Beach Cats and Sawdust Summers

Posted on September 7, 2019 by Pamela Knudsen

Labor Day has come and gone, tourists left town and kids are back in school. That’s it—summer is officially over despite what the calendar says. And despite living two blocks from the beach, this cat lady spent more time in Laguna Canyon (or just “the canyon” as locals call it) over these past couple months. When it comes to my favorite outdoor place to be, I used to think of myself as only a beach person. I spent many childhood summers hanging out at the beaches of Newport and Huntington. I eventually made the beach my home, landing an apartment on Lido Isle in Newport Beach. It was a charming little place built in 1941 and was part of a triplex situated on the small strand of beach facing the harbor.

This is where my crazy cat lady identity manifested, as I became known by the kids in the neighborhood as “the-lady-who-walks-her-cats”. On several occasions these kids watched with marked curiosity, my former feline compadres, Punkie and Frankie walk with me on the sidewalk running parallel to the shore, which lead to a boat dock. Frankie would follow me onto the dock where we would sit together and watch the boats go by. Punkie would either stroll back home, or take a seat in the sand and wait for us. These adventurous cats also accompanied me on the beach, sitting next to me while I read or took in the view. I was fondly called “crazy cat lady” by the couple next door; only the “crazy” part wasn’t about having too many cats. You just don’t see too many gals strolling along the shore with cats dutifully trailing behind them.

Cat Lady sans cats but you get the idea. This is where they would sit with me, and in the background is the walkway leading to the dock in the far upper right corner.

Early morning at the dock. If only I had a photo of me and Frankie on it.

But after I moved to a neighborhood bordering Laguna Coast Wilderness Park, a preservation area of Laguna Canyon, I found myself going for hikes more than walks along the shore. I was captivated by the canyon’s ancient rock formations, lush foliage and the scent of sage scrub and soon became enamored with my new earthy environment—and I’m still struck by its beauty.

View of the canyon from Nix Nature Center after attending a presentation on birds of prey, where I met a couple of owls and a redtail hawk.

I also find beauty in the canyon off the hiking trails. During the summer months I commune in the canyon while browsing through mini art galleries and listening to live music at an enchanted place called the Sawdust Festival. The Sawdust, or “The Dust” as they called it back in the day came to be in the late 1960s by a group of artists who rebelled against the traditional juried art show in town and created their own distinctive and funky haven to show and sell their artistic wares. The Sawdust’s rustic venue and flower child vibe that still lingers makes this place truly magical.

Cat Lady and artist Shamus

Woodstock Day at Sawdust, singer/songwriters Kurtis Gentile and Alisa Eisenberg revive popular tunes from 1969.

The Heretics bringing back favorite songs from the ’60s through ’90s

Blue grass melodies by The Salty Sweets

And the crowd goes wild on closing day of Sawdust.

I still love watching waves crash onto the shore and feel of sand under my feet, but to hike among sycamore trees and escape to a place where canyon walls harbor timeless creativity completely feeds my soul and keeps calling me back.

If only I could bring the cats.

Cat Lady in the Cottage – New Beginnings

Posted on September 3, 2018 by Pamela Knudsen

“Our house is a very, very, very fine house / With two cats in the yard…”

Lyrics from “Our House” by Graham Nash

The dark hardwood floor could barely be seen under all the boxes, which besides cluttering the floor space, scaled the French doors that opened to the back of the cottage. “Where was everything going to fit?” said an anxious voice inside my head as I surveyed the dollhouse of a house I was moving into. And I still had two last loads to fetch—Lexington and Bobcat. I hoped they would fit in here, in this new world away from the comforts of their spacious condo in the canyon. How would they fair living in a space less than half its size?

By the time I returned with the cats, the movers had unloaded everything from the moving trucks and were organizing the boxes into a tidy maze. Don, the owner of the moving company helped me unload my precious cat cargo from the car. He put the carriers in what little space was left in the living room, I graciously thanked him for his hard work and he was on his way. That was it. After a grueling eleven hours of moving, the kitties and I were in our new home—a tiny Laguna Beach cottage built in 1922, complete with a porch, a yard, a picket fence and peek-a-boo ocean view.

