Author: Shadow Cats

In Memory of Lunita     5/22/2022 – 1/25/2025

Life can be brutal in unwarranted, unfair ways. Precious lives in need of protection can find themselves quite literally out in the cold, or in this case…the sweltering heat of Florida. Lunita knew the harsh realities of life from kittenhood, subjected to a life on the streets. She was tiny, fragile, and a consistent target for bully cats and wildlife. We dread to think of it, but we’re sure every day was a struggle for this tiny, timid girl.

Life can be brutal, but it can also be so beautiful. A very wonderful soul came across Lunita. She noticed her plight and took her under her wing with the intent of giving her a forever home. Despite that not being possible when her feline leukemia test came back positive, this kind woman didn’t stop there. She searched far and wide for a chance, a glimmer of hope, that this precious cat could know the comfort of a home and never again have to return to the streets.

She stumbled across us. Initially, our census was full. We tried to give her resources, but no one could take her. As a last-ditch effort, she offered to fly from Florida to Texas to hand deliver Lunita herself. Deeply moved by her devotion, we couldn’t say no. So, Lunita boarded a plane with the woman who saved her life, and to Shadow Cats they came. It was a tearful drop-off, but she knew Lunita would be in good hands.

She couldn’t have possibly known how right she was! Lunita has always been a little more timid around people, but she blossomed for her housemates in Cookie’s Annex. Bo joined the ranks of that room around the same time as Lunita, and they immediately took to each other. Bo (in his much more fit days, before he started testing the integrity of our cat trees) would sprawl out, and Lunita would mimic him. She’d inch her way closer to him. And if Bo walked off, Lunita would be bounding behind him not unlike a lovestruck Pepe Le Pew. Bo was a little clueless, so he didn’t often return her affections, but that did nothing to stop Lunita from trying.

It was comical, honestly, to see her in a flirtatious mood. She’d roll around Bo, on top of him, beside him, and he would stoically remain in place. She also became fast friends with Bebe, though Bebe seemed to be the enthused one of the two in this circumstance. Lunita remained wary of people for a while, but we could watch happily through the Annex’s windowed door and know that Lunita was living her best life.

There was even some relationship drama brewing in Annex, usually reserved for Harmony of all rooms. Orca came to Shadow Cats, and Lunita was immediately smitten. Can you tell that she had a type? If you were loving on Orca, Lunita would soon follow. Something about his energy made her yearn for human connection in a way that was so funny to see. You’d be petting Orca and here Lunita would come, rubbing her tiny little face on your knuckles despite refusing you at every other turn. But she still held Bo first in her heart, and more than once we came across scandalous telenovela-esque scenes of Lunita and Bo cuddling with Orca looking mournfully upon them, as though he were the picture of fidelity. Spoiler alert: he’s not.

But Bo, our sweet blind boy, had to end their little entanglement sooner than any of us hoped. He passed on, and we honestly weren’t sure how sweet Lunita would cope with his loss. She carried on, but it wasn’t too long before she started having medical issues of her own. She had a seizure one day, and after a second episode, we realized we were going to have to figure out how to treat this little spitfire. Lunita was a cat we handled sparingly, if at all, due to her temperament with people.

Even so, she made exceptions. Caitlin, one of our technicians, formed a very sweet bond with Lunita. She still had her spicy streak, but she would let Caitlin do surprising things like pet her freely, and even rub her belly, that the rest of us couldn’t really fathom. Caitlin took the time to take Lunita under her wing, a continuation of the love felt by the woman who saved her, and Lunita recognized that. She chose her person. We were hopeful that with the strides Caitlin made with her, treatment was possible. We even used her tendency to come out when Orca was getting attention to our advantage.

We tried valiantly for months to medicate her, but it came to a point where we realized that for her safety, we had to stop. She didn’t have any seizures that we were aware of for some time, and she lived life normally and to the fullest. Though still wary of most people, she went back to asking for attention during the usual times. She even, toward the end, allowed a few special exceptions. Maybe, in the end, Lunita finally realized she was at home. She’d ask for attention from volunteers, she’d play with toys when they came out, and she let staff who were convinced that they’d never be able to pet her do just that.

Lunita, through over a year of hard work and dedication in dismantling her protective walls brick by brick, was home. Sometimes it takes a day, sometimes it takes a year, but there is nothing more beautiful than when a cat finally realizes they’ve made it. Lunita, a cat who was subjected to cruelty and fear on the streets, knew the warmth of a sunbeam while sprawled out on a shelf. She knew love, from both people and other cats. She knew fun, she knew excitement, she knew that she never had to worry about missing a meal ever again. Finally, Lunita blossomed, and she did so beautifully.

We were shocked to come in one morning and find Lunita unsteady on her feet. We thought maybe her seizure disorder had progressed and fretted over the tough call rolling in from the horizon line. We were even more shocked when we got the results of her bloodwork back. Her body was failing from a mass that we never anticipated would be there. We knew we had to let her go, and our hearts broke to do it.

Held in the arms of those who loved her, who could finally freely touch her petite little toe beans and admire just how soft her beautiful fur was, Lunita passed on. Our time with our felvies never lasts as long as we wish it could. But it’s our finite existence that brings impact. It’s our ending that emphasizes our existence. It’s living, despite the finality of breathing, that makes life beautiful. That for that breath, for that moment, the blink of an eye to the cosmos but a lifetime to us, we were together. We mattered, together. Lunita mattered here, to us, to you. That such a tiny life could warm the hearts of others without even intending to, that she could move us to tears in her absence, is a blessing that feels like a curse at that moment.

But that doesn’t make it less of a blessing. And we were blessed to have known this timid yet spicy little spitfire, this flirtatious little cat who had enough love in her heart to spare despite all the trials and tribulations she’d known in her short life. Lunita was here, she was with us, and though her time with us was short, she mattered.

Now, Lunita approaches the rainbow bridge. She approaches the precipice of forever where there is no sickness, there is no hardship, there is no fear. She can look out into the distance with those wide eyes, upon a glade of endless and eternal possibility. A familiar pair of eyes look back at her from across the rainbow bridge, patiently waiting just for her—once blind, now they can see. Our sweet Bo, our gentle giant, sees our Lunita for the first time, and what a sight her free soul must be.

Thank you to Lunita’s sponsors, Susan K and B. G. Thank you to the volunteers who waited patiently for her to come out of her shell and loved her regardless. Thank you to the staff who tried, sometimes tearfully, to treat Lunita through a difficult time. Thank you for your tenderness, your resilience, your caring, and your endless patience. Thank you to everyone who saw this silly, crazy girl and thought she was just the coolest cat, quirks included.

