Store dogs...

This lovely girl is the official greeter at Camaraderie Cellars. I spent a bit of time with her, wine glass in one hand, scratching her ears with the other.



Seven years ago on this day, I gave notice at the place I'd worked for 23 years, and a month later, I was free. Like a lot of people, I had a very long list of the things I wanted to enjoy in retirement. My list had all the usual things, travel and spending more time with family. But it also had one thing I really wanted when the time was right:  a puppy.

I never worried about being bored in retirement, not once. But I didn't count on not slowing down, even 7 years later. We always thought that road trips and travel don't mix well with a dog, and I don't like the idea of leaving my dog in a kennel. But finally, I think I'm starting to feel my age. Instead of getting itchy feet when I'm home too long, I feel like I'm putting down roots. A couple of trips a year is beginning to sound perfect, surrounded by plenty of time working in my yard, sitting on the deck at the cabin, quilting.

And a puppy.

Madison, reflected...

Madison found a sunbeam to sleep in this afternoon, but it meant snoozing on top of her cardboard scratching box. She didn't seem to mind.



I spotted her when I walked out of the downstairs hallway, reflected in the shiny front of the roll-around a/c unit.

Run for the roses, Corgi style...

Between Thoroughbred races yesterday, we were entertained by the sight of short-legged Corgis racing to the finish line.

The call to the post...

The parade to the post was a bit disorganized...

At the starting line...




False start...

And they're off!




These two had other things on their minds, while the others bolted for the finish.




The winners got their turn in the winner's circle...

Tabby...

A few days away to celebrate our anniversary took us to the northern coast of Washington, for some hiking and beach walking, photography and geocaching, and good food and wine tasting. We're staying in our first AirB&B, a cute cabin on a creek.



This pack of feral cats lives on Ediz Hook. The locals take good care of them; they look well-fed and healthy. The first one came out of hiding as soon as we drove in, and before we left, seven cats were sniffing around the Pilot.



We watched the late afternoon sun light up the snowy mountains behind Port Angeles, then headed for our little cabin with a pizza and a bottle of red.

Growing fast...

Sometimes, pictures just make me laugh out loud. Like this one. We've got company coming for the weekend, so Madison got another bath. We plopped her down in front of the wood stove to dry, and she spent an hour "washing" herself dry.

It's hard to believe 

how much Madison has

changed in just six weeks. 

From 4.2 pounds...

... to 7.1 pounds. Madison is growing so fast, and if she has the breeding we think she has, she may get very big indeed. 

At first, we thought Maine Coon. But now we're thinking she is closer to a Siberian. She has more of the characteristics of the Siberian, and is a dead-ringer for some of the online photographs we've seen. 

Time will tell... and these big cats can take five years to grow up, so we'll have lots of time to watch her grow. 

Bathtime...

It's the first day of a new year, full of possibilities. Winter is a great time to slow the pace, to take time to reflect and plan, while winter gets on with its cold temperatures and snow and rain and whatever else it wants to throw at us.

Our weather has turned beautiful and sunny and cold, and I pulled open all the blinds and built a fire, and sat down to enjoy the sunshine along with my mug of tea. Madison climbed up on my lap, and as we cuddled, it was clear that DW was right:  it's time for the dreaded first bath.

So off they went to the bathroom, and I crossed my fingers. I think The Bath is the ultimate indicator of a cat's disposition, and really hoped she wouldn't go ballistic. And in spite of the ferocious pose, Maddie was as good as gold.

There are few things more amusing than a long-haired cat that's soaking wet, so some photos were in order. Then I wrapped her in a bath towel and took her out by the wood stove where it was warm. All my other cats would spend hours washing every inch all over again, but she didn't. She was happy to snuggle down in a succession of warm, dry towels, and purr.

Madison

The cat search took us to three shelters in the north, on our drive to Canada. And at the last one, we found the perfect kitten. We saw lots of cats and kittens that would have made great additions to the family, but when I saw this wee bundle of fluff, I just knew she was the one.

I've been collecting favorite names for months now, both for dogs and cats, thinking ahead (and doing a bit of wishful thinking, I admit).

In the last shelter, in the last room, after looking at a cage full of adorable kitten siblings, I saw her. A fluffy bundle of dark grey and light gold fur. When I stopped to say hello, she opened her eyes. Deep topaz eyes with a narrow ring of bright green, stunning. Before we got to play with her in a private room, before we'd filled out adoption papers, I knew.



We'd named her before we hit the border to Canada. We had a great time with family over the Thanksgiving holiday, but I know we were both thinking ahead to today, when we could pick Madison up, and take her home.

Seven cats...

This is the longest I've ever lived without a cat in my house. From the time I was four years old, when a tiny black and white kitten came to live with our family, there's been at least one cat around.

Just two months after DW and I got married, Taffy came to live with us. He was a barn kitten who was born across the road from my in-laws. A feisty, playful, yellow ball of fluff with blue eyes, he fit completely inside DWs bathrobe pocket. (Somewhere there's a picture of that!) He made the move to the Tri-Cities with us, and 7 years later, moved back to the wet side with us. He loved living on the farm.

