Learning Living Loving

Posted on January 16, 2023 by Pamela Knudsen

“It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again”

Lyrics from “Times Like These” by the Foo Fighters

I awoke on Sunday, January 15^th feeling a little restless, but wasn’t sure why. I’d slept well, Samantha was curled up in a blanket-lined basket a few feet from the bed and it was Sunday—a day of doing what I pleased. Why did I feel heavy-hearted? I made coffee, settled into the cozy chair with the organic French Roast in my favorite owl mug and watched the dark predawn sky become light gray through the French windows. It was still lightly raining. Samantha was sprawled out by the small round ottoman on which my feet rested. I chuckled as I watched her watching me. She was so happy, and so at peace.

Then it occurred to me: January 15^th was the two-year anniversary of Bobcat’s passing. I mentally time traveled back to that day in 2021, his last day with me, two weeks before my cancer surgery. He was a major source of strength for me during my cancer battle, never leaving my lap, or my side.

Bobcat comforted me and kept me smiling, even laughing during some of the darkest moments. I recall wondering how I was going to manage without him; dreading coming home from the hospital several days after surgery to an empty cottage.

I lit a candle in Bobcat’s honor, said out loud that I loved and missed him, hoping that he could somehow hear me from Heaven then brushed off the heavy feeling as I got on with my morning. As I washed the breakfast dishes, the song “Times Like These” by the Foo Fighters came to mind. The chorus looped through my thoughts while I placed the clean, wet dishes onto the dish-drying rack. Now I needed to hear the song–for real, not just in my head. I asked Alexa to play it and I watched, on YouTube, an emotional Dave Grohl belt it out through tears during the tribute to Taylor Hawkins concert.

Music can bring light to situations. My cancer battle, the loss of Bobcat, although tough and heartbreaking, those times made me learn to live again. Then Samantha Jo came into my life, and I learned to love again, and Samantha gave me reason to give, and give again.

Watch/listen to “Times Like These” sung by Live Lounge Allstars (BBC Radio 1 Stay Home Live Lounge), a moving performance of 24 musicians during the COVID lockdown, which raised funds for various charities.

Bobcat’s Goodbye

Posted on January 30, 2021 by Pamela Knudsen

As I became conscious before opening my eyes, I instinctively reached for Bobcat. He was not in bed sleeping next to me. He must be standing guard at the front door or reclining by his scratching post, I thought. I anticipated that any moment I would hear him clawing at the scratcher or the click-clack sound of claws on the hardwood floor.

Within seconds of those thoughts, in my pre-dawn haze, I remembered that Bobcat was no longer with me. Just the day before he’d joined his best buddies, Topper and Lexington in Heaven. Over the course of three days after an advanced kidney failure diagnosis resulting from diabetes, Bobcat slowly started to succumb to the inevitable. Before he got any closer to suffering, I called Home Pet Euthanasia of Southern California. On Friday afternoon, January 15^th, Bobcat’s spirit was peacefully set free from his dying body.

Lexington and Topper

For the first time in thirty-three years, I’m without felines in my household. I’m a cat lady with no cats. Having had two or three cat companions in my life for all these years, and now, being completely alone is jarring to my soul.

Three Cat Night. From the top: Topper, Lexington and Bobcat.

Mornings are the hardest without Bobcat. I miss his good morning greetings of head-butts and “kisses” on my forehead and cheeks.

Early this morning I walked out to the old picket fence enclosing the yard to take in a stunning view of the full moon nestled in storm clouds. While moon gazing, I thought of Bobcat. He would have been standing right there next to me in the lemon clovers if he were still here.

Magical Moon

Not wanting tears to ruin my view of the beautiful scene in the sky, I stifled them. But as I walked back towards the cottage, tears started to slowly run down my face. Tears of sadness, yet, I smiled thinking that Bobcat’s precious spirit was with his compadres, Topper and Lexington, flying in the clouds and saying an enthusiastic “Hi Mommy!” to me from the moon.

I was in the midst of writing an entirely different story before I became a cat lady with no cats. I wondered how I would continue writing about my life with cats—sans cats. My mom and cat lady friend Gail both reminded me that I’m still a cat lady and have stories to tell. So I will continue my stories about Bobcat and other cats who were, or are still in my life. And once I’m past the grief of mourning; once I’m rid of cancer and I’m back to my lively self, I will have more stories to tell about a new feline family member…or two.

Photograph courtesy of Rachel Ault

To my precious Bobcat (who also responded to nicknames Bobby Cat, Bobba, Bobba Cat and Bibbidi-Bobbidi as called by friend Laura who thought him to be quite magical), thank you for your unwavering love, companionship, and for being a strong healing source in my life throughout my dealings with cancer.

I will miss you forever.

XOXO

Just You and Me, Cat

Aside

Bobcat’s napping on the bed and I can hear his soft snoring coming from the bedroom. I’ve got KXFM, Laguna’s radio station playing Americana music in the kitchen, but it still seems too quiet; too still. Not that I like loudness or lots of activity around me while I’m writing, but something about having two cats, one in the bedroom, one on my desk, both snoozing while I write brought just the right amount of background reverberations. And their complementing personalities, Lexington, protective and pensive, Bobcat, silly and boyish was the perfect energy mix to fill these four walls—and my heart with harmony, and lots of love.

Lex, my efficient assistant…

It’s been over thirty years since I’ve had only one cat in my household. Ever since that day in the late ‘80s, when I let an abandon sweet-faced kitty into my apartment who instantly connected with my one cat, Frankie, I learned that one is not enough, and have had two or three cats ever since (read bios of Frankie, Punkie, Lexington, Topper and Bella under “Meet the Family”).

Frankie and Punkie

I’m not the only one adapting to Lexington’s absence. Bobcat outwardly grieved for several weeks, not leaving the bed except to take care of basic needs, but even his appetite waned for several days.

Bobcat on Lexington’s cozy pad

Then a couple of weeks ago, I was making dinner and heard funny thumping noises in the living room, where I found Bobcat whacking Lexington’s green tennis ball across the floor. When he caught me spying on his newfound sports activity, he ran over to me and rubbed up against my legs over and over. I knelt down and gave him long, tight hug. The sound of his purring rivaled the rumble of a Harley Davidson. Bobcat had never even gone near Lexington’s tennis ball before, which made witnessing his first move towards healing extra special.

Bobcat has been in my life for about six years. During this time, I believe he understood my tight connection with Lexington and respectfully, didn’t interfere. But now, in our solitude together, Bobcat and I are bonding. We are building a routine. He now signals to me when he wants to play ball. I toss the tennis ball—he chases it and when that gets boring (after about one minute) then he attacks the toy mice that I’ve scattered around the floor. After I crawl into bed at night, he stands guard at the front door, watching for ominous critters (a giant raccoon recently sauntered up the walkway) and when he feels that all is well in the neighborhood, he hops onto the bed and curls up close to me. When Lexington slept next to me, Bobcat would usually sleep closer to the foot of the bed. I love seeing his personality blossom as his grief lifts, and as he adapts to his new roll in the household as the protector, and I cherish our deepening relationship.