Memorials

In Memory of Alina    1/10/2011 – 8/24/2025

Over the years, Shadow Cats has welcomed a few needy mothers and kittens into the sanctuary. In 2012, we rescued Alina, a firecracker of a redhead with her two sweet babies, Sophie and Nico. Sophie had a beautiful calico coat, and Nico was an absolutely stunning white kitty with limpid blue eyes, like peering into a crystal.

Alina herself wasn’t much older than her kittens, which is the reality of so many female kitties living outside giving birth. She was just over a year old when she had them. Thankfully for this sweet little family, sponsors fell in love with Alina’s kittens, and a volunteer fell head over heels for Alina’s lap cat tendencies and feisty personality. The catch, as is the case with all of the very special kitties in our care, was that Alina didn’t quite have her litterbox manners up to par.

Alina’s adopter tried everything under the sun to get her to properly use the litterboxes. Unfortunately, for one reason or another, Alina still struggled with this issue. We took Alina back in, because once a Shadow Cat, always a Shadow Cat! Alina struggled with the litterbox for a while, but she left the habit behind with a little maturing under her belt. We got to truly see Alina relax in her environment and become one of the gang.

She had some tumultuous relationships over the years, to be certain. Alina and Tabbytha used to be arch nemeses if you can believe it, and used to stare at each other through the windows of the old sanctuary, perhaps communicating telepathically with words we’d rather plug our ears than listen to! Alina was a tough gal, and though she was quite petite, her larger-than-life personality commanded attention and respect. She was the matriarch you didn’t wanna mess with!

As Alina aged, though, she really did soften considerably. When she moved from Harmony to Oasis, we discovered just how much Alina enjoyed greeting visitors. As she was positioned by the front door, any time approaching footsteps could be heard, Alina was waiting right there to make you feel welcome and give you a tour. And if you picked her up so she didn’t have to do the legwork, all the better!

Alina truly never met a stranger. She was intuitive, with soulful eyes that seemed to peer into the heart of you. When we had our grief counseling sessions, Alina was always front and center, ready to climb into a lap even as tears fell into it. She was soft, sweet, so warm and loving. As life changed around us, Alina was always a constant. You could always expect her to greet you. You could always expect her to jump up on the counter if you leaned against it. You could always expect her to follow a camera for her close-up, or get her daily tap water fix as you washed your hands.

As much as we were an everyday fixture in Alina’s life, she was in ours. Somehow, the old gal who was always mistaken for a kitten began to show signs of her age. Her eyes looked different, her expression was different, and her kidney disease was rapidly progressing. Alina had every treatment under the sun, but medication can only take you so far, and it became clear to us that somehow, sometime soon, we would have to learn how to live a life without Alina.

The thought alone is enough to drop your heart into your stomach. Every loss is felt, but when a cat has been with us for 13 years, it just feels different. We treasured the time we had left with Alina. She sunbathed on the catio, and though she couldn’t reach the high shelves she used to love climbing so much in her youth, she did still enjoy the sunbeams. She even got to remember what it was like to be a mom when kitten Malibu stayed with us for a month until her adoption. Alina sweetly groomed her, sharing her maternal instincts before she decided perhaps she was over the whole motherhood thing. She’d done her time!

Though we somehow hoped Alina would be the first ever cat to live to 40 years of age, it became clear that it was time for us to let her go as much as it was time for her to pass on. We gave her a final gift, the gift of a peaceful passing. Surrounded by those who loved her, who carried her to her heart’s content, who always left the tap running a little longer for her…Alina, sweet Alina, left us.

Alina spent many beautiful years with us, old and new sanctuary, through the comings and goings of life, Alina sat dutifully by our sides. She’d look up at us with that thoughtful, soft expression, the sort of look that would make you wonder just what she happened to be thinking of aside from the obvious plea for treats. Alina was truly a special girl, our forever kitten, our rare redhead, the sweetest, most gentle cat you could ever hope to have inhabit your lap. We will miss her tremendously.

Now, Alina stands at the first step of the rainbow bridge. So many familiar faces wait to greet her, from the old sanctuary and the new, from Harmony to Oasis. In a body free of disease, free of pain, free of ache, unfettered by a body that limited her, Alina is free to climb the highest tree in sight once more. Like a panther, she can recline on a sturdy branch, surveying her kingdom with delicate paws crossed in the way she always liked to cross them. With a smile on her face and dappled sunbeams speckling her back, Alina knows peace, freedom, and has the love of so many to lift her higher.

Thank you to the incredible sponsors who loved Alina far and wide, Gary M, Yolanda M, Leslie B, Ron B, and Shelley R. Thank you to the wonderful volunteers who brushed Alina to her standards and then some, and always had a warm lap to offer. Thank you to the wonderful staff who experienced and loved Alina’s quirks every day, who loved her through every shade of her life. Thank you to Vista Vet for the wonderful care she received. Thank you to anyone who ever noticed the delicate placement of her paws and thought, “What a lady.”

