. Wait until you hear about the attorney from the California Department of Real Estate who went to great efforts to rescue abandon kitties in a Target parking lot, and the studio cat of local kiln glass artist.

Stay tuned, and in the meantime, I leave you with some Christmas cheer in the below poem I wrote a couple of years a go…

Catmas Eve at The Cottage

T’was the night before Christmas and the cottage was bustling
With kitty cat cries and Cat Lady hustling,
Baking cookies, brewing tea and happily dancing,
As her kitty joined in, by joyfully prancing.

The twinkle lights hung in the garden with care,
As Cat Lady looked on hoping Santa Paws would soon be there.
When startled by a clatter that filled the room,
She turned to see her floof flitting around, zoomy, zoom, zoom!

The kitchen cupboard was open, catnip spilled all around,
Cat Lady laughed at the scene, while kitty rolled on the ground.
The ginger floof frolicked in catnip with glee,
With her teacup now dry, Cat Lady announced, “It’s time for whiskey!”

Cat Lady sipped her nightcap as she gazed at the moon,
Wondering if the arrival of Santa Paws would happen sometime soon.
Suddenly in the dark, outside the French door,
A sound so startling, kitty flew across the hardwood floor.

Cat Lady and kitty peered out the window seeking to see,
What caused such noise, oh my—could it be?
Then what they heard caused no doubt in their minds,
“Meowy Catmas to all!” rang out a voice boisterous and kind,
Then he was off in a flash, flying high up above,
Leaving the best gift of all, the presence of love.

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.