Lunita, we love you. And we always will.

Lunita had 2 Sponsors

Susan Kaiwi

B Galipp

In Memory of Pawl     01/6/2021 – 12/21/2024

At each intersection of life, there are branching paths we can take. At every fork, every curling bend, a choice to make. We can choose betterment, we can choose to succumb, we can choose to rise above or fall below. No path is labeled for us as ‘correct’, there are only the choices we make.

Some cats are dealt a bad hand—medical issues, abandonment, abuse, and beyond. Pawl was dealt a physically bad hand, and at every intersection of life, he could have retreated within himself. He could have shied away from human touch, from the infinite joys of life, and be overcome with fear. Nobody would have blamed him for that, I think, after all that he went through.

Only, that is simply not the kind of cat Pawl was. Despite Pawl’s plethora of issues—relating to the GI, a neurogenic bladder from a tail-pull injury that required manual bladder expressions, and a history of FIP—Pawl chose the path of love, every time.

We know that Pawl’s journey started in Louisiana. He was rescued by APA, who handled his immense medical needs and got him through his first FIP treatment. He was even fostered and immensely loved, but it was known that Pawl needed something permanent: he needed a home. Options for homes are limited for our felvies, this we know well enough by now. But thankfully, Shadow Cats had room, and we welcomed Pawl home with open arms in October of 2023.

We expected him to perk up after his time in isolation. All cats need time to decompress and take in their surroundings. But Pawl was not perking up. He had severe diarrhea, and his bladder was incredibly difficult to express. Many long drives were taken to get Pawl to and from the vet. Many tears were shed as we did our best to keep him clean, happy, and healthy, with extra difficulty with his incontinence and simultaneous inability to urinate.

Through it all, Pawl was kind, loving, and gentle. He was the kind of cat that would see you crying and crawl into your lap. Would he smear you with a trail of poo as he did? Yes, absolutely, but that’s beside the point. As stinky and subdued as he was when he first got here, he captured everyone’s hearts immediately. We knew we had to do everything we could for this angel. After discussing symptoms and lab work with the incredible FIP Warriors, we realized the unfortunate truth: Pawl likely had FIP yet again.

So, he underwent treatment. Thankfully, this time he perked up…and he made it to Cookie’s Place! Cookie’s was a wonder to our dear Pawl. Sporting a fashionable diaper, he trotted the length of the room. Sometimes, he would even tear up the rug in a run and his little tail would flop about in the funniest way. Pawl was endlessly sweet, incredibly gentle, supremely playful and he never, ever ceased to make us laugh.

We knew from APA that Pawl adored kittens, and what a blessing that two found their way to Shadow Cats in December of 2023. Pawl immediately took to them. We loved to call him ‘Uncle Pawl’ when it came to kittens. He wasn’t the responsible parent that Pixie and Bob were, he was like the crazy uncle that took you out in his Oldsmobile to do doughnuts in a parking lot. With Purrsephone and Penelope, Pawl played. He wrestled. He cuddled. He mostly ran zoomies back and forth with them down the lengths of Cookie’s Place, diaper and all. What a beautiful thing, to see this adult cat acting like he’d never aged a day…just a big kitten, living life to the fullest in ways nobody could’ve conceptualized.

Pawl even got to ditch the diaper, eventually. While this meant we really had to watch our step, it also meant Pawl could run free without hindrance, though the designs on him were always so cute. And if you ever stepped on a Pawl Special, a little hershey’s kiss gifted from the sweetest lil angel, how could you be mad? You just say, “Oh, Pawl” give him a knowing sitcom smile, and wipe off the damage done.

He really melted our hearts. When carrying him to the work room for expressions, or to the exam room for a blood draw, Pawl loved to hug you. He’d nibble on your ear, eat your hair, and just generally rub his face all over you in a way that could warm the cockles of even the coldest heart. He trained us well to use churu as a distraction, and Pawl gained a generous amount of belly because of it…but who could turn down that cute little face? A tiny little head, the daintiest little paws, the silliest floppy tail. Everything about Pawl was designed by the Gods to ensnare your heart! He was precious in every single way.

Eventually, after the passing of his beloved kitten friends, we moved Pawl to Cookie’s Annex. This is where he discovered the magic of television. He would stand on the shelf nearest the TV, absolutely enraptured by fluttering hummingbird wings and chirps. What was so special about Pawl was that despite EVERYTHING, despite constant medical issues due to his fragile immune system, spinal damage, and beyond. Despite coming up with a new and strange medical diagnosis just to stump and confuse us, Pawl never lost his spirit.

Every day, Pawl would walk around as though the wonders of the world were at his paw pads rather than in the greater reaches of the world. Every turning leaf, every fluttering wing flap, every utterance of birdsong, every change of season, every echoed laugh, every gentle pet, every belly rub and forehead kiss, every pounce and sprint, every stretching sunbeam or secret treat…all of it was special. Pawl had a curiosity, a sweet spirit, a youthfulness that never left him. He had hard days, he had pains, he had dislikes…but somehow, always expressed in the gentlest way.

If only a youthful outlook was enough to persist forever, Pawl would have been carried into eternity. But Pawl had one problem, of all his problems, that we did not know about—a silent killer, HCM (hypertrophic cardiomyopathy). He had medical procedures before, never with issues. But our sweet angel, our precious boy, and sweetest of cats, did not make it through the recovery of his most recent procedure. With HCM, there are no heart murmurs. There are no obvious signs, and when it triggers, it is often for the first…and last time.

Pawl’s passing was a shock to us all. In it’s finality, we ached to hold him again. We yearned for those bright eyes to look up at us once more with all the breadth and warmth of their curiosity and shining spirit. But Pawl is not defined by his abrupt passing, none of us are. Pawl is defined by the way he lit up a room. He is defined by the laughter he inspired, and the love he instilled. He is defined by the choice he made, every day, to be love incarnate, to love despite hardship, to trust despite pain. Pawl is defined by the character all of us will carry in our hearts, by the stories we’ll tell, and by the way his legacy will be carried fondly, warmly, endlessly.

Pawl will never again have to know pain or struggle. Now, the same pawprints impressed upon our hearts press into the dewy grass of an endless glade. At the first step of the rainbow bridge, our Purrsephone and Penelope wait for him. Together, they guide him across in a full sprint, to the eternal earth where they can run forever, Pawl’s tail flopping about just as it had in our very own Cookie’s Place.