We love you, Alina. We always will. I hope there are some prime windows for you to lick clean across the rainbow bridge.

Alina had 3 Sponsors

“In memory of our Lil Bit.”
-Gary and Yolanda McAninch

“In memory of our beloved orange boy, Cimmaron.”
-Leslie & Ron Boerger

Shelley Reuger

In Memory of Stevie    10/15/2019 – 8/15/2025

Like so many that came before her, Stevie had been living on the streets of Dallas. Many cats make a living as community cats, but street life is made that much harder with problems like feline leukemia and vision issues. When she was evaluated by veterinarians, it became clear that Stevie had no vision at all. This, on top of her feline leukemia diagnosis, meant that going back into the streets wasn’t an option. SPCA of Texas reached out for options, and Shadow Cats answered the call.

In October of 2020, at the height of a very uncertain time period, Stevie made her way to the Sanctuary and became a bright spot for all. Stevie, despite all the odds stacked against her, seemed to thrive. Her intuition was remarkably powerful, and despite being a newcomer, she seemed to know just where to find the litter boxes and the comfiest beds to make herself right at home.

Due to her lack of sight in either eye and the problems that could have stemmed from keeping them, we made the decision to have an enucleation done. It didn’t bother Stevie, of course, because she didn’t know the difference! Somehow, with time, Stevie’s intuition became even greater. It felt like she’d taken a page from Daredevil and his “world on fire” sense map. Through supersense or perhaps echolocation that could rival a whale’s, Stevie continued to impress us. She was spry, playful, and loved to toss around a spring or mouse toy…and always knew the exact spot that it landed.

We accommodated her by trying to keep familiar items in similar places so as not to disrupt her routine. Somehow, even still, when it was time for a well-loved cat tree or toy to go, Stevie seemed to know. She didn’t seem to rely on memory as much as she relied on her own senses. It’s what made her such an expert climber. She would scale the high shelves, find herself on the top rung of a cat tree, and not once did we have to worry about her. Stevie navigated her world with the precision and bravery of an adventurer.

And oh, how our Stevie loved those catio shelves. Stevie acted kind of like a very excited kid at the beach, swimming endlessly and only returning to shore to pop open the cooler and have a snack. She would spend all day outside, lounging on shelves, chirping at birds, sunbathing, so much so that sometimes you only saw her come in at the pre-ordained 3PM wet food dinnertime! This wasn’t a summer exclusive, either. Stevie loved the outside so much that during the wintertime we’d have to get her nice fluffy sweaters to keep her forever-kitten build nice and fleece-warm. As such, she was a natural choice for an adorable Christmas sweater at our open house! And she was, of course, always on Santa’s nice list.

On top of being incredibly intelligent, frighteningly intuitive, and adventurous, Stevie was also distractingly adorable. She was always an independent sort of gal, so getting Stevie on your lap was something to brag about indefinitely. She’d purr endlessly, and on top of having this cute, tiny little kitten appearance compared to some of our beefier cats, Stevie’s little meow was equally adorable. Everything about Stevie just made you want to swaddle her up and carry her around in your arms. She was just a precious, kind, warm, curious little creature.

Unfortunately, her kidneys began failing. Many cats with kidney disease can live many years past diagnosis with the proper treatment and care, but in the case of some of our feline leukemia cats, the virus seems to attack the kidneys directly, causing a quick progression. Despite all we did, even with hospitalization, her kidney values continued to deteriorate. We knew that her feline leukemia had flipped “on” and began to take its toll on her body. The final gift we could give Stevie after five beautiful years of happiness, love, and belonging was the gift of a peaceful passing.

Surrounded by those she loved dearly, Stevie made her rounds. She walked through the circle, stopping at each person, each gentle nudge and sweet purr an acceptance, not a goodbye…but rather, “See you later.” Stevie curled up sweetly, like she was settling into a wonderful afternoon nap, and passed. Tears fell around her, laughs and memories shared, and the sky itself seemed to grieve, peppering us with raindrops as we returned to the sanctuary. Losing Stevie feels like losing a bit of the sun. The grief is hard. Sometimes, it feels like a heavy coat resting on your shoulders. What lightens the load is knowing just how lucky we were to know Stevie at all, to be blessed by her inquisitive spirit, her resilience, and her beauty.

Now, Stevie stands at life’s crossing. She takes tentative steps over the rainbow bridge, her keen senses overwhelmed with sight restored. Stevie can take in all the beautiful sights she never knew, the endless glade sprawling with vibrant wildflowers, and the faces of all of the friends she’d made during her beautiful life at Shadow Cats. She can chirp at the birds, scale tree bark for her perfect perch, and feel the wind blowing along her whiskers once more, her favorite pastime. Stevie leaves this life with the culmination of the love she’d gathered, manifested in the beautiful life she’ll live in eternal peace.

