Yep. Chirps and trills and chirrups.

She had quite the repertoire. Spoke up often. Every time you’d pet her. Her brother never did that. He had his own little quirks.

They all have personalities, don’t they.

Thank you, Raine.

I still look at the end of the bed, half-expecting she’ll come lumbering on up this set of foam steps that make it possible for a pet to climb up onto the bed. She used it every day. At a certain point a couple of years ago it became harder for her to hop up onto the bed. We got it from a friend who wasn’t using it anymore. We’re leaving it in place. It’ll still serve - maybe for the kittens when they’re allowed to come into the bedroom. A few days from now, perhaps.

She was quite a little chirruping girl.

They all leave a mark, don’t they…

Thanks, my friend. I like to imagine that she's back with her brother again.

Brings some comfort.

Thank you brer cat.

The kittens do ease the pain. But it’ll probably always be there, at least a little bit.

I’ll always think of her whenever I hear those two songs.

Barney & Betty taught us that.

Litter mates! The only way to fly, from now on.

Among the best pet advice I’ve run across! “Double your pleasure, double your fun … “ and all that.

Just wanted to share - as September drains away.

Remembering Betty - The cat with kaleidoscope eyes...

She's been gone a week-and-a-half, and I'm still choked up, dammit.

The last of our L.A.-origin critters left us a week ago Sunday evening. We got the call from the emergency animal hospital that's open 24/7 even on weekends, after the other vets close for the day. They wanted us to take her there where she could get intensive care and some important tests scheduled for Monday morning. She made it to mid-evening, after they'd given her some pain medication and bedded her down for the night. Then about 8:15pm, they called to say she had passed. Pain meds must have helped her let go, and she let go all the way. It was inevitable anyway - she was almost 14, had outlived her brother Barney by a couple of years, and was very ill by then.

I've had some time to recover, especially since my husband thought we ought to stop by the local Petco this past Monday. "Need anything at Petco? Cat litter? New kittens?" Me: "Ohhhhhh???" He was only half-joking. Went in there, yep, they had kittens available for adoption. We fell in love with another little pair of litter mates and they came home with us. Like Barney and Betty had done, 14 years ago, while we were still living in L.A. Julian and Kira (named after some of our favorite "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine" characters) are now running the joint, little as they are, and it's only been three days. Litter mates, though! BEST way to do it. They have each other and keep each other company, so the adjustment's WAY easier. Hence Julian and Kira. He's an orange tabby, and she's a grey-and-white tabby.

But no one could replace Betty. She always reminded me of that Beatles lyric - "the girl with kaleidoscope eyes" - because she had 'em. One blue eye and one green eye. The right eye was blue and the left eye was green. She and Barney were short-hairs, both "harleys" - kinda like harlequin cats - mainly white but with patches of black, brown, grey tabby, and whatever else was under there. White is a masking color in cat fur patterns, evidently. Barney had regular green cat eyes, lots of white fur, a jaunty black "cap" of black tilted just so on his head, a black tail with a kink at the end, and all color blotches against the white fur were black. Betty was different. Black AND grey tabby blotches in the white fur. And a few random beigey-grey spots. And she had pink and grey toes. And she trilled. She'd make these little chirping, trilling noises for what I figured might be "what?" "huh?" and the ever-popular "is this for me?" She'd sometimes announce herself that way, or greet you that way in the morning. "Prrrrrrrrrrup?"

She outlived her brother, who got sick and left us well before the pandemic took hold. But Betty prevailed. Fat 'n' sassy, happy to sleep on the corner of our bed - sometimes all day!

All our "fur babies" from Los Angeles are now gone. And four big paw-print-shaped holes are left in my heart - but especially from Betty. I LOVED those eyes. And when the light would catch them at night, and reflect inside and play on the retinas, we'd joke that she looked like an airplane - a red eye and a green eye, her own distinct kind of "port and starboard". And then the Rolling Stones would start singing that lyric in the back of my mind - "she comes in co-o-lors, oooh-la-la,ooh la-la-la-la la!" She WAS indeed a rainbow.

We packed all four of our four-leggeds in the compact car - put the back seat down and she and Barney rode up to Oregon in a large wire pet crate. dB was in a cat carrier. Goldie the dog curled up on a large chair pillow. I'd take her out at every stop so she could - um - stretch her legs. The cats were content to zone out. I kept checking. It took 16 hours and not a peep out of any of 'em. They adapted to their new home up here quite nicely. We were all together, the same unit. So I guess that made it easier.

September was a VERY crazy month. Uncharacteristically heavy workload! My indivisible group hosted two sizable rallies in three weeks at our "Democratic" Congressman's local office, and I did all the press and protocol - before, during, and after. That's in addition to all the work entailed in the weekly Call to Action email that we put together every weekend. And Betty started failing. She shifted into a noticeably lower gear several months ago and I couldn't help but wonder if this was the year she might leave. Betty's the last of the L.A. four-footers. From now on, feline or canine, they're all native Oregonians. But Betty left her mark. She loved me and would stretch out and arch her back - ON my laptop. Across the lower rows of keys while I was trying to write. As a kitten, she slept under my chin when I'd flat on my back. She still wanted to be there after she weighed 19 pounds. So I kept her close.

Still do.

Always will.

Why donald! Is that you?

Thy evidently think "sorry" is for sissies.

And the added dynamic of “nobody wants to admit they were wrong, or worse, that they’ve been royally HAD.”