Thank you to our amazing volunteers who ensured that Pawl’s time was filled with love. Thank you to our incredible staff, who nursed Pawl back to health a countless number of times and did it with smiles on their faces, who loved him so deeply that we’ll never forget. Thank you to his incredible sponsors, Allie W, Brittney G, Sarah S, Sheri B, and Amy J, who kept Pawl close to their hearts. Thank you to Vista Vet for his incredible care. Thank you to anyone who looked at that little tuft of white hair on Pawl’s chest and thought it was just the cutest thing.

On our last car ride together, I reflected on all the ways we loved Pawl, and found they were innumerable. Suffice it to say, we love you, Pawl. And we always will.

Pawl had 5 Sponsors

Allison Wassel

Brittney Gonzalez

Sarah Sammon

Sheri Biggs

Amy Juried

In Memory of Hampton     06/15/2019 – 12/18/2024

Hampton’s story had a familiar start, one we’re sure you’ve heard from us before. She was found within a colony of cats in Dallas. In the process of TNRing the colony, Hampton tested positive for feline leukemia. Even currently, a feline leukemia diagnosis is riddled with stigma and a preconceived notion of what their life will look like. Thankfully, her rescuers knew that Hampton still had a chance at life and that her current circumstances were only the beginning of the journey…not its final punctuation.

So, through some friends of Shadow Cats, Hampton’s trek to the sanctuary began! She found herself in Cookie’s Place among friends in 2021 and settled in as though she’d always sat upon its highest cat tower. Perhaps this could be attributed to Hampton’s self-assured nature. She had this aura about her, one that demanded respect, inspired awe, and wouldn’t settle for anything else from the subjects of her surveyed Kingdom. Sometimes, its subjects just needed a swat across the forehead…and who’s fault could that have been!? Certainly not Hampton’s!

Even though Hampton could be a bit scrappy with the other cats, one thing was certain: she adored people. Nothing made her happier than someone being near her. She often snuggled in a fluffy little crescent on the topmost beam of a cat tree, but for the right person, she’d descend her throne to climb on your back. She loved to parrot, and as the assistants cleaned in Cookie’s Place, it wasn’t unusual for her to work out the kinks in their back as they cleaned the cat trees. Hampton was nothing if not benevolent!

This, of course, was especially true if you were a man. Nothing made her quite perk up like a masculine voice. With her freckled little nose, almost feeling akin to Marilyn Monroe’s beauty mark and her general stride…Hampton unfurled and stretched flirtatiously to male passersby. She was quite chirpy, and if the object of her affections wasn’t looking only at her, like a sunflower craning its neck to look at the sun, she would voice her complaints loudly and plentifully. She knew what she was about and she’d settle at nothing to get it.

Despite her feminine wiles, Hampton was often mistaken for a boy due to her name. We don’t see how, though! She held the most beautiful feminine energy, every gaze a soft one, every touch of her paw given with guiding strength. Usually guiding your hand back to her head, but still! She was a beauty, and her playful, confident energy a beam of light. To be in Hampton’s presence was to walk beneath a canopy of trees and feel the sunbeams filter through the leaves to warm you. Hampton knew who she was, her dislikes strong but her likes stronger, and to be on the receiving end of her boundless love was a privilege to boast of.

Over the years, we have lost so many to feline leukemia. It rewrites a cat’s very genome, imprinting upon them a fate that will activate at a time unknown to us. We know this fact, but still…sometimes a cat’s presence is so firm that we take it for granted in assuming they’ll always be there. Hampton was like that. She was always “healthy”. So many sickly cats came and went as Hampton snoozed atop her favorite cat tree day after day. She never had a complaintive meow that wasn’t around a perceived lack of attention. We thought she would always be with us.

But we were wrong.

All the while, within her tiny chest, cancer brewed. It wasn’t until the last few days that she appeared especially off. Being the smart girl that she was, she made sure to sprawl out on the rug in front of staff, as if to direct attention to herself and let us know exactly what was going on. The staff, so sensitive to this issue after dealing with it within so many felvies, just knew.

She was taken to the vet and had an ultrasound, revealing fluid in her chest, very likely stemming from cancer. Shattered is an understatement when faced with the reality of our feelings. But for Hampton, we had the power to ensure her passing would be peaceful…and surrounded by an endless outpouring of love. So, everyone reached out to pet dear Hampton. She made biscuits and purred right up until the moment she passed.

Hampton knew love. She knew softness, she knew warmth, she knew the comfort of a fluffy bed and the illuminating light of a sunset sunbeam. She had a favorite spot, favorite people, and a food bowl that always mysteriously refilled itself. And maybe most of all, a sense of self. Hampton was who she was, and there was no bending that. Most people don’t even reach that level of enlightenment, but we feel in our bones that Hampton did.

Now, Hampton reclines on the tallest of trees, in the fluffiest of beds across the way from the rainbow bridge. With old friends to greet her, Hampton said hello and showed herself the way around…no guidance needed, as was her way. From her tallest of perches, she can watch the rabbits bound through the tall grass, and watch an endless number of sunsets without even the notion of pain ever touching her again.

Thank you to the incredible volunteers who satisfied Hampton’s ever-present need for a good pet. Thank you to the incredible staff who always had a back ready and waiting to be climbed upon, for loving her endlessly, until the very end and well beyond. Thank you to Hampton’s sponsors, Anne K, Susan R, and Yvonne T for supporting her cushy little life at Shadow Cats. Thank you to Vista Vet for her exemplary medical care, and to anyone who was ever hypnotized by those beautiful green eyes.

Hampton, even in light of your passing, you could never know the sheer number of tears shed and of laughter that rung out in your honor. We will never forget you, and we will always love you. Always.

Hampton had 3 Sponsors

Anne Llana Koob

Susan Richard

Yvonne Trevino

In Memory of Ferris     10/24/2021 – 12/14/2024

Ferris was named hopefully. The intent was to instill this tiny, sickly little kitten with strength—with iron. A manifestation that a kitten without a chance, found beneath a trailer in a hoarding situation he didn’t deserve to succumb to, would grow the metallic support beams he needed to be more than his circumstances.

And boy, did he ever.

Ferris came to us in January of 2022 from Kansas. Strapped into a carrier, he looked through its holes and watched the landscape pass by like a smear of paint on canvas. The amazement of sprawling, gently rolling hills, endless fields, and dappled sunset couldn’t possibly compare to the adventure he was embarking on and didn’t even know it. His feline leukemia status wouldn’t act as the blockade to a good life that it had for so many others—all he had before him was the open road.

For us, there is always an anticipatory kind of grief that bubbles in your throat when you first meet a kitten with feline leukemia. It was no different for us, then. But Ferris, in the way only a kitten can, disarmed us with his immediately playful and sweet nature. Somehow, these cats that may not have a tomorrow show us the importance of living for today. Though their time may be measured, we’d make sure every moment counted.