Thank you to her wonderful sponsors, Amy J, Irene K, Lori H, and Jennifer B. Thank you to the wonderful volunteers who spent ample time playing with and loving this precious girl. Thank you to the wonderful staff who loved our little wallflower, and paid close attention to all of her little intricacies, always treating all of our kitties like one of their own. Thank you to the devotion of the veterinary staff at Vista Vet who cared for her. Thank you to anyone who ever looked on in awe of Stevie playing as though she’d never lost her sight at all. Stevie was different, and so very loved because of it.

We love you, Stevie. We always will.

Stevie had 4 Sponsors

Amy Juried

Irene Knott

Lori Harris

Jennifer Bristow

In Memory of Hetta    8/23/2009 – 8/14/2025

In July 2025, we received an inquiry from a friend of Shadow Cats. She explained that there was an elderly cat named Hetta living at an assisted living facility with her longtime owner. Unfortunately, her owner was struggling to care for her with a progressing dementia diagnosis, and could no longer manage Hetta’s multiple medical conditions, hyperthyroidism being the most pressing of them.

So many cats come to Shadow Cats in harrowing circumstances. Hetta’s may not have been the squeakiest of wheels, but her circumstance was heart-wrenching in its own right. Hetta was loved. She brought so much joy and happiness to her owner, and her owner returned it in spades. But despite our best laid plans, life has its own, and Hetta’s ending path quickly shifted to question marks. Any of us, in their circumstances, would hope for our beloved pets to land in the softest of places were we unable to provide for them any longer.

That same month, we agreed to take Hetta into our care, vowing to give her the softest of landings we knew her owner would’ve wanted for her. Hetta was very skinny, having battled her hyperthyroidism for several months, and we knew the road wasn’t going to be easy…but what it would be, is worth it. We immediately had her seen by our veterinarians and began treatment for her various medical conditions.

We were quickly surprised to find that Hetta’s personality packed a punch her tiny frame did not. We expected a lap cat, an extracurricular snoozer, but Hetta put those ideas to rest with her drama and her spunk! Hetta surely spent a lot of time gazing into the eyes of her prior owner, with or without hypnotic ability, so she wasn’t exactly used to the idea of roommates. She had a fierce independent streak and wasn’t shy about communicating her boundaries. We love a confident queen!

Now, Hetta maybe hadn’t quite learned the nuance of boundary and that your boundaries can only encompass yourself. She was quite set on telling the other kitties to stay roughly ten feet away at all times. Eventually, though, she braved Oasis’ kitchen. She had her own bed, the soft kind she could just sink into, right near the kitchen counters. One time, she was making her way to her princess cat bed, and sweet, unsuspecting Tommy happened to pass. Hetta, in her famed broadway theatrics, flopped over into her bed like a fantasy maiden having a fainting episode. Tommy, bewildered, stared at her for an extended period of time before going back to whatever he was doing (very likely eating).

Hetta made us laugh every day with her silly antics. When she wasn’t being the prima donna we knew and loved, she was enjoying the privacy of her personal suite, the exam room. She loved to snuggle up in a little blanket on the shelves of one of our organizers, and just be with us while we worked. She’d even follow us around, fully expecting to be carried. But here’s the thing, despite Hetta’s propensity for dramatics, there was nothing but pure love in her eyes when she looked at you.

When you picked her up and held her in your arms, and she settled in against you, she’d look up at you like you were the sole reason for the little sweet smile she wore. Even if we did have to wipe her chin regularly…for a Queen, she could’ve practiced her table manners a little more! But honestly, all these little things swirled together to make the perfect concoction we knew as Hetta. There wasn’t a thing about her we’d change.

Except, perhaps, her medical conditions. Unfortunately, hyperthyroidism had already done some damage to her heart and liver. She had really perked up, and we’d felt very hopeful for a recovery. Her T4 levels were creeping closer to normal, and she was loving life. Unfortunately, her frail body just couldn’t keep up the fight. After being hospitalized, after we and our veterinarians gave her our all, we came to the conclusion that we hate to make more than anything. We had to let sweet Hetta finally rest.

Held in the arms of those who cared for her, we imparted all the love we held in our hearts to Hetta. She passed peacefully, with so many tears falling around her. She knew love. She was a brave girl, and she’d overcome so much. Though our time with her was short, she left a mark on our hearts all the same. Hetta knew something so many kitties don’t: the eternal love of an owner, and the doting care of an entire staff. Every cat’s dream, and our precious Hetta truly had it all.