I opened the doors of the carriers containing the cats, cooing to calm them, “Kitties, my sweeties, welcome to your new home!” They both cautiously stepped out onto the area rug that was once in my former dining room, now in my new living room. Lexington casually sniffed boxes and investigated all three rooms—bedroom, living/dining room and bathroom, then reclined on the hardwood floor by the kitchen. He nonchalantly looked up at me. “Sooo…what do ya think Lex?” “It’s cool, Mom. I like it,” said the look on his face. Meanwhile, a leery Bobcat hid under the sofa. “Hey, Bobbycat, come on, it’s okay, “ I coaxed. He slowly crept out from under the slipcover and jumped up onto the piano in front of the windows to get a look outside. Satisfied with the sight of his new yard adorned with king palms and patches of grass, he settled in on the perch of his cat tree.

Life’s plans don’t always pan out the way we want them to. After living in apartments for all my life until I reached midlife, I finally bought my first home. The townhouse style condo was mine, all mine and I loved it. It was my forever home; yet after eleven years and unexpected financial hardship, I came to the hard conclusion that the only way to gain financial stability was to sell. The sale went fast and I got above asking price. My wonderful realtor, Cherie Phan, also negotiated the rental of this charming little house for me.

Surrendering to a tough realization that I initially fought with all my might turned out to be the very best course of action for me. It’s hard to let go of things that we become so attached to—the walls that harbored so many sweet and sorrowful events, moments and memories. The countless tears I shed as I downsized and packed-up have finally dried as I settle into this vintage abode in which I will experience newfound happiness and peace, and in which I will make new memories.

Photo courtesy of Wendy Fox

And how are the cats doing, you ask?

New places to perch

New places to lounge

That is the biggest scratching post ever!

Sports activities in the yard

Gardener Lexington

Stay tuned…

Moving tips: I used a Feliway (a feline calming solution) diffuser in the condo days before moving and one in the new home on moving day. I also sprayed the cat carriers with Feliway and sprayed the new home with Convivial House Cat (anti-stress solution) by Cat Faeries. I kept this routine going for a couple of weeks for a harmonious and seamless adjustment. (Note that the kitties are only permitted outside during the day under my supervision, and are disciplined at staying in the yard.)

Photo courtesy of Wendy Fox

I Have Cats…Not Kids

Posted on May 14, 2017 by Pamela Knudsen

After a guest spot on Laguna’s very own radio station, KX93.5 yesterday morning during which I educated listeners about our local cat sanctuary, the Blue Bell Foundation for Cats, I went to the Farmer’s Market to buy some fresh flowers. The vendor thanked me and cheerfully said, “Happy Mother’s Day!” I could have informed her that I don’t have any children, which I’ve done before in response to Mother’s Day well wishes from strangers. Rather, I smiled and said, “Thank you—you too!”

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I chose cats over kids. It wasn’t a conscious decision; I just never had the kid calling when I was in my 20s, when most women want to have babies. It hit me when I was about 38 and with a boyfriend who didn’t want children. I had two cats at the time, Punkie and Frankie and reasoned that they satisfied my later-in-life calling to have babies.

punkie and pam

Baby Frankie

That worked until we broke-up about four years later, leaving me single, in my early 40s and the yearning to have a baby came back. I entertained adoption…for about five minutes. A single woman working a paralegal job with long hours taking on a baby…I looked at Punkie and Frankie and thought, I have children. They were furry, had tails and said “meow” instead of “mommy” but they needed my love, attention and care; and I found great reward in providing all that to them. And in return, I received unconditional love, joy, and had a sense of duty that a mom of a human baby might have. I realized I was okay without kids. I had a full and rewarding life and I would use my caretaking “mommy” skills on cats and the kids in my life that weren’t mine.

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