So Ferris lived for today, every day. When he made it to Cookie’s, all that boundless kitten energy was put to good work. He had many other kitten friends to play with, and as he got a little older, he even ran a gang of midnight mischief makers. Ferris, Newt, and Holmes would prowl the length of Cookie’s Place with shoulders shifting in panther-like strides, tails flicking in smooth warning waves for anyone who dared to challenge the ruffians. Occasionally, we’d have to put one in timeout for bad behavior and if Ferris wasn’t the one behind the metaphorical bars, he’d be the one outside exercising his right to protest.

But we all knew the tough guy exterior was an act. Ferris was a secret softie, and when he wasn’t walking up and down the catwalk in his figurative leather jacket, he was snuggling in the softest beds with his best friend, Newt. They both shared an affinity for cuddling in the absolute strangest positions, their paws curled in and bodies sometimes uncomfortably contorted…though they looked to be the very picture of relaxation. All that was missing was a few cucumber slices and a face mask.

When Newt suddenly passed away due to a blood clot, Ferris camped outside of the condo he had been sleeping in for two days. With his paws curled, and a peaceful expression on his face, Ferris patiently waited. But Newt didn’t get to come back home, and we wondered how our sweet chunky-cheeked tabby would fare after the loss. His scrappy spirit kept him going, but we could tell he missed his friend.

We grappled with some medical issues in Ferris after that, a history of inappropriate urination, a tendency to scrap, and those resilient chubby cheeks that usually meant you had come across an intact male. But Ferris had been neutered and had both testicles removed some time ago. We had done bloodwork, testosterone testing. Eventually, we did an ultrasound and found that on top of having both testicles removed…Ferris had a third in his abdomen that never dropped!

Finally, we had solved the mystery of Ferris’ adorably chubby cheeks. But the road ahead was still a long one. It took multiple surgeries to remove the offending testicle, as it had buried itself in a highly vascular pad of fat. We had to have a board-certified surgeon perform the surgery! We hoped, after the surgery, that our Ferris would have a decent recovery, and that his stress levels would be significantly reduced without that primal urge to scrap and claim territory.

Things improved tremendously for our boy, but they still weren’t perfect. That’s when we had an idea. Maybe it was time we moved our resident scrapper to a more quiet, subdued room. To Cookie’s Annex Ferris went! Over time, as his testosterone levels continued to dwindle, Ferris settled into a quiet life in that room. He still had plenty of energy to burn off playing, but his new favorite pastime melded to that of the others in the room. Ferris wanted uppies.

Walking into Cookie’s Annex is always the funniest thing. All these ex-street cats, allegedly tough and chunky, lining up for their chance to be held like a baby, and Ferris was no exception. He would stretch out on your leg, chattering his need, and would snuggle so sweetly into your arms when you lifted him. Who’d have thought our scrappy street cat would melt into one of the biggest lovebugs in the sanctuary? We were thrilled.

Ferris hung up his fingerless gloves for another kind of gang entirely—the kind that were more likely to bully you with love than with claws. Scotty, Ferris, Orca, Marshall, and Morris had all decided they liked forehead kisses more than fighting, and we were happy to supply an endless amount. He spent his days in cuddle piles, sunbathing in his quirky little positions, watching TV, laying in a lap, and spending an inordinate amount of time at the food bowl. He was the chirpiest little guy, and even ran our socials for a day, wearing our kitty cam like a real champ! And in that footage…the first thing he does is run to you when he hears your voice.

Ferris melted our hearts, every day. A mere hour before we had to let him go, he was held like a baby, his absolute favorite thing in the world. But as we always say with our felvies, they are healthy until the day they aren’t. And Ferris was healthy, happy, and loved…until his felv suddenly triggered and filled his body with fluid. There was no cure that could be given, no medication to improve his chances. There was only a final gift we could give Ferris, the gift of a gentle passing in the arms of those who loved him most. He was held like a baby, given all the forehead kisses he could tolerate, and he made biscuits even at the very end of his life…because that’s just how full of love and joy he was.

Ferris passed on knowing the ultimate love, and the ultimate sacrifice that comes with it: an end to something there is never enough time for. Still, Ferris made us laugh every day. He snuggled and slept and played, he chirped, he was mischievous and he was sweet. Ferris didn’t know that the timer had been set, but every day was precious and well spent.

And though our hearts ache to lose him, we know the truth: Ferris has just as much love waiting for him in the endless glade above, across the bow of the rainbow-stepped bridge. Newt waits to guide him over its threshold, to show him a place where there is no pain. Where there are mountains of soft, fluffy beds, all waiting for sweet little tabby cats to lay upon them, toes curled and all.

Thank you to the volunteers who loved Ferris, who endlessly played with him, who smiled at his antics. Thank you to the incredible staff who showed this tiny kitten there was more to life than fear. Thank you to the amazing team of veterinarians who cared for him. Thank you to his lovely sponsors, Ashton S and Bryan B.

Ferris more than lived up to the name he was given: strong, resilient, he’d found his support from within himself. He showed us the importance of living in the moment, with your paws to the ground, rooted in the reality of how beautiful life can be despite all the odds stacked against us. As we looked up at the evening sky the night of his passing, the clouds cleared. The moon hung in a clear sky, its glow unobscured by the grays of the world. And we have him to thank for that.

We love you, Ferris. We always will.

Ferris had 2 Sponsors

Ashton Skinner

Bryant Barager

In Memory of Pixie     3/3/2019 – 12/13/2024

Every cat is special and has their charm. Some are a little prickly, some are silly and a little endearingly hairbrained. But every now and then, you meet a cat that truly embodies what it means to love—a personality so pure and sparkling you could compare it to the soft glow of string lights on snow. Pixie was one such cat, and this is her story, a dedication that pales in comparison to the love she sowed and nurtured within everyone around her every day.

In May of 2022, wandering the streets of Victoria, Texas, a cat so cute and tiny that she could be mistaken for a kitten was picked up by Animal Control. She was quickly taken in by a rescue, but her happy ending with potential adoption was cut short when she received her feline leukemia diagnosis. They reached out to many people in hopes of finding a better outcome for this sweet angel than the one that awaited her, and blessedly, we had room!

So, to Shadow Cats Pixie came. Looking back now, it’s always interesting to us how little we know at the time of their arrival. We don’t know what kind of cat they will be, or what sort of impact they will have on us or the other cats. When we looked at Pixie’s cute, round face and earthen tones—soft green eyes, an even softer tabby coat—there is no way we could’ve possibly known just how deeply she would affect Shadow Cats as a whole.