Now, Hetta stands at life’s crossing. Her tiny paws begin to ascend the rainbow bridge, and beyond its steps stretches an evergreen glade. Though she hasn’t met them all, so many Shadow Cats that came before her guide the way. Naturally, in true Hetta fashion, in a healthy body, Hetta hisses her warning to the bewilderment of all others and trots to a little nook all of her own. There, under an eternal sun’s beams of dappled light, Hetta remains warm and waits for the ones she loves.

Thank you to Hetta’s wonderful sponsor, Michelle A. Thank you to the fabulous volunteers who made Hetta’s weeks with us memorable and warm. Thank you to the staff who swooped in immediately and cared for Hetta as though she’d always been at the Sanctuary, who loved her until the very last. Thank you to Vista Vet for the exceptional care she received. Thank you to everyone who looked at her sweet little face and thought her smile was out of this world. It was, and now she’s back at home amongst the stars.

We love you, Hetta. We always will.

Hetta had 1 Sponsor

Michelle Arena

In Memory of Patty    4/21/2024 – 8/4/2025

In April, we welcomed two special cats into our care.

They had been trapped, spayed…and there was some difficulty with the ‘return’ portion of TNR as they both tested positive for feline leukemia! The woman who trapped them was at a loss and kept them inside, searching for a positive outcome for the bonded pair.

Originally, we only accepted one into our care. We named her Pickle. She was quite shy, but with the goofiest little personality. We were informed at her drop-off, though, that she was incredibly bonded with another kitty. And who are we to turn away a bonded pair? We welcome the second feline leukemia positive kitty into our care, and we named her Patty…because Pickle & Patty just go together, like a burger!

Their dynamic became clear immediately. Patty was Pickles’ protector. She would pile on top of Pickle and fix us with a menacing glare, warning us that she was, indeed, willing to resort to a WWE smackdown to protect her friend. Doing anything at all with Pickle meant first dealing with Patty, which involved feral gloves and a prayer to the god of your choosing. Kearstin, our Sanctuary Manager, became an expert in the niche art of Patty-handling.

We decided that Cookie’s West would be the best place for them, and cushioned our towering condos with lots of beds and hidey holes to give them plenty of cover. Much like our ferals in Wild Side, we knew we needed to give the pair ample space to exist without human interference. We knew they may never become lap cats, but that was okay. We would love them from afar, accepting them exactly as they are.

What we DIDN’T expect was the nightlife! As soon as people began filtering out of the sanctuary for the evening, the feral felvies would come out to play. Pickle in particular amused us with her silliness and zoomies, but even Patty would come out and prowl like a panther under the cover of darkness. It warmed our hearts to see them enjoying life, even if they felt like we had to be out of the picture to do it.

Patty and Pickle even cozied up to Mystique, another feline leukemia positive kitty who wasn’t quite matched to their level of ferality…but certainly emulated the sort of catitude Patty seemed to vibe with. She’d earned her spot in their orbit. We enjoyed spectating, and began to breathe a sigh of relief that over time they’d settle into their home here.

Unfortunately, Patty developed severe eye ulcers. Our staff was very creative with treating her, and did their absolute best to give her the best chance to heal possible. Patty’s ulcers began to heal, and we were excited to see her get back to her late night antics with Pickle.

But it seemed feline leukemia already had its sights set on our girl, and tragedy struck. Patty had a sudden neurologic event. She was rushed to the emergency vet, where it became apparent that she’d suffered a clot, and there was no coming back from this. In the arms of Kearstin, who had learned how to handle Patty through dedication, patience, and love, Patty peacefully passed away.

It is never easy to lose one of our felvies. It is even more difficult to lose them when we feel we’ve only been with them for a sliver of time in the expanse of their lives. But through our sorrow, we’ve found one profound comfort: in her last months, she got to snuggle up with her very best friend. It was Patty’s protectiveness and courage that gave Pickle the security she needed to truly blossom. Patty left her pawprint on Pickle’s heart, and though Patty is no longer with us, the fibers of their friendship are wound tightly, everlasting. The security and love Patty provided Pickle will carry on for a lifetime.

Now, Patty stands at life’s crossing. The soft amber rays of an eternal sun illuminate a path just for her, through the greenest grass and a plume of wildflowers. Patty is absolved of illness, of pain or stress. Now exists only the softest life, speckled within it, her heart’s every little desire. She bounds through the afterlife with the same spirited way she held in life. We just know Patty is up there watching Pickles’ overnight zoomies with a warmth in her secret softie heart. She’ll check in at the rainbow bridge every now and again, waiting for the day her best friend joins her.

Thank you to Patty’s amazing sponsor, Michelle A. Thank you to the volunteers who loved this beauty from afar and admired those gorgeous green eyes. Thank you to the staff who, despite Patty’s feisty personality, put their all into treating her through sickness and knew their love would sometimes be met with a growl and glare but freely gave it anyway. Thank you to Vista Vet who gave her amazing medical care during her time at Shadow Cats. Thank you to anyone who thought Pickle’s security blanket looked awfully cute and cuddly.