Taffy was our first yellow cat, and James was our last. In between came Rumble Patrick, Muffin, Tigger, Annie, and Phoebe. We adopted all of them, or they adopted us. James moved in the summer of my 50th birthday, and moved into the house and our hearts during my birthday party.

Travel and house guests and a long road trip kept us from looking for another feline to share our life.
Today, the search begins.

It's hard to say goodbye...

Murphy, the Maine Coon, has been with us for three weeks. Tomorrow 

is his last day on the farm; he's  going home to Leavenworth.

Murphy and I have bonded the last week or so, and he follows me around 

the house, purrs when I say his name, and curls up next to me at night.

He has made himself at home on the furniture, on our bed, and in front 

of the woodstove. I hope we haven't taught him any bad habits.

And although I'm glad that I won't have to cover up 

my water glass anymore, I will miss having him around.

Escape artist...

After vacationing in Ireland, then a road trip, then family arriving from Australia, followed by a month-long road trip to Colorado (and Idaho, Utah, Nevada, and Oregon), then the return of the Aussies, then cat sitting the adorable Murphy... (whew!)... we've started the hunt for a kitten or two.

It's been a bit over six months since we lost our last cat, James. She was an American Shorthair, with the swirl pattern on her coat, but was much bigger boned. So I think she probably had some Maine Coon in her; they have the same patterned coat.

But this wee girl is pretty cute. She and her siblings were in an old stable block on a farm in Ireland. Escape artist? She'd fit right in at our house!

A cat in the house...

We're cat sitting for friends who are cruising in Italy. Murphy is a big (is there any other kind?) Maine Coon tabby.

The first day, he hid under the basement stairs. And, on the second day.

The third day, I spent the morning reading and writing in the downstairs family room, to keep him company. He wandered through a couple of times and said hello, but hissed if I touched him.

The fourth day, I spent most of the day sitting with him. It was raining, and I had a raging headache, so the peace and quiet of the basement suited me just fine. He spent more time exploring today; he likes sitting on the windowsill to watch the birds.

The fifth day, he came upstairs all by himself, but slept most of the day on my chair in the family room. He's laying low while there are kids in the house.

On Halloween, I carried Murphy upstairs three times to explore. On this rainy and chilly day, we built a fire in the woodstove and put his basket in front of the hearth, and that was all he needed to feel completely at home. That night, he slept on our bed.

We get to have him for three weeks, and then we really need to find a new kitten of our own. The house needs a cat.

A new dog in the neighborhood

We'd stopped for the mail, and our neighbor waved us over. We waved "Hello," in return, then noticed the cute bundle of energy at his feet. Cool... a new puppy!

Koko is a mostly black German Shepherd, just 7 weeks old, one of eight in the litter. His dad was mostly black, so it will be fun to see how Koko changes as he grows. Inn the way of all puppies, he's absolutely adorable. I'm so happy to have a dog living next door again!

No animals allowed...

Sometimes you're in the right place at the right time, looking in just the right direction. This trio of obviously related felines wasn't at all deterred by the sign... maybe they think of themselves as "service animals?"

A logical cat

When we bought our small farm, there was a rustic, hand-made bird feeder mounted on a post in the garden that bordered the patio, the perfect spot for watching birds.

My youngest cat agreed. Tigger was always my hunter, and loved having five acres to roam. I never caught her off the property, so I never worried she'd get herself into trouble. I'd find her in the orchard, crouched completely still, waiting to catch a mouse. Or hanging out by the chicken coop, watching the baby chicks. She even managed to catch a Stellar jay, quite a coup for such a small cat.

One day I came home from work, changed clothes, and grabbed my gardening tools. And then I spotted Tigger. My clever cat figured out a way to get 6 feet off the ground, and up into the bird feeder, where she waited patiently for the birds to come to her.

Consider the logic, if cats have such a thing. Did she sit on the patio and watch the birds fly in and out of the feeder, then decide that was the perfect place to lie in wait? She was a very smart cat, and I don't doubt it for a minute.

I came across this bird feeder today. It was brought crashing to the ground in January 1994, when a major windstorm snapped the top of a huge cedar tree. I put the remaining pieces in the barn, thinking I'd rebuild it. And never did. But now, maybe I will, and put it back on a post by the patio.

And remember my sweet cat.

Storing Christmas

It has become as much a holiday tradition as decorating for the holidays. I bring down the plastic crates full of small cardboard boxes, and put in a DVD movie, usually an old favorite that I don't need to watch closely. I pour a glass of wine, get out all the ornament boxes, and settle in for an afternoon of carefully dismantling the Christmas trees, separating ornaments from wire hangars, sorting them into piles, then figuring out what goes in which box... putting Christmas away for another year.