She fit right in. For some cats, Cookie’s Place can be…a lot! Many of our younger felvies live there, so there is no shortage of zoomies, rambunctious playtime, climbing and occasionally napping. Pixie was unbothered by the rapid back and forth. And in fact, over time, we learned that Pixie had quite the maternal instinct. She had become sweet on a kitty named Jeremy, and they co-parented the sweet, tiny felvies as they filtered into Cookie’s Place.

Unfortunately, Jeremy became very sick and though he fought it for a time, we had to make the difficult decision to let him go. We wondered how Pixie and all the kittens would react, whether or not they’d recover after such a heavy loss. That’s when Bob stepped up and filled in the fatherly role. Soon enough, Pixie & Bob were known as the Mom and Dad of Cookie’s Place.

Every kitten that stepped into Cookie’s Place knew their brand of nurturing and love. They were taught proper manners, of course, but always soothed with a lick or a cuddle. So many young cats have come and gone in Cookie’s Place due to the nature of the virus and their fragile, tiny bodies. But there is something so comforting in knowing that every single one of those baby angels, who at one time only knew a life on the streets, constant threats, and hunger, came to Shadow Cats and knew the love, consistency, and comfort of a family.

But Pixie was her own cat outside of the love she gave to others. We knew her as always loving a lap to snuggle on and a good chin scritch. She never knew a cat bed she didn’t like! Everyone was always shocked by her age because she was so, so tiny, with stumpy cute little legs and the fluffiest of tails. She looked like an eternal kitten despite her mature, motherly energy! But Pixie had a playful side to her, too.

We had never, ever seen Pixie use the cat wheel so famously loved as both a mini-gym and an impromptu bed despite the plentiful amount of actual beds lying around. But for some strange reason, when the first of this year rolled around, Pixie hopped on the cat wheel! She spent a good time running daily and had an impressive streak, but the timing was so odd…we joked that she’d had a New Year’s Resolution! It was the funniest, arguably most domestic thing we’ve seen one of our kitties do. When we look at the cat wheel, we’ll think of Pixie…and how she, too, abandoned her New Year’s Resolutions halfway through the year!

Pixie brought so much love and warmth to Cookie’s Place. She never knew a stranger, and regardless of whether it was the first or the fiftieth time you entered her room, she’d stand to greet you for a little love and attention. Unfortunately, a reality we know all too well, is that the clock tends to always be ticking with these felvies. Our Pixie had developed some chronic gastrointestinal issues, and after a suspicious ultrasound and a lot of monitoring, it turned out that our sweet girl had a common and lethal affliction: GI lymphoma.

We kept her as comfortable as possible and spoiled her always, but she eventually developed a palpable mass in her abdomen. Our bright beacon of sweetness in Cookie’s Place dimmed and grew tired. We loved her even still, and our hearts would melt when she would still stand up to greet us. We knew she’d hold on for us forever, and for all the sweet babies she’d nurtured that grew up around her. So, we knew we had to let her go for her own sake.

Surrounded by love, by a deep, penetrative sadness, Ebi and Nori (who Pixie had raised in the absence of their parents as kittens) circled Pixie as she lay in her bed at the center of Cookie’s Place. Bob watched from a distance, the staff circled around her, giving her treats and pets and all the love we could pack into a scritch of the chin and a stroke along her back, our beloved Pixie left us. It rained a lot the day she passed—it almost felt like the universe itself was grieving with us.

Though our hearts are broken, though we’ll miss seeing those cute little stumpy legs stretch as she rises to greet us, we know that Pixie isn’t in pain. We know that there are so many tiny kittens waiting, playing at the first step of the rainbow bridge to guide the closest they ever had to a mother across. Eternally, Pixie will have all the tiny kittens to cuddle, to mother, and we will feel her presence forevermore in that room, guiding our rambunctious and free into their adulthood, or waiting to guide them across the rainbow bridge when it’s their own time.

To the amazing staff who loved Pixie through her best times and all her medical difficulties, we thank you. We thank the amazing volunteers who always had a lap available for our most special girl. We thank Vista Vet for her incredible continued care, and we thank the sponsors, Christina Z and Anne F, who always had Pixie on their minds. To anyone who ever looked at this sweet girl and thought it was the cutest thing that she still looked like a kitten, we thank you.

For all your love, for your endless kitty smiles and cuddles, for your nurturing calm, and your playful pluck, we thank you, Pixie. We love you, and we always will.

Pixie had 2 Sponsors

Christina Zimmer

Anne Fajkus

In Memory of Lilly     2/14/2019 – 11/24/2024

In February of 2022, Lilly watched the Oklahoma plains bleed into Texan topography from her transporter’s car window. Despite their best efforts to find this angel a home, nobody saw her sweet, dreamy eyes and cute little pink lips and thought, “I have to have her.” Except, of course, us. Our sweet Lilly had a feline leukemia diagnosis but still had a life to live, and we promised we’d give it to her as she rode home.

When she first made her way to Cookie’s Place, Lilly had boundless energy! She seemed to have a perpetual case of the zoomies. We wondered when, if ever, she’d stop to take a break. Thankfully, one of our volunteers Jeni spent time with Lilly. With time, patience, and an incredible amount of love, Lilly finally learned how to settle into a lap. She quickly found out it was one of her favorite things, and in her nearly three years at Shadow Cats, she became a professional cuddler.

When you walk into Cookie’s, there is usually a swarm of cats waiting to claim your lap. Some tend to hang in the back waiting for a turn, and others are practically at the chair before you even reach it. Lilly was definitely the latter. There was nothing she loved more than cuddling. And even though she didn’t seek out cuddle buddies in other cats, if one laid next to her, she never turned them away or left.

Lilly was gentle, with the softest presence, the softest coat, and the sweetest eyes. She wasn’t outspoken or bombastic, she wasn’t exaggerated or spunky. Lilly was a presence you took note of softly. If you were chilly on a cold winter’s morning, Lilly was the sun breaking through the dreary clouds to warm your fingertips. Lilly didn’t demand, she simply was…and she was just happy to ‘be’, to exist, right next to you.

Lilly played. She cuddled. She stretched out gloriously on Cookie’s Place’s catio, basking in the finest sunbeams that somehow just felt like an extension of her. It’s a wonder she wasn’t more full of herself, being as gorgeous as she was. She was splendidly fluffy, with long eyelashes and an ‘eyeliner’ look accentuating her beautiful green eyes, more yellow tinged than blue. She was a marvel to watch. We always admired her beautiful, fluffy tail, and the white tufts of hair, cresting at her face but extending down the expanse of her chest. She just had this majestic, gentle kind of beauty. Lilly didn’t need to boast, because her existence was boastful enough.