We love you, Patty. We always will.

Patty had 1 Sponsor

Michelle A

In Memory of Marble    11/29/2005 – 7/28/2025

In November of 2024, we received a very surprising phone call from Williamson County Animal Shelter.

“Hey, we just wanted to let you know that we have your cat Marble here!”

Um…what!? That was the internal reaction. There were multiple things wrong with that sentence. Firstly, though our kitties have closed-in catio access, none of them has the freedom to wander around Williamson County like some teenager without a curfew! We have never had a cat escape the sanctuary due to our mantrap-style doors. Additionally, we have never had a cat named Marble in our care.

The external reaction was far different. “We’ll head over right away!”

And so, our Sanctuary Director drove to the shelter for more information and some clarification. Apparently, we had potentially TNR’d and microchipped a cat in 2006; this is why our phone number was attached to her. Whoever took her in down the line never bothered to change her microchip information, and on top of that, they declawed her! This poor senior girl, easily over 20 years old, was roaming outside, emaciated and without shelter. She was hovering around someone’s front porch, and that’s how she wound up at the shelter.

When we say, “Once a Shadow Cat, always a Shadow Cat,” we mean it. She was ours, and she was in dire need of care. She was a frail 4lbs, and we were worried about whether Marble would make it. We vowed to make sure her time was well spent, and that she knew love…for the first time in who knows how long.

Marble was a certifiable angel with people. She’d look into your eyes with a sort of gratefulness that made your heart swell. Or maybe she was thinking about her next meal, hard to say, but we’ll choose to anthropomorphize until the bitter end! Cats, though? Other cats were the bane of her very existence, the gasoline to her all-consuming, billowing flames, and if she caught one’s line of sight, we’re pretty sure ‘O Fortuna’ started playing in the background. Marble quickly revealed the reason she had lived so long. She was fueled by a pure, unadulterated spite, the kind only someone who has seen many moons can carry.

We began to strategize. How were we going to help Marble learn that other cats were not the threat she deemed them to be? How were we going to ensure that she lived her best life? The challenge was clearly laid out.

With Marble being entirely deaf, she didn’t have the kind of warnings alerting her to the presence of another cat that the others have. So, when one would come into her field of vision, Marble would scream so loud that all of us within a five-mile radius would jump out of our own skin. It was like she had an invisible, giant bubble surrounding her, and if another cat made the mistake of entering the invisible boundary she’d erected, all bets were off.

Still, Marble was at least all bark and no bite, and most of the cats were put off enough by her sounding the alarm that they gave her space. Still, we worried about her stress, and we wanted better for her. We wanted her to understand that this was her home, and for once, there weren’t the threats on the streets she had surely grown accustomed to. We tried several different things, a reintroduction among those things, and through vigilance and patience…Marble began to settle down with the idea of home. Our cortisol levels thanked her, because Oasis once again became the quiet haven we know and love.

We began to see her personality truly come out. We treated her for her arthritis, and we gave her the best chance at a comfortable life. Though it took her three business days to find your lap, if you sat down, you were surely going to be accosted by the old lady. She would purr so loudly, so sweetly, so lovingly with a simple pet and a warm lap. Marble truly began loving life. We watched her play. We watched her follow people around like a baby duckling. She’d even follow you into the bathroom if you’d let her! She wanted nothing more than to be with people, and there was no one she wanted to be with more than Lyss.

Lyss and Marble shared a special connection. Lyss would carry Marble around like a baby, and Marble would just melt into her. It was the absolute sweetest thing to behold. When Lyss had her days off, Marble would sulk in her favorite bed despite the plentiful spare human opportunities around her. This crotchety old cat who’d had to fend for herself on the streets finally knew the warm embrace of love and all that it could offer. The cat we were worried wouldn’t make it another week was suddenly gaining weight and showing us just how resilient she was. We were in awe of Marble.

We knew, in our hearts, that our time with Marble wouldn’t be forever. We were bolstered by the time we did have with her, but it became clear that her age was catching up with her. It became harder for her to get around, her arthritis worsening despite treatment, and she became weak. Bloodwork revealed cancer flags, and after a scary episode of lethargy and balance issues, it became apparent that it was time to let our sweet Marble go.

Surrounded by those who loved her the most, held in the adoring arms of her favorite person, Marble left us. Though we are unsure of Marble’s history, there is one thing we know for certain: the last chapter of Marble’s life was filled with love. There was not a soul who met Marble and didn’t fall in love with her, and there is not a soul touched by her that won’t remember her with a laugh or a smile. We laugh about her eyes, with iris topography and threaded lines that resembled crisp autumn leaves. And…somehow made it seem like she could see into other dimensions. We laughed about her sweet little face, with the tiniest chin, birdlike even in the way she sat. And from the same mouth she cursed at other cats with, came the daintiest meows known to man.

