Cat Lady’s Bad Hair Days are Good Days

Posted on January 29, 2022 by Pamela Knudsen

My hair, while growing out from falling out thanks to chemotherapy had recently come to an awkward stage. The look went from sassy pixie to a mix of Dennis the Menace meets a short version of Farrah Fawcett’s iconic feathered “wings” only my wings looked like they could take me places. Enough of hair sticking up at the top of my head and flipping up on the sides—hello bandana! Last spring I wore bandanas because I had no hair. Today, I wear them to hide my crazy hairdo—and I couldn’t be happier. I have my hair and my health back.

An easy fix for unruly hair! Note: the sunflower painting in the background was painted by my talented mom!

Samantha Jo has given me cause to smile these days as well. She has eased into a more relaxed and joyful state of being. She still get’s a little cra-cra when she hears the rats at night scurrying across the roof or blustering wind, but she calms down so much quicker and finds solace by my side more often than inside an empty Amazon delivery box.

Samantha has taken to this vintage basket where she often sits while I work.

My feline counterpart is also going through an awkward hairdo stage, which in part has brought us closer. Her luscious ginger locks have become quite matted despite daily brushings. I’m in the process of de-matting her fur myself, which takes lots of patience on my part, and lots of trust on hers. Samantha enjoys being brushed, but I’ve had to carefully detangle and at times very carefully cut matted fur patches. I’ve successfully de-matted under her chin, on her chest and a few spots on her sides. With Samantha’s diminished anxiety, I hate to shake things up by taking her back to the vet for grooming; and she actually enjoys our detangling sessions. I play classical or meditation music and start by gently combing the top of her head, which she loves. Then she rolls onto her back and stretches out her front legs up over her head making herself look like the letter “Y”. I gently scratch under each front leg as though I’m tickling under the arms of a human, all the while telling her how special she is and how much I love her. Then I start picking away at the tangles—cutting them if she gets really relaxed and if I can easily see the fur from the skin.

Recommend tunes to sooth cats and us cat parents!

Samantha Jo with some bald patches and me with unruly winged hair have become quite the pair.

Only I can see her skin patches, her luxurious fur hides them well.

Sidebar: I’ve tamed my post-chemo crazy hair with amazing “hairwash”, conditioner and a crème texturizer by Innersense purchased at ROOTS the Beauty Underground in Laguna Beach, which sells only organic toxic-free products. I stopped into Roots a few days ago and was greeted by shop owner, Laura, who I hadn’t seen in a couple of years. She made me a cup of tea and we caught up, talked about my chemo hair, and she recommended the Innersense products that I ended up buying, and they have made my hair look and feel amazing. As far as the bandana goes—it’s kind of a cool look and I will continue wearing it, only now to add flair to my fashion.

Getting Stronger

Posted on August 22, 2021 by Pamela Knudsen

“After all you put me through / You’d think I’d despise you / But in the end, I wanna thank you / ‘Cause you made me that much stronger / Cause if it wasn’t for all that you tried to do / I wouldn’t know just how capable I am to pull through / So I wanna say thank you / ‘Cause it makes me that much stronger / Makes me work a little bit harder / Makes me that much wiser / So thanks for making me a fighter…”

Lyrics from “Fighter” by Christina Aguilera

I pulled a Christina Aguilera CD out of my collection and popped it into the CD player in my car for some listening pleasure on the way to an appointment at Hoag. My strength and energy, which were slowly making a comeback since my final cancer treatment seven weeks prior were waning. I started feeling worse—not better. My nurse reminded me that healing isn’t linear, but to make sure nothing else was going on, she had a couple blood tests ordered. I drove along the coast singing empowering phrases along with Christina’s powerful voice, feeling momentarily rejuvenated, and thanking cancer for making me stronger in so many ways, despite all it put me through.

I wasn’t the only one in the household dealing with health issues. Samantha had a debilitating bout of feline idiopathic cystitis or FIC (inflamed bladder with no apparent cause) in early June. We’d been back and forth to the vet four times in one month. FIC is hard to treat because it has no identifiable cause, such as infection. Many cats that get FIC are neurologically hardwired a little differently in that they are extra sensitive to noise and tend to be in a constant state of “fight or flight”, triggering an over reactive stress response causing bladder inflammation. FIC is also more prevalent in males and overweight cats (the above link covers all risk factors). FIC can be outgrown, but it can also be a life-long condition to be managed. Keeping kitty’s environment as stress-free as possible, proper diet and lots of hydration are the best medicine.

