I'm not getting any younger. That's for sure. Every day new aches pop up and the type on cat food can labels looks like a secret code only a mouse could read. I don't have children (other than furry ones) and my family is sparse, mostly non-cat people (how that happened, I don't know) or I hate their guts (oops).

That leaves me with a predicament.

Who will care for my cats after I die? Sam and I are together so often that we could die together in an accident. What then? What if Sam dies first, then I die?

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob has already had two families that I know of. Will he have another one day?

I have a Will. In it, I dictated that the Director of the group I'm with should find homes for my cats. I have come to realize that that choice is not a good one any longer. I would rather know the homes my cats are going to now, if, at all possible. Just as people do with children, I would like to choose “Godparents” for my cats.

Am I being morbid? NO. I'm being realistic. Shit happens even when you're 18 or 32. I'm pushing the big 5-0. I've been lucky so far, but one day the luck will run out.

©2008 Robin A.F. Olson. Cricket sleeps. My former feral is mostly too shy around anyone but us. What will become of him? He's a really sweet boy. He would not make it in a shelter.

I started to imagine putting just one person in charge of all the cats. They would get my house, most of my stuff, but would have to live here until all the cats pass away (naturally!), then they can do what they want with the stuff. But that's a lot to ask.

The other problem is that the people who would give my cats the best home, already HAVE, in most cases, quite a few cats, already. Asking them to take 8 more is too much. Perhaps, asking them to take one or two is possible?

I don't have to have it all sorted out in a day (I hope), but I dipped my toe into the water to see how it would feel. I asked someone to take Bob Dole, should he outlive me.

I asked, Super-Deb.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer. The pouffy cat with his own fan club. Spencer is my beloved, but he wouldn't be an easy fit into just any home. He must have play time or he can be bossy with other cats. He's an alpha-boy, too and does not like belly rubs or to be picked up. That said, he loves to be near me at all times and he's “my boy.”

I love Super-Deb, but who wouldn't love someone who is super? Even though I've known SD for many years, I don't know her very well. She is a private person, with me, but I get the feeling she's shared things with me that maybe not many other people know. She may seem to be a bit guarded, but it doesn't take long for her to reveal a wicked dry sense of humor. Her devotion to her own animals and her loving care of them is a beautiful sight to behold. She really knows her stuff and has been a mentor to me during so many crises and a calming voice during the worst of it.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. Petunia or “'Tunie” as I call her. She should be called; “Princess.” She's clever, chats with me and can do tricks, but she is high strung-no wonder, she's one of the lowest cats and I know the boys pick on her some times. She would be great in a home with no other cats other than her mama, Gracie. I know she would blossom.

She's jokingly called “Aunt Debbie” when Bob goes to Dr. Larry's. Bob loves her and vice versa. He will let her brush him and he won't let me do as much. I only want Bob to visit Dr. Larry when Aunt Debbie is there to oversee his care. It's a perfect fit for SD to take Bob.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. I should re-name this cat, “Poor-Gracie.” for she is not in good shape. I'll write more about her, separately, but she's had a very long road with a skin ailment that's taken her beauty and her joy in life. She needs a kind hand and a knowledgeable person to keep her healthy.

Yesterday we were talking on the phone about my worries about Gracie. I didn't have the nuts to ask her about Bob, so I sent her an email, shyly asking her to ignore my being a loonie, and would she consider taking Bob (along with some money for his care) if something happens to me and Sam? She wrote back a resounding YES!

A few minutes later, my phone rang. SD blurted; “Can I have Blitzen, too?!”

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob and Blitz. Some days things are just perfect.

I didn't want to ask her for that, thinking it was too big of a request, but of course, YES. I would be happy for her to take him, too.

I've got four more cats to figure out homes for, unless Sam wants me to try to place his cats, too, and then it will be six. Once we have this worked out, I go to my lawyer. I want to protect my cats as much as I can after I die. They shouldn't have to face death row at a shelter because they might be older or sickly. It's not fair to them at all.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. I assume there will be a fist-fight over Nicky, but with Nicky, comes Nora. Maybe they can go back and live with their brothers; “Charles and Bailey,” but I haven't asked just yet.

I hope that all of you will think about this and how it effects your own life and cat-family. Yes, it's scary or creepy or “you just don't want to go there,” but if you don't “go there” it's selfish. What of your cats? Their future well-being? Your dogs? Some times you have to do things that are unpleasant, but knowing you have it worked out, for when your time comes? Well, hopefully, it's a great comfort to you and most assuredly, the least you can do for your pets.

Nick and Nora. Sam's cats. These two cats are just about the biggest cats I've ever seen. Nicky is not even fat, he's just gigantic. Nora, well, she's slowly slimming down, but still kinda-sorta looks like a baby seal at the right angle.

Well, it's Sunday, folks, a perfect day for a long snuggle with the kitties, maybe read a good book with a cup of tea or coffee? Maybe a ripped, shirtless, guy would bring me some donuts, while I'm relaxing? Maybe he would also rub my feet for at least two hours (per foot). Then he would clean the house and prepare an elegant, delicious meal for me to enjoy, before he LEAVES.

Ah, Sunday. A day for dreams.

Circa 2006, the cats gather 'round the fridge. Is it for a late night snack? In so many words, YES.

Go ahead, YOU tell me what this means. Don't need a manual to understand this cat behavior I photograhped in 2006, right?

Coincidently, the same thing is going on in my bathroom right now. Some critter is makin' a whole lotta noise in the wall behind the shower stall. Sweet! Guess it's time to pull out the havahart trap before my cats find whatever creature has moved in.

By the way, the mouse that was under the fridge was probably depressed and suicidal because I can't figure out any other reason why a mouse would DARE come into my house!