Our time with Marble was precious, and the time that our lives just so happened to intersect with hers will always hold a special place in our hearts. We feel very privileged to know that, in the vastness of the universe, in the span of lifetimes, of opportunity and chance, we knew Marble, a very special girl with a special story, for a time.

Now, Marble stands at life’s crossing. Ahead stretches a glade of the greenest, freshest grass, canopied in trees providing ample shade and hiding chirping songbirds within their confines. Marble crosses the rainbow bridge and finds her own little peaceful corner, erecting a border with a ten-mile radius and lots of, “Do not enter, or else” signs. She has chomped the signs for emphasis. There, she forgoes the shade entirely. Instead, she finds the warmest rays of light and bathes beneath a brightly burning, eternal sun with the sweetest expression on her little face. Marble is at peace, having left this world with a heart full of love.

Thank you to Marble’s fantastic sponsors, Theresa C and Diane G. Thank you to the volunteers who always provided a lap for our sweet oldest gal and gave her so, so much love. Thank you to our patient, loving staff for sticking beside Marble and showing her that she could be vulnerable, sweet, and accept love, that not everyone and everything bites. Thank you to everyone who ever saw Marble’s tiny little paws and thought they were the cutest things in the universe; you were right.

We love you, Marble. We always will.

Marble had 2 Sponsors

Theresa Caillouet

Diane L Grabowski

In Memory of Morris    6/25/2011 – 7/27/2025

Though this story starts very similarly to many of our other Shadow Cats, its subject defied all expectations, preconceived notions, and barriers. This story is as special as the cat who lived it. This is Morris’s story, and it begins when the sweltering Texan summer gave way to a similarly sultry fall in 2014.

We received correspondence from the Austin Animal Center about a 3-year-old feline leukemia-positive cat. We blessedly had space, so saying ‘yes’ to Morris was a no-brainer. There was, of course, no way to know the impact we’d have when saying ‘yes’, and just how special this cat was going to be.

Much like the autumnal palette at the time, the shifting, deepening oranges of leaves and plentiful pumpkins lining boxes in storefronts, Morris was a beautiful orange boy. In perfect complement, his eyes were this incredible seafoam blueish-green, the kind of shade you’d expect to see only in the clearest Caribbean waters. At the center of the line on his nose, a carefully placed freckle. Branching outward, a sprig of whiskers on each side, streaks of white with black stalks peppered throughout. Just below the whisker pads, twin fangs peeked out. As a whole, Morris looked more lion than housecat.

He was striking.

It was love at first sight.

We very quickly learned that Morris was more than just a pretty face. Though he had quite the big cat physique, he was incredibly sweet, friendly, and very affectionate. He’d look up at you with those seafoam eyes, and suddenly you were compelled to give him as many pets and scritches as he desired. If your lap was full of other Cookie’s Place cats, Morris didn’t mind; he’d lounge right on top of the lot of them in a ridiculously amusing and sweet cuddle pile.

Morris was generally more of a people’s cat than a cat’s cat, but there were, of course, exceptions to that rule. Kittens, specifically. Something about kittens awoke something gentle in Morris. It wasn’t uncommon to see Morris snuggling up to a newbie kitten, grooming them and providing them the warmth they were surely missing from their family, or a person who loved them. Throughout the years, he’s even been called “Uncle Morris” for this sweet behavior.

People had the true grip on his heart, though. Like a heat-seeking missile, Morris knew when you entered Cookie’s. More accurately, you could say that he knew the moment you were opening the door, because he had a tendency to stare at you through the window longingly if you were giving the kitties attention in another room.

Morris isn’t the ONLY reason we have a no shorts rule, but he certainly was the first cat we thought of in regards to the rule. When you opened that door to Cookie’s Place, Morris was already flexing his little toes in preparation. If you had some nicely textured shoes, he’d greet you by making biscuits and destroying your shoelaces. Aw, Morris! You shouldn’t have. If your pants caught his eye, though, he’d stretch out on you like you were a human scratching post, those little claws penetrating the fabric and making your eyes water. But he’s so handsome and sweet that no one ever wanted to stop him! Most of us would just grin and bear it, and Morris would look up at you with a pleased expression, like he was none the wiser.

We actually had to have signs around the sanctuary at one point, warning of Morris’ door-dashing behavior. He just wanted to be where the people were! And, naturally, when he found out that Pepper’s room held the most expensive veterinary diet in the sanctuary, what kind of cat would he be if he didn’t sample it for himself? So many bowls of Royal Canin hydrolyzed dry food thrown away after Morris’ curiosity was sated…silly boy! It was someone’s sole job at the Christmas Open Houses to hold Morris to ensure he didn’t door dash. He was just such a character.