Upon learning all of this, I had an “ah ha” moment revealing what triggered the initial episode in Samantha being with me (she’d had it with her prior human, but wasn’t treated properly and it turned into bladder stones). It was a few nights before she displayed symptoms when I had a meltdown at 2:00 a.m. from being so beat-up from the cumulative effect of cancer treatments. The relentless GI issues that kept me from sleep and intense hives that could not be cured with any sort of meds caused me to belt out a scream of shear frustration and defeat that night. I was so tired, and sick of being sick that I lost it—until in the middle of that manic moment, Samantha came to mind and stifled my outburst. I got out of bed and turned on a light, and found her in the living room sitting upright and ridged facing the bedroom. “Oh sweetie! I’m so sorry!” I said through sobs as I hugged her. She looked up at me and started anxiously blinking her eyes over and over as though she was trying to calm me, but I think she was also trying to calm herself. Here she was still adjusting to a new home, and to my energy that was going in a downward spiral as radiation progressed, and now she was faced with cat mom gone mad.

Guilt weighed heavy on my heart for weeks. I let it go when I realized that manic moment was normal given my situation, and more important, part of Samantha’s healing regimen included me. I had to muster up enough strength not just to get through the final leg of radiation but also for Samantha’s well being. I had to be strong for her. I had to be positive for her. It wasn’t just about me anymore.

My blood test results turned out to be fine. Feeling debilitated on occasion along the way is part of the healing path. In hindsight, I was doing too much. Now, besides getting more rest and not pushing myself, I’ve turned to doing more things that cultivate healing, which in turn, are helping Samantha. The energy in the cottage is more peaceful. I’m feeling better and more grounded. And Samantha—she’s become more playful again; more affectionate and is showing outward signs of de-stressing.

I made the side patio escape-proof and created a catio! It’s been a joy to work on and Samantha’s stress levels have diminished (work in progress, here).

Catio complete!

Cottage Cat

Purrmaid Garden

Rearranging furniture and decor has been cathartic.

Samantha approves!

This book has daily messages of inspiration; it’s been so helpful. I read a passage each morning.

Sending loving vibes to you all!

The Manifestation of Cat Mom

Posted on May 8, 2021 by Pamela Knudsen

After I sold my condo three years ago and started packing-up all my stuff in preparation to move, I came across a journal from my high school days. One entry stated that I didn’t want kids, that I didn’t like kids much and that I didn’t want to be married. Well, that explains things! At the age of fifteen, I set an intention that stuck. I’ve never been married and never had children. In my late 30s the desire to have a baby finally kicked-in, but my boyfriend at the time who I eventually became engaged to did not want kids. It was either stay in the relationship or break it off with the hopes of finding the right match and someone who wanted kids. I loved this guy and my desire to be in a romantic partnership was stronger than my need to have a child. After four years it turned out that we weren’t very compatible and despite the engagement, he was very trepidatious about marriage, which at the time was something I wanted. Turns out my views on marriage had changed since that teenage journal entry.

When I purchased a condo in my mid-forties, I thought about adopting a child. I had the room to raise a kid and a well-paying paralegal job. But the job was demanding and my workdays long. Between work, taking care of two cats, and myself I knew that I would not be able to dedicate the time, and would not have the energy it took to properly raise a child on my own. Instead…I rescued another cat, Topper.

Topper and Froggie

I loved having three kitties in the house. Lexington, Punkie and Topper. When Punkie passed away at the age of 20, I rescued another kitty, Bella. I wanted a kitten at the time, but at the age of eight, Bella had twice been relinquished to shelters. By the time I met her, she’d been with a rescue group for several months (older cats are often overlooked for adoption). Besides feeling an instant connection with Bella, my heart hurt for her. I wanted to give her the best home ever and all the love she deserved, and I succeeded. I witnessed Bella blossom from guarded and scared to loving and confident. Three years after I adopted Bella she died from lung cancer, which was devastating and took a long time to overcome. But then another cat, Bobcat sauntered into my life and once again I had another feline to love and care for.

Bella

Bobcat

Bobcat, Topper and Lexington have all passed, and now I have a new kitty, Samantha. Once again, my maternal instincts have resurfaced and are being put to good use. It didn’t occur to my fifteen-year-old self that I could have kids that didn’t involve human children, that I could adopt children of the feline sort.

Samantha and “Bobcat”

I’ve been a proud cat mama for thirty-three years. And although I actually adore children unlike my younger self, I have no regrets for not having children of my own.