I would not be able to cross the threshold of my home if I did not include a page showcasing my three cats.
Chessie is 18 years old, by the grace of God, since she has had some interesting adventures. She was adopted from Winter Quarter Farm’s yearling barn when she was about 3 months old. She is crabby and bossy, yet can be so affectionate, and loves to sleep on my lap. I love her just the way she is. When she nearly died last year, that is what kept her alive, sheer cussedness. I cherish each and every day she is still with me.
My little Samantha died last year from cancer. She showed up on my porch when I lived on Mentelle Park and refused to leave. Half-starved and determined I was her new caretaker, her sweet, gentle soul is greatly missed. Except by certain vet clinics who shall remain nameless. Dr. Nancy McGregor was the exception. I still have trouble talking about Samantha.
Gabby also showed up on my porch and refused to leave. She is a sweetheart and so accepting of the fact she is nearly at the bottom of the pecking order.
As you can see, guess who is at the bottom of the pecking order? Luckily, Jethro loves being ‘hen-pecked’ by his kitties.