Lilly was one of those cats that gives you the sense that they’ll always be there—as reliable as she was sweet. Unfortunately, Lilly had something brewing within her that gave us no symptoms, no telltale signs, and no warning. She had been scheduled for a dental and did beautifully under anesthesia. She was in recovery, and despite constant monitoring and vet visits during her recovery period, our sweet angel could not pull through this time. Through all that peaceful calm, lap warming, playtime, and sunbathing, Lilly very likely had a heart condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy that caused a thickening of her heart. It was the makings of a tragic storm, causing her to throw a clot. She was rushed to the vet and passed in the arms of the people who loved and cared for her every day, knowing their endless love until her very last breath.

We are shattered at the loss of this precious angel. Though Lilly was quieter, her personality, her presence, and her warmth were all-encompassing. We already miss her terribly and wish that just once more, we could sit out on Cookie’s catio with sweet Lilly curled up on a leg. But I think it’s easy to get caught up in a story’s end, to marinate in the tragedy and forgo the breadth of warmth and wonder that existed before the final page was ever written.

Lilly left us unexpectedly, as our special felvies almost always do. But a sudden end does not forsake every time her tail swished happily when you walked into a room. It doesn’t make every soft glance, every afternoon spent curled up in a soft bed, any less meaningful. A garden wilting in wintertime does not erase the existence of a fruitful spring. And though Lilly is no longer with us, she was, once. She earned as much love as she gave. She lived her life to the fullest, and she knew true love. Lilly’s life could’ve been short, cold, and lonely, but she was destined for so much more than that.

Now, Lilly begins another journey. She steps across the rainbow bridge to join so many other precious animals, so incredibly loved in their lifetime. She enters a place where feline leukemia doesn’t exist, where hearts don’t stop, where pain is foreign. She enters a place where there are endless soft beds, stretching sunbeams, and all the rabbits she could ever hope to watch from beneath them.

Thank you to the volunteers who always kept Lilly happy with a lap to spare and a brush to stroke her with. Thank you to the incredible, loving staff who cared for Lilly until her very last breath. Thank you for the amazing medical care provided by Vista Vet. Thank you to her sponsors, Jason R and Jeni J. Thank you Aubrey G. for seeing through the little waif she was in the Oklahoma shelter and recognizing her value and Sherry FC. for getting her to us in Texas. Thank you to anyone who ever stopped to look at this precious girl and thought to themselves, “What dreamy eyes.”

We love you, Lilly. We always will.

Lilly had 2 Sponsors

Jason Rubero

Jeni Johnson

In Memory of Pebbles     10/15/2006 – 10/27/2024

The start of Pebbles’ life was less than glamorous. Born to a community kitty, life outside can be uncertain. Food sources can be scarce, predators can loom with dangers around every corner. It seems a less than ideal environment to raise a tiny kitten, but lucky for Pebbles, she and her brother Avery made their way to Shadow Cats in 2006.

2006, can you believe it? Pebbles has been around for over half the lifespan of Shadow Cats! Some of our longstanding volunteers remember the days of her at the old sanctuary. Despite being a little shy, she loved her treats even then, and one of our volunteers, Geri, always made sure to give her a friendly scritch to remind her that human interaction didn’t have to be so scary.

While Pebbles was never much of a people’s cat, she certainly was a cat’s cat! For many years, Pebbles and her friend Tabby were inseparable. It was always a special sight to see, she and Tabby snuggled up into each other like they were warmth-seeking kittens all over again. Eventually, our sweet Violet joined the mix. The three of them would be snuggled up, a watchful eye on the folks coming in and out of Wildside. Heidi would even sometimes join the mix, like they were recording their own feline-friendly version of The Golden Girls.

Unfortunately, Tabby was let go after a neurologic episode our veterinarian was certain was caused by a brain tumor. We weren’t sure how timid Pebbles would recover. Thankfully, eventually, Violet and Pebbles became even closer. When they weren’t snuggled up in a soft bed together, they’d occasionally be spotted sunbathing out on the catio, watching the bunnies hop by together. But we encountered another roadblock in Pebbles’ quality of life.

Pebbles was diagnosed with kidney disease in a progressive stage. The standard treatment is regular fluid therapy, but we weren’t sure the shy old girl would tolerate it. Pebbles surprised us all when we got into a routine with her. She didn’t LOVE the poke, don’t get me wrong, but most days she’d let us do what we needed to do for her without issue. We’d give her the comfort of a blanket to snuggle in and under, and she’d stay still. Honestly, I think it got her a bit more used to being handled.

Which really worked out well for us, because my goodness, this old girl was then diagnosed with airway disease! How in the world were we going to successfully give this girl inhaler treatment!? While she initially despised this treatment even more, eventually…she must have known somewhere in her heart that we were helping her be more comfortable. It was then, I think, that Pebbles branched out a bit more with the staff.

She always loved treats, and even in her old age, when you shook that Temptations box…she’d perk up immediately! You’d even hear a rare meow from her. In the last few months, before her appetite soured, we’d often go into Wildside when we had a little extra wet food left over just to spoil Pebbles. Very often, she would easily gobble up a second plate! It was so precious to watch, mostly due to the fact that she was an incredibly messy eater.

We spotted so many cute moments with this girl, one of them caught on camera by one of our technicians, Gaby. Our shy, reserved Pebbles…rubbing her face on a catnip banana out on the catio! It warmed all of our hearts, knowing this sweet old lady was living her best life. Pebbles had 18 long years, 18 years of never wondering when her next meal would be. 18 years of catio sunbathing. 18 years of cuddling with her best friends. 18 years of being admired like a unicorn in the wild when our shy girl did something special. Pebbles may not have realized it, but she was a testament to how good life at the sanctuary can be. We gave Pebbles our everything.

Unfortunately, time caught up with our dear Pebbles. She was struggling medically, even with treatment, and her friend Violet spent her time cuddling with her out of concern. A rare meow heard from her, asking what was happening to her friend. We knew that our sweet old lady’s time was at an end. Pebbles was held in loving arms. She was purring so loudly, a sound we’d not heard from her before, as we lovingly pet her, and Wildside’s hardest napper slipped into eternal, peaceful sleep. Our girl was ready.

It’s hard, saying goodbye. Even when you know they’ve lived a long, happy life, it’s hard. Pebbles may not have been the snuggliest cat, but that didn’t make her any less special. Pebbles reminds us that no matter how badly we want to pick up and cuddle a precious cat, to love the one that’s in front of us for exactly who she is. And that, we did.