Morris really ruled the roost. He just had that natural charisma that drew you to him. We wouldn’t be surprised if those beautiful eyes of his possessed some hypnotic power. We’ll never forget when Morris started living in Annex, one of the cats knocked over a box of temptations treats and chewed fangholes into the plastic. We had blamed Dixie solely at the time, but after witnessing Morris gnawing on the top of the treat container, we put two and two together! Seemed this was a coordinated effort, and Morris was quite the opportunist. We’re sure he used some Jedi mind tricks to absolve himself of any responsibility, and we went on our way. We had to be crafty about hiding the treats after that.

We just adored Morris. At every photoshoot for every event, Morris was front and center. He sported many an outfit, including a Dracula cape for Halloween, thanks to his fangs, and even a Hawaiian button-up shirt. He would wear necklaces and hats. He was just thrilled to be around people and to be the center of attention. When we had social media personalities and influencers come to the Sanctuary, Morris was always happily the first greeter of Cookie’s Place, and his claws didn’t discriminate against their shoes. Everyone had an equal opportunity to have their shoelaces frayed and split. We loved that for Morris.

The stories we have are plentiful, the memories eternal. I could spend the next eon writing all of the silly little things Morris has done. He was just that kind of cat. He had an impact on everyone he ever met. He lived to be an incredible 14 years old, despite his feline leukemia, despite anyone who ever said these cats simply aren’t worth the heartbreak. Whether it was 6 months or the incredible 11 years we had with Morris, we know he would’ve impacted us the same. As he grew into his old age, toward the end, it became clear his feline leukemia was rearing its ugly head. After some GI problems, an ultrasound left us with severe IBD or probable GI lymphoma as a diagnosis. We knew, then, that our time with this boy who had lived despite all the odds was coming to an end.

When ringworm took the sanctuary by storm, though it took some of the other feline leukemia kitties time to recover, Morris simply could not overcome it. We consulted with dermatologists, but we knew the reason that he could not heal. His immune system was so hampered that there was little to no chance of kicking the fungal infection; this was clear. Still, we had to try. Morris had his own personal television installed in isolation while we treated him. Our Sanctuary Director had an old one lying around, and thank god it was an old one, because those paws came out swinging when Morris saw a mouse fly across the screen. That TV took a beating, but it was his! Hand-delivered, just for him.

To give him the best chance of healing, we even built a special catio out of the isolation window. Morris spent his last days doing what he loved second-best to destroying shoes, being pet and crawling into laps despite maximum cat occupancy. He sunbathed. Morris LOVED the catios. He loved to watch the bunnies and squirrels run by. He loved to watch birds flit about in the sky or concealed birds twittering in the rose bushes. Morris was freest beneath the sun that mimicked the tresses of his orange mane, unhindered for a moment of pure bliss in warmth that set his tiny soul alight. Beneath the sun, Morris was free. Free of worry, free of feline leukemia, free of cancer.

We had high hopes for Morris’ recovery then, but congestion quickly turned into pneumonia. The immune system that didn’t have the strength to fight off ringworm didn’t have the strength to fight off sickness. We caught it early and treated it quickly, pouring our everything through tears to give him the best chance at survival. But in a matter of days, it became apparent that Morris wouldn’t fight this. Not this time.

We knew, then. We had to free Morris, one last time, from one last struggle. We made sure his last days were happy. We let him sunbathe freely on his catio. He was fed with every treat he could possibly delight in. He was visited by those who had seen him in his prime, a bounding Lion standing at the precipice of his pride. Many tears were shed, near and far, for the soul who touched so many hearts and showed so many that feline leukemia isn’t a death sentence. Morris lived his life on his terms, loved by everyone who ever had the privilege and blessing to meet him. Morris defied the odds. He was a symbol of what love can do, an icon, a fixture, and the perfect example that life is what you make it.

On Morris’s final day, he was surrounded by those who, with tenacity and hearts brimming with love, treated him through the most difficult chapter of his life. We shared stories of his silly Morris-isms, and we laughed and cried. He ate as many temptations as his heart desired. Beneath the sun he loved so much, with loving hands cupping his face, holding his paws, and petting him until his very last breath, Morris passed on.

We miss Morris terribly. We will continue to miss Morris terribly. He became a part of Shadow Cats in the truest sense. It’s easy to picture him in our mind’s eye, reclined along the highest shelf on the catio, the greenest grass contrasting with the sweet orange of his coat. It’s easy to picture his big paws hanging over the edge, biscuits and purrs revving on approach. The sweetest eyes, a cat-like grin, with two fangs peeking out just past his lips. Before there was ever grief, before there were tears, before there was heartbreak and sadness, there was love. So much love. Our collective grief over the loss of Morris is merely proof of the most beautiful, incomprehensible, breathtaking, spiritual thing someone can experience. It’s the proof of love, and for Morris, we have it in spades.