I thought I'd share a few extra bits of information regarding Blitzen's recent adoption that you might find amusing (written while Blitzen is literally hanging over my shoulder, purring loudly).

Blitz really enjoys catnip!

Some of you remarked that Sam is a “Saint” for being willing to go along with my urging that we bring another cat into the household. In fact, Sam was the one who was ready to adopt Blitzen weeks ago. It was I who was doing the feet-dragging. Sam took a liking to Blitz waaaay back when he was just a tiny tike. For myself, I'm so used to telling myself I can't adopt any foster, that I pushed away any notion of it happening. It's simply not done!-not when you have SEVEN cats who don't get along like perfect little angels.

I was the one who worried about what it would mean for our other cats and worried about the urine marking festival that would and did take place. Yes, there was some fighting, too and urine marking all over the house, once Blitzen was out and about. Was Blitzen the culprit? No. Petunia, as ever, has been neurotically marking and I'm guessing Cricket may have followed suit. Regardless of who did it, over the past four weeks or so, the marking seems to have stopped (of course you have to be diligent and LOOK for it every day and make sure to clean it up VERY WELL). There doesn't seem to be any fighting and I've noticed some very subtle shifting around of where each cat hangs out.

Gracie and Petunia, the skittish twosome, are now residing in our bedroom most of the day, but it's sunny in there and they enjoy their selection of cat beds that are right next to a sliding glass door for a view of the woods. They've physically separated themselves from everyone else, but, they DO still come downstairs and eat well and Gracie even “chats” with me on occasion.

(From left: Nora, Spencer, Bob. Blitzen, front and Nicky far rear of photo on left)

What's even weirder is that most of the cats now cover the bed at night. Bob, who stopped coming up the stairs (due to his advancing age and ill health), has returned. Cricket is the only cat who never comes up stairs. He just doesn't. On top of that, the cats don't seem to be fighting in the bedroom any more. This morning I woke up and saw Blitzen and Nicky, side by side, Bob, Spencer, Gracie and Petunia, all on or near the bed.

I have to wonder if this has something to do with the raw diet, because the cats are HUNGRY when it's time for breakfast, but they are also feeling better. Bob must be feeling great to get his butt up the stairs and be able to hop up onto our bed, which is rather high off the floor.

I don't have answers, I just find it all very curious. I hope this is all good signs for a comfortable and companionable future for us all. Blitzen is sitting on a chair a few feet away from me. He's purring so loud I can hear him. I have to keep taking a momentary break to pet him while I write. I swear he's smiling.

Okay, so maybe Nora needs a bit more time to warm up to Blitzen!

So I admit I was taking it slow and being cautious about moving forward with Blitzen's adoption. Sam was ready to go. I was also sad that now I really can't adopt a giant, fluffy Tuxedo kitty, but Sam surprised me the other day.

After all this, he said to me that he thought Blitzen needed a buddy close to his age and that if I wanted to adopt a Tux, then I should just go ahead and do it.

I guess you guys are right. Sam IS a Saint!

Dear Clare,

Thank you for the homemade cat mats. I know I'm supposed to give them to the foster cats-and I will, but I had to “test drive” one on my cats first.

Dear Clare,

What did you put in the cat mat? Spencer's sense of smell is poor. Normally he isn't interested in catnip. Is there something you want to tell me? Spencer is bunny-kicking the shit out of this mat. His eyes are glazed over. What is going on?

Dear Clare,

My cats won't share. They want their own mat. If they don't get one, they'll spat.

Dear Clare,

There is more square feet of cat, than there is square foot of cat mat. Can you make me a bedspread sized one?

Dear Clare,

Do you know if there's a catnip rehab facility in Connecticut? I'm thinking Bob might need to go there. He looks like he's had a bit too much and Nicky can't stop rolling around and yeowling incoherently. I'm afraid the neighbors are going to call the cops.

Dear Clare,

Nora would like to know if you can rub her belly to maximize her user experience (since she can no longer reach her own belly).

Dear Clare,

Nicky also asked if you could rub something, but I had to edit out what he said. I blame the drugs for his ungentlemanly outburst...plus, he had a surgery a few years ago and that sort of limited his options in that department, anyway.

Dear Clare & All My Dear CiCH Readers,

It's friends like you that are like a big mat of catnip for me. I can wrap myself up in your comforting words and breathe deep, feeling suddenly quite invigorated and alive when only moments before I was too busy licking my wounds to do much else.

With Love,

Robin

Nick and Nora spooning the night away in their cat bed. To the right is an EMPTY cat bed. Go figure.

I've decided I want someone to build me a "safe room" in my house. You know, those rooms you hide in that even some crazed assassin with a battering ram can't enter if you happen to be the victim of a home invasion.

I'm not particularly fearful of someone breaking into my house while I'm here. I just want a place to EAT MY LEFTOVER MEATLOAF SANDWICH IN PEACE!!!

DAMN CATS!

Okay so maybe they're not cute little kittens just learning the ropes and they weren't rescued from a tragic situation and they haven't, thankfully, had to face anything worse than being kicked (accidently, of course) off the bed at night (for HOGGING THE BED), but heck, aren't they CUUUUUTE? Don't you just LOVE THEM? Look at Nora's rear leg, draped oh so elegantly over her brother's big ass. It's endearing, is it not?

Nick and Nora believe in sharing. Either that or they're both stubborn and won't let the other have the entire chair to themselves.

Isn't it amazing to see how they can cram 46.25 pounds of cat into a small, vintage chair from the 1940's-made during the days when people's butts did not suffer from too-much-time-on-the-computer-spread. This also means that I can't fit my ass into it, which is why it's become a giant cat bed.

So there.