We’re comforted knowing that as Pebbles enters the endless glade where so many precious animals are finally free of pain, her best friend Tabby waits to guide her across the bridge. She can usher her to the finest, lushest cat bed, where the two of them can snuggle once again and swap the best of their gossip. Pebbles, old girl, you’re at peace. Take a deep breath, free of disease, and walk in a body that no longer hurts. With you, you took more love than you ever could’ve realized. And isn’t that all any of us could ask for?

Thank you to the wonderful volunteers who spent so much time with Pebbles, who watched over her through every shade and stage of her life. Thank you to the incredible staff that openly and warmly treated Pebbles, and always made sure to save an extra plate of wet food just for our old girl. Thank you to Pebbles’ sponsors, Dori N, Rebecca K, Alissa C, and Nancy H.

We will always remember the girl who had her dinner on her face, the girl who slept harder than any cat at the sanctuary, the girl who curiously played with toys when she thought no one saw her, the girl who would always meow for a treat. We love you, Pebbles. We always will.

Pebbles has 4 Sponsors

“If Pebbles is not ready for affection then I respect that, yet I want her to know that from a distance someone is thinking of her.  And she reminds me of one of my own, Dingo, who arrived as a feral cat and stayed.  Dingo has cancer now, and I am happy to have given her a good life and wish the same for Pebbles.”
-Dori Naef

Rebecca Katzenmeyer

Alissa Cannon

Nancy Henry

In Memory of Jimmy     3/24/2009 – 10/24/2024

Sometimes, the tides of fate seem cruel. What else could one think upon seeing a senior cat surrendered to a shelter due to a freshly minted diabetes diagnosis? Perhaps the previous owner couldn’t afford insulin, or a physical ailment rendered them unable to give this sweet boy the care he so desperately needed. Whatever the reason, the fact remained—this butterfly effect surely meant the end for this sweet old boy. But fate weaves its tales even still, and its thread connected Jimmy to us through a simple email. A plea. And we answered the call.

Jimmy came to us in April of 2022, narrowly avoiding euthanasia due to his diabetes. He was a big boy of 17 pounds then, but his stature seemed so very small when compared to his heart. We quickly learned that Jimmy was an absolute angel in every way…except, maybe, when it came time for dinner. Before we had microchip feeders in Harmony, Jimmy had his own condo during feeding time because he was a bit of a bully at the dinner bowl! He was kind of like the kid in the cafeteria line that would give you a nasty look for letting your friend sneak in beside you. He waited his turn, and he expected you to feed him in the appropriate order!

He was so food motivated, in fact, that when it came time to eat, you could always expect to see Jimmy’s little concentrated stare through the window of Harmony’s door. It’s something that always brought a smile to our faces. Even if our Crinkle Fry and Bruce were having a WWE match in the background, Jimmy’s sweet little face was locked in on whatever Fancy Feast concoction the staff had made that evening. Nothing could break that laser focus.

When Jimmy wasn’t having a Lion King style duel over food, he really was the most agreeable guy there ever was. Jimmy didn’t particularly bond heavily with the other cats, but he loved people. Everyone was his person, and Jimmy never knew a stranger. A few times, we’d be having discussions in Harmony about the health of another cat. If someone became tearful, Jimmy would sidle up next to them and offer his chin for scritches. He felt purpose in people and being near them, and though we sometimes laughed about him not necessarily being the brightest of the bunch, he shined in other ways. Jimmy shined in his compassion, his warmth, and how he’d always extend a helping paw when needed.

When fluids were added to his daily regimen, we anticipated that maybe he wouldn’t appreciate the poke. But Jimmy couldn’t find a reason to complain. In fact, he grew to love his fluid time, because it meant he got to be carried down the ramp every day and eat his favorite gravy snack. He would hug you, a paw on each shoulder, and then his paws would even slide behind your neck as he settled in against your chest. You could feel his little toebeans pressing into your skin, tugging you closer in the closest any of us has gotten to a real hug with a cat. He’d pull you in as close as possible so he could rub his face on your chin and jawline. There’s nothing as incredible as witnessing him doing that for the first time. Our Jimmy was incredibly special.

When all the other cats were camera shy during 2023’s Shadow Cats on Parade, Jimmy eagerly hopped into each float as they made their way down the ramp. He wasn’t shy about posing for photos, and even adventurously attempted to make his way into Oasis. Every little thing Jimmy did just seemed to spark joy in the collective—he had this energy about him that was just brightening. On your worst day, Jimmy was the sun sweeping golden light into the dark sky. If you were feeling down, just watch him swat at his automatic butterfly toy. Or laugh as he stares at you through the catio window, waiting for you to open the door despite being well aware of how to get through the cat door. Jimmy was funny. He was kind. He was compassionate and free and unapologetically himself.

Several months ago, we got some tough news. He had been experiencing some symptoms that led us to getting an ultrasound for him. Unfortunately, the results confirmed our worst fears—cancer. We did everything we could to keep him comfortable, and our resilient and bright Jimmy lived every day to the fullest. But cancer gave way to insulin resistance. He sported a funny haircut for a while, because we spent many many weeks testing his blood glucose with libre devices. Unfortunately, no amount of finetuning his doses seemed to bring his levels in check. We knew it was his cancer, then. And we knew our time with this angel was limited.

Inspired by Jimmy’s tenacity, every day with him was lived to the fullest. Despite having cancer, Jimmy never seemed to have a single complaint about his treatments. Every ear poke for his BG checks was taken quietly, even nuzzling into your hand after the fact. When he needed to be nebulized for his congestion, he would patiently sit in the nebulizer tank with that same concentrated stare. The only complaint we could register, given in the most polite of formats, was that he hated his oral medications. But even Jimmy’s way of telling us he hated it was considerate. He simply would put his paws up, pressing down on your hand as if to say, “You don’t need to do that!” Ever the convincing and charismatic fellow, even to the end, Jimmy made us smile.

Eventually, Jimmy finally told us that even he was tired. Though he didn’t have a complaint in him, we could tell that walking was difficult. He still wanted to come to you to be held, but the trek was a wobbly one. He spent a lot of time sleeping, and it seemed like his overall health was worsening. We knew it was time. And in true Jimmy fashion, seeing us all with snotty noses and tears streaking down our cheeks, he walked the circle to check on everyone. One by one, he was passed around a circle of people who loved him on his very best and worst days, and hugged just like he liked.

