Sunday, March 27, 2011


I have held off blogging for two full weeks today about Josie.  No, not Jenny, who died on Friday two weeks ago, but this one:

(deplorable water bowl, I know)
Here she is, asleep in the living room near the kitchen.
She came to us last August or early September, found under a car next to mine at church one day.  When she ran out screaming, a fellow parishioner jumped on her (figuratively) and when no one else would take her, I did.  I hoped to find a home for her, as we already had Gwen, the Queen of the House.
After three days, we had fallen in love with the tiny girl, and decided to keep her.  We took her to Doctor Tom, and found out she was healthy for her hard start in life.
She duly had her three sets of shots over the next six weeks. 
In the meantime, I brought home Jenny from a farm down the road to be her companion.  Jenny, as you all know, was sick the entire time she was here with us.  She had good weeks, but many not so good.  Josie eventually began to sneeze what Jenny was sneezing, but never got sick so that she slept all the time, or quit eating.  Other than the sneezing she was fine, though Dr. Tom warned us it was only because she had had all her immunizations that she did not get terribly sick.

We had so many happy hours watching the two little girls play, until Jenny became too ill to do much more than sleep.
Josie often groomed her.

Because we were vetting Jenny every few weeks, we did not get Josie spayed on schedule.  We regretted that a month ago, when we realized she was coming into heat.  She trilled for about ten days, not caterwauling, but trilling and trying to go out the door frequently.  Then she quieted down, and seemed to be fine.  We vowed to get her to Dr. Tom sometime in the next two weeks.  On Saturday two weeks ago, the day after Jen died, the weather was beautiful here.  In and out we went all day, the pugs playing in the yard as we worked in the gardens, and Josie came in and out.  We had decided she would be an indoor cat, but she so clearly wanted out that we let her go out, where she played on the deck and in the yard close to it.  A couple of times she ventured to the garden by us, but would come back in a minute.  Sunday was another great day, and she played outside for a while in the afternoon, then came in to sleep on the back of the recliner.  I fixed a good dinner, and we ate.... then Keith decided at 7 to go out and do the last "closing up" things so he could get to bed early for the week ahead.  Out of the corner of my eye at the sink, I saw Josie jump down off the chair and follow him out, and I called out to him that she was with him.  Keith is extremely deaf, he was an artillery officer, and they did not use ear coverings 30 years ago during live fire, so he does not hear well, and did not hear me then. 

We have never seen her since. 

I could not write about it as we were hurting from losing Jenny on Friday, and we hoped that Josie would reappear.  We have stayed up late and called many, many hundreds of times, we have asked our neighbors Troy and Kathy to watch for her (as they have two toms), and we have used the searchlight to look up and down and everywhere.  We don't know if the coyotes got her or what. 
Tuesday night, Lilly was outside late, about 10:15, and began barking wildly in the garden.  We were already in bed, but I got up to see what was happening.  Lilly looked up at me as I shined the spotlight on her, and I could see her eyes in the light, and she broke off when I called her to come.  I shined the light down, and two small eyes looked back at me in the spotlight, not running.  I think now it could have been Josie.
I stupidly did not put shoes on and go out and look.

Twice before, when Nick was alive, he went out at night, and disappeared for 3 months.  Keith found him both times, the dogs would not let him back to the house.  However, we have brought them in each night, and have left food and water on the porch for Josie.  She was only 7 months old. 

It hurts me to know my own stupidity has probably killed her, or sentenced her to having a litter of kittens in the woods, where she is prey to coyotes or raccoons or possums. 

We miss her so, especially me, because Jenny was Keith's kitten through and through, but Josie, my little shadow in the house.  She often laid on the printer as I blogged, and I would reach over and stroke her.

She didn't meow very loudly, and purred quietly. 
I miss her so.


  1. Gosh, I'm so sorry. Once I bottle fed a kitten, several months later he disappeared, never to be seen again and we were terribly heartbroken. Maybe there's a chance Josie will make it back home.

  2. Oh I am so sorry to hear that. You took very good care of her, you couldn't have watched her every minute. She is sure a beautiful cat. She could show up one day.

  3. I will say a prayer to St. Francis of Assisi to protect her and bring her home. You say one too and maybe he will hear both prayers. So sorry Mary Ann and Keith. Mary G.

  4. Very sad. I hope Josie is found. Breaks my heart, the outside is a rough place for kitties. I too will say a prayer to St. Francis.

  5. I would try a live trap with can cat food in it. You might get a possum or raccoon, but you might also get her.

    Sorry to hear that you haven't found her yet.

  6. I'm so sorry, Mary Ann.... I lost one of my favorite hens yesterday to a fox and I've beaten myself up over it ever since, because I didn't have them put up before dusk.
    Prayers of peace to you, dear friend.


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