Since our small house doesn't have room for a big tree, instead I decorate a forest of small trees that I spread around the house, kitchen and dining room, living room and bedroom, even the upstairs hall. I love the look.

Packing the ornaments away was always made more challenging by the presence of our cats. The couple of years when we had five cats, I had to lock them in the basement if I wanted any ornaments to survive. Our Russian Blue, Phoebe, was especially tempted by all those shiny little balls. Usually I managed to get them down and packed before Phoebe lost control and whacked one across the floor. With wood floors and an eager cat, ornaments could sail clear across the room and smack into the wall before I could say “No!”

We lost Phoebe a few days after Christmas 2013, and we still miss her. As I sorted and wrapped, I couldn't help thinking about her, and missing her mischief.

Trail dog

Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent.
To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden,
where doing nothing was not boring... it was peace.

Milan Kundera

I've felt really nostalgic the past week or so, seeing blogging friends posting photos of their dogs, and remembering how much I loved sharing my life with a dog.

Storm was our second dog, and our last dog (at least so far). He was a rescue dog, as most of our resident four-legged creatures have been. He came to us in early winter, after our Norwegian Elkhound disappeared one night. When I put up a note at work, a friend asked if we were interested in adopting a Siberian Husky that they had rescued. D fell in love with this big furry dog at first sight, and we took him home. We figured with 5 acres, if Bjorn ever found his way home, there was plenty of room for two.

We soon figured out that while kind and gentle with people and cats, Storm had a different perspective on farm animals. The first time we let him run in the front pasture, he chased the geese. The geese could look out for themselves, however, and the gander chased Storm off. A month later we were working in the front pasture, and suddenly Storm just took off, heading for our neighbor's place. By the time Dave got there, Storm had jumped the fence of their goat pen and had one of the goats pinned. So from then on, he was on a run unless he was in the house with us. We were disappointed. We wanted a farm dog, one that could stay outside while we were at work, keeping an eye on the place.

If we couldn't trust Storm off-leash at home, how would he behave when we went hiking? There was only one way to find out. We chose a trail off Snoqualmie Pass while there was still snow on the ground, and off we went. We kept Storm on a leash for the first mile, then unclipped the leash. We figured he'd either run off, or he'd figure it out and stay with us. We held our breath as he ran ahead of us about 30 feet, stopped and sniffed the snow... and came right back to us. We hiked for hours, and this dog knew his place was a few dozen yards ahead of us, and he kept a careful eye on us, never getting out of our sight. He became the perfect trail dog, and we never left him at home when we went hiking.

Kittie cousins...

While we took a fly fishing road trip, James took a little trip of her own: to visit my sister and brother-in-law and their young cats. She came home to us today, when we all gathered together for one last meal before our Aussie niece and her boyfriend flew home.

When we walked in, James was napping on the sofa with our nephew, Jeff. And she looked completely happy and comfortable there, with a human hand in reach if she wanted some love.

My sister's cats are female litter mates, one orange and white who looks a lot like James, the other a calico. They are adorable and fun, and after nearly three weeks, still a bit wary of James (and vice versa).

As we fixed a raft of different pizzas for dinner I kept an eye on my own orange cat, and at one point she disappeared. I looked everywhere, and finally glanced into the windows beyond the claw-footed tub and spotted her. She'd climbed into a basket on the windowsill, ignoring the larger James-sized basket, instead squeezing into a basket half her size.

Murphy

Murphy came along this weekend, and after watching us eat dinner, he settled down on the loveseat and snuggled up to his favorite pillow. He was very obliging when I got out my camera, and gave me his best poses.

Goodbye, Phoebe

She reached the end on Monday... nearly 18 years of age, a good life. She came into our house as a rescue cat, and became the instant alpha cat, straight to the top of the heap over Tigger (an equally small brown tabby), Annie (a huge calico), and Muffin (the matriarch). Dave fell instantly in love with this lanky, athletic Russian Blue cat, and was the most hard hit by her death.

Phoebe | May 1996 to December 30, 2013

We will remember her strong personality and insistent meow, her feats of grace and strength (jumping up to the top of the wall-mounted kitchen cabinets comes to mind), and her antics... leaping four feet straight up in the air when startled, or endlessly chasing the laser dot of the cat toy. I will remember this beautiful and loyal cat who followed me wherever I went, who loved to lie down on the keyboard as I worked, and whose favorite spot was on the back on the couch, with her front paws and head on my shoulder.

We will miss her.

A mouse for Murphy

Cats get all the cool toys...  our friends' cat, Murphy, got the cutest mouse for Christmas. It has catnip, and has an internal electronic mouse squeak that's completely realistic. Murphy pretends to be above it all, but set the mouse down anywhere nearby, and he's all ears.

He was tolerant of the New Year's crown,
perhaps thinking we'd finally recognized his royal status.

He was less than thrilled about the princess hat.
Perhaps he thought we'd misread his masculinity.

He'd had enough when the funny glasses came out and left the room,
but we all thought Dave looked pretty good in them!