Surrounded by hearts heavy with the weight of their love for him, Jimmy peacefully passed on. Jimmy touched the hearts of everyone he met and knew many different names because of it. Jimmy, Jimberly, Jimjams, James, all different ways to say one thing—I love you. Every cat is special, but I don’t think there was any way to fathom just how special Jimmy would become to us on the fateful day of his intake. In return for his forever home, Jimmy supplied us with unconditional love and endless sunshine.

Harmony will feel empty, somehow. Amidst the craziness of the room and all the strong personalities, we will miss Jimmy’s softness. His sweet stare, with those big round eyes that seemed to look up at you and say, “Good, you’re here!” as he bounded toward you. But now, Jimmy doesn’t have to be in pain. Now, Jimmy can extend his warmth to new celestial heights his broken body couldn’t permit. Now, Jimmy’s sweetness exists in a memory, in a kind word, in a gentle hand on a shoulder of one in need. We can continue Jimmy’s legacy by choosing the path of compassion.

And even though it’s hard, we can rest knowing that Jimmy waits to cross the rainbow bridge much like he waited for his dinner at Harmony’s door. Peering through the window, waiting for entry, to be guided to a place where cancer doesn’t exist, where there are endless rabbits to watch, rippling streams and greenery as far as the eye can see. Perhaps Jimmy will learn to use the cat door in the next life, or maybe he’ll know a kind enough soul who will always be there to open the door.

Thank you to our volunteers for showering Jimmy with as much love as he showered us with. Thank you to our staff for guiding Jimmy through his difficult medical journey with compassion, softness, and an endless outpouring of love. Thank you to Vista Vet for the incredible attention to detail in all his medical matters and for never giving up on our sweet boy. Thank you to his sponsors Patricia H and Catherine Z. Thank you to anyone who ever looked at Jimmy’s chubby cheeks and felt warmed by his saccharine grin.

Somewhere, the moment Jimmy passed, a storm was broken by the sweeping light of the sun in all of its power and warmth. We know it. We love you, Jimmy. We always will.

Jimmy had 2 Sponsors

Patricia Heltke

Catherine Zirkle

In Memory of Grayson     1/7/2020 – 10/18/2024

In Memory of Juniper     1/19/2022 – 10/3/2024

As is the story with most of our felvies, Juniper’s feline leukemia status was a shock to the system. She was found on the streets as a kitten in Edinburg, Texas, and was brought to Murphy’s Safe Haven. When they tested her and she wound up positive for FeLV, they searched for a permanent solution, a positive outcome—a sanctuary, if you will. They came across Shadow Cats, reached out, and we agreed to take this beautiful dilute tortoiseshell in with our hearts absolutely singing. What a beauty!

Unfortunately for Miss Juniper, only a few days before she’d packed her bags and put on her best floral print button-up to travel in, she got ringworm! This delayed her journey by a month, but Juniper still found her way to our doorstep by way of one of our volunteers, Geri. Juniper got through her isolation period (only a few days) and was brought into Cookie’s to acclimate to the rambunctious room.
Only, Juniper seemed to fit right in. Ever the playful girl, Juniper was a friend to everyone she met. In fact, she made a few fast friends, including the shy and reserved Poppy and cuddly Newt. It wasn’t uncommon to see them curled up in a cat tree napping the afternoon away when Juniper wasn’t social butterflying her way across Cookie’s Place. She had this effervescence about her. She was not one to put herself in the middle of the action, content to cling to walls sometimes, but somehow, she sparkled without the need for fanfare.

Juniper had that sort of timeless kitty beauty about her, an elegant face, and a sandy orange dappling of a necklace around her neck. She had a chimera cat face, one half a soft gray, the other that same sandy orange, and the most striking green eyes you’ve ever seen. Our Juniper was truly an elegant beauty, though she retained her playful energy. That meant that sometimes she ditched the regality for a chinchilla-style dust bath in the litterbox, which always gave everyone a good chuckle. Juniper was special, with a special coat, a special personality, and a special heart.

We loved Juniper’s heart. She had one of those little souls that shone through purely, a beam of sunlight to every cat and person she came across. I’m not sure a single person exists that wouldn’t smile on a bad day just seeing her little prance, or seeing her try to get through a cat door with a donut cone on. What a silly, treasured girl.

Juniper spent her days reclining on catio shelves, basking in golden hour’s best sunbeams, and stretching her little toes in the most comfy, curled sleeping position on the softest beds. Juniper’s life wasn’t long, but it was brimming with love, friendship, devoted admirers, and even more love. We couldn’t have wished for a better life for this girl, if only it could have been longer.

But everyone who has ever loved a cat knows that infinity doesn’t exist, and though we do our best to turn our eyes to its piercing gaze, time comes for us all. Even the ones that deserve so much more time. Juniper deserved more time, but leukemia had its eyes set on her. It progressed, rendering her anemic, and though her body did its best to supply her with new red blood cells, leukemia destroyed them as soon as they were made. We tried to give our Juniper the best and most time we could, but the day came when we had to make a decision none of us wanted to have to make.

Juniper had grown tired and weak, losing muscle, and did not seem as spry as she normally was. On her favorite catio in Cookie’s place, we surrounded Juniper with love, praise, laughs, and so many tears, and gently held her paw as she passed from this life into the beyond. A little piece of each of our hearts went with her. To honor her passing, our technicians, with fresh tears in their eyes and a deep love and respect for this girl, pressed her pawprint onto a sheet of paper with colors mimicking the galaxies she had surely ascended to.

We miss our angel, Juniper. We miss her soft presence, so warm and permeating, and that inquisitive tip of her chin up with a question always present in those big green eyes. But we know in our hearts that we did the best we could for Juniper, that in her short life, she knew so much love and the best care. We know that Poppy is waiting for her best friend at the rainbow bridge, ready to guide her to the endless glade, to the place where all other Shadow Cats get to experience a world without pain, with boundless curiosity, with endless bunnies to watch and butterflies to chase. Juniper is home.

Thank you to the volunteers who always had a brush and a lap ready for her, to Vista Vet for always providing the best guidance and care, and to our staff who nurtured Juniper from kittenhood to adulthood with love, so much love. Thank you to everyone who ever looked at Juniper and thought she was the most beautiful cat they’d ever laid eyes on. We know you’d be right.

And how fitting that our Juniper was taken on a beam of golden sunlight, that in her last exhale of breath, as she peacefully left this world, the hiding sun came out and enveloped her in its eternal embrace? We will never forget it. In every sunbeam, we’ll think of you. We love you, Juniper. We always will.

Juniper had 2 Sponsors

Anne Fajkus

Cherie Wright