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.

I’ll share details over the coming weeks before the sales release date, May 20^th!

Sore Back and Sour Grass

Posted on March 11, 2025 by Pamela Knudsen

I looked out the French doors to see Samantha Jo perched on the small round table in the yard. We caught eyes and she gave me a slow blink, beaconing me to come out and play, but play was not possible for me. After toting Samantha to the vet three times within ten days for a corneal ulcer (she’s now healed), the right side of my back under the ribs became sore. I quelled the pain with arnica gel and continued with usual activities over the following few days without too much discomfort—until trash pick-up day. As I pulled my large, full recycle bin to the curb, it went over a rock that caused the bin to teeter, pulling me along with it. I managed to stop the bin from toppling, and was relieved to have diverted a mess of recyclables all over the walkway.

But by 3:00 that Friday afternoon, I got up from my desk to make a cup of tea and a spasm fired through my back. After a few more painful spasms, I realized my back got the brunt of the recycle bin spill recovery. I took a prescription Motrin, put an icepack on my back, and kept on working. I managed to get through the weekend with minimal pain, but by Tuesday the spasms became frequent, and at times, debilitating.

Finally, by Saturday morning, I felt some relief. Icing, Motrin, and minimizing activity were helping. I started wearing a back brace that I’d worn years ago after a car accident and luckily, still had buried in my sock drawer. Thank you to friend Alisa for suggesting I wear a back brace. Its support of the inflamed muscles reduced pain, allowing easier mobility.

Feeling confident that I could walk the distance to Samantha, I opened the French doors and stepped onto the porch. After slowly walking towards my girl, I eased myself into the chair next to the table where Samantha remained perched. The yard was vibrant with lemon clovers. The yellow flowers looked happy with their petals wide open, facing the sun. The scene made me reflect on a time in childhood, when I would eat the stems of lemon clovers, which I knew as sour grass because of the taste. I picked one of the yellow flowers and taunted Samantha by grazing it across the table. She pawed at the stem as I pulled it away then brought it back to her face. She wacked at it a few times, but this wasn’t the same as chasing me around the yard. She quickly became uninterested.I picked another flower and wondered if I would still enjoy the sour taste after all these decades. Being a curious cat lady, I couldn’t just wonder. I bit the stem. The savory flavor took me back to being a kid again, hanging out in a neighborhood field with my brother Jeff, eating sour grass.

Samantha didn’t know what she was missing.In the photo below, I captured Lexington lounging in the lemon clovers. Now he lives on in my book, Two Cats, a Mermaid and the Disappearing Moon, which is now sold at Little Freebirds, a charming children’s boutique in Laguna Beach!

Cat Lady’s New Title

Posted on November 29, 2024 by Pamela Knudsen

Cat Lady life has been expanding with new adventures lately. My book has brought about some rewarding speaking engagements. My passion for music lead to a friendship that blossomed into romance and a once-a-month radio show co-hosting gig! Every second Sunday of the month from 3:00 to 5:00 pm, I share music and banter over the airwaves with DJ John Ford on KXFM’s radio show, AM Radio (AM for Americana Music). Tune your dial to 104.7 if you’re local, listen online or tell Alexa to play KXFM 104.7.

On November 20^th, we celebrated Samantha Jo’s fifth birthday, which translates to 36 human years. She was born into the Alpha Generation, yet the identifier is based on the Greek alphabet, not domineering and assertive characteristics. Nevertheless—she’s still Queen Sassy Pants.

And while commercialism has pushed Christmas upon us in November, I’m living in the moment and embracing autumn and the Thanksgiving holiday season. I adore my orange twinkle lights in the yard and festive fall décor in the cottage, and Samantha fits right in with the orange accents.

Although, last week I had to put my inner Grinch aside for The Blue Bell Foundation for Cats. It’s that time of year again for The Sawdust Festival’s Winter Fantasy. Blue Bell, among several nonprofits, was selected to decorate a Christmas tree in Santa’s Village at The Winter Fantasy. I was on the Christmas tree decorating committee with Blue Bell staff, Jenna and Leesa, and volunteer Terri.

In preparation for the Winter Fantasy opening last Friday, we strategically hung our very own handcrafted ornaments, carefully curating our “Santa Claws” themed Christmas tree.

Our committee attended the tree lighting ceremony along with spouses, and with me, John, my new beau. As John and I took in the bustling scene and marveled at the adorable Blue Bell tree, a boy about five years old took an ornament off the tree and began stuffing it into the tiny stocking hung behind it. The ornament was a round clear disc with a photo of a Blue Bell cat displayed from inside, and holiday embellishments on the exterior, including a name tag for the kitty. His mother stood by and watched as her kid vandalized our ornament—that is, until I stepped in.

I took the ornament out of his hand and firmly told him that we worked hard on decorating the tree and making the ornaments, and they were not to be touched. His mother looked at me, speechless, then quickly ushered her kid away from the tree. After the tree lighting ceremony, while still gathered around our Christmas tree, I told the group about the little ornament vandal. Within moments of our collective expression of irritation, a middle-aged woman approached the tree and attempted to rearrange the kitty reindeers pulling Santa Claws’s sleigh.

I marched over to her and lectured about how hard we worked on getting the placement just right and (once again) the ornaments are not to be touched! Despite dealing with ill-mannered festivalgoers, it was a glorious evening. Blue Bell even won the Cutest Tree Award.

We were about to call it a night when teenage boys came tearing through the grounds and grabbed one of the presents under our tree and started to run off with it. John and I told him to put the present back. The kid looked at me and snidely said that his name was on it. “PUT. THE PRESENT. BACK!” I yelled.