Posted in Our Cats

Meet DeeJAY

So I was driving home from my less-than-satisfactory Japanese class when a squirrel flung itself in front of my car. I hit my breaks, and the squirrel hurried along, splatting on the fence outside the auto and technical school side of campus.

Without thinking, I flipped on my emergency lights—no one was behind me; it was late—then I hurried, the way a slow-motion part of your life almost demands you hurry, to the fence to see if the little fella was okay.

It was a kitten.

Not a squirrel—a meowing kitten.

I swooped the kitten up, he hissed at me, I hurried into my car, and we drove home.

I was halfway to my apartment before I realized I had a kitten in my lap.

Did I mention it was pouring rain?—this shivering little kitten felt more like a sponge than a mammal. The story has a happy ending, though. I brought him to the vet, cleaned him up, and taught him how to live with sass. Now his name is Davy Jones.

We don’t call DJ “Davy Jones” anymore, though; I only hear the echo of his original name when Philosopher Jones licks his head, and I remember, Oh yeah; I named him that because Philo adopted him. Because he was sopped with rain.

Instead, we call him DeeJAY.

When DeeJAY was still a kitten, he hid so well in my office, I was convinced he wriggled his way outside; so Chase and I spent all night wandering around the apartment complex. I slept with the living room door open, and my other cats locked in the bedroom and office, waiting for him to come in.

He didn’t reveal himself until Chase did about two hundred squats (over an all-nighter, if two hundred squats isn’t painful enough on its own); until I wept every spare fluid out of my body; until we were convinced we lost a kitten, and I dragged my defeated body to my computer to make the MISSING CAT posters.

Then DeeJAY wandered out from wherever bullshit place he’d hidden and curled into my lap. And this describes what it’s like to live with him in a nutshell.

Posted in Our Cats

Meet Phoebe

So far I’ve introduced one of our six cats:

  1. Philosopher Jones;
  2. Phoebe;
  3. Buttercup;
  4. Thomas;
  5. Greg;
  6. DeeJAY.

I’m introducing them in order from oldest to youngest. 🤗 So next up is our diva:

Phoebe, or Keetten, is my 11yro silver Bengal 💙


My ex purchased her from a breeder in Lake Elsinore. She road home in my lap. Then she grew up crawling all over my keyboards.

Phoebe 💜 my sweet girl says, #ohhai #catsofinstagram #bengalcat

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She’s a cute keetten. Her and I have always been two peas in a pod—fellow weirdos.

True to bengal behavior, she can be mischievous. She doesn’t care she’s a senior now, either. She’ll still crawl all over my desk. But she’s a runt, so she can be flighty around people she doesn’t know. Also, my ex also didn’t treat her the best. It takes a while before she’ll get frisky around a new person.


Her and Loki were close, so when I lost him, that was hard. Philosopher Jones, Loki’s brother, still likes to assert his dominance over her, but she’s not really into it.

I think it’s interesting she’s developed the freckle on her nose over the years… The nose freckles are in neither of her photographs with Loki.


I think Phoebe saw Loki as a protective figure in early life. Now she’s bonded with Thomas, our tuxedo cat. They play by getting up on their hands and wiggling their front paws at each other.

I’m still trying to land a recording of Thomas and Phoebe playing together. In the meantime though, I have lots of other recordings of her silliness.


Phoebe likes to play fetch. This is her watching a shoestring while it’s still in the air. After my Dad found out she likes shoestrings, he bought her a whole pack of them.

Then I learned how to weave a shoestring into a celtic heart shape, so it makes it easier to throw long distances. It’s really not that hard to do; if you’re looking for a way to make affordable cat toys, consider celtic heart, dye-free laces or sisal.

Phoebe likes to come with me to my monthly trips to Anaheim, to visit friends and Dad.


Here’s her looking out one of the windows, feeling the breeze blow in from outside. Sometimes she gets the courage to wander out onto the catio, but usually she prefers window safety.

When we’re in Fresno, she sleeps on a pile of old blankets and stuffed animals, familiar cuddle objects from long ago.


She has the most beautiful rosettes. Bengals are also good for people with cat allergies, because their pelt is a lil’ different from normal cat fur. I’ve been taking close-up photos of her fur like this for a decade.

If you don’t like talkative cats though, bengals could drive you bananas. They always have a lot to say. Especially if you go after their eye boogers!

I’m convinced Phoebe’s developed over 100 meows, each with their different meanings and meowplications. Her and I are tight because I respond to these different meows better than most. But then, of course Momma responds better than most. 😍🐈😍


She has mixed feelings about me crawling all over her with my iPhone two inches away. But she has mixed feelings about everything. So do I. This is why she’s my familiar. 😺

Phoebe has a lot to say 😁 #catsofinstagram #bengalcat #meowingtons

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When she meows a lot, I tell her, You say it like it is!

I’ve always wondered if that drives her nuts. Like, if she’s thinking…

Ugh. Human. I’m trying to have an intellectual meowversation with you!