Now, Morris stands at the precipice of the rainbow bridge. Across the way, there are so many friendly, familiar faces, the Shadow Cats he knew and loved over the course of his decade with us. Morris stands not as the old man he’d morphed into, but in his former glory. His miraculous coat sprawls out in sunset orange, his eyes echoing the vitality they once held so many years ago. He’s thicker than the old man we knew, a true lion, once again at the head of his pride. As he crosses the rainbow bridge and bounds into tendrils of light, as he raises his head to bask in the pure warmth of the truest eternal sun, we know Morris is free. Free of cancer, free of feline leukemia, free of worry, boundless and roaming the expanse of infinity with the cat-like grin he always seemed to wear.

Thank you to Morris’s sponsors, Lisa S, Kat G, and Bonnie D, who watched his incredible story unfold throughout the years. Thank you to the volunteers who gave Morris as much love and attention as he surely expected, who loved him through changing seasons and spanning years. Thank you to the incredible staff who gave it their all in treating Morris through the most difficult chapter of his long life, and for giving him love despite it. You were everything to him. Thank you for loving him and treasuring him long before he was sick.

Thank you to anyone who ever had Morris’ signature scratched on their various body parts and grinned through it, or even laughed. Thank you to everyone who watched Morris’ journey, from AAC to Shadow Cats, all the way to the new Sanctuary. On his catio, a plaque was placed. In his honor, a brick. His portrait, lovingly drawn by Kelly K, hangs in our Community Room now, standing the test of time and reminding us…of just how special this special cat was.

We love you, Morris. We always will.

Morris had 3 Sponsors

Lisa Salazar

Kat Gesh-Wilson

Bonnie Denbo

In Memory of Jolene    12/28/2019 – 7/22/2025

The dreaded second red line, or blue dot, depending on your brand of test. When testing for feline leukemia, a cat’s fate is decided so often based upon the presence of that line or that dot.

“They’ll simply die anyway,” some say.

Still, there are always people who look into the cats’ eyes and see a better life for them. Jolene, a feline leukemia-positive cat rescued by Karnes County Humane Organization, had a group of determined people advocating for her. They searched tirelessly for a forever home for her, but despite Jolene’s beautiful dilute coat and sparkling personality, she garnered no interest. Jolene began to shut down in the shelter environment, and their veterinarian recommended euthanasia.

But still, they looked in those sweet, bright eyes and knew that she had a life to live, that she deserved a chance above all else. They began to look for sanctuaries for her, a forever home with the knowledge and heart to give her the best life possible. They reached out to Shadow Cats, and in August of 2022, Jolene joined the ranks of Cookie’s Place.

Jolene was only about 2 years old when she came to us, and she still had so much kitten energy within her! No matter how many toys they gave this sweet girl, she seemed to always defer to tried-and-true tail-chasing. She started off a little shy, but as introverts tend to do, she gravitated towards other softer-spirited kitties and developed some truly beautiful friendships, like her friendship with Juniper! The two dilute girls would pass the time playing with each other, prancing around the length of Cookie’s Place without a care for their diagnosis.

Despite generally preferring alone time, it didn’t mean that Jolene didn’t enjoy the company of other cats. It wasn’t unusual to see her snuggling with them, or even grooming them. She didn’t have a flamboyant or bold personality. Where the sun may blind with its intensity, or scorch in its heat, Jolene was warm sand, soft sunbeams trickling through a canopy of leaves overhead. Everything about her was soft, gentle, and sweet.

She loved people, and though she did, she never fought over a lap. She never minded the company of other cats or had complaints if you scritched the ear of another. She’d still look up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, the dilute greys and oranges of her coat a reflection of the soft warmth within the very heart of her. She was an avid biscuit maker, a professional pâtissier if you will, and she’d greet you with the cutest nose boops! Everything about our sweet Jolene was precious as can be. Contrary to her namesake, she wouldn’t even think about stealing anyone’s man…but she did collectively steal our hearts.

It’s why, when her feline leukemia activated and began sprouting problems within her, it was hard for us to cope with the idea of having to say goodbye. Her kidneys worsened, and though nothing was apparent at the time, she had a mass spreading within her. Sweet as can be, you never would’ve known. And if anything, in her last weeks, it’s like some part of her knew…because she dosed us with extra sweetness daily, and we welcomed it with open arms and laps at the ready. We watched her carefully, knowing our time with her was limited, but that it’s also our sacred duty to make the last of her days even more special than the rest.

She was absolutely spoiled. She enjoyed the finest of summer sunbeams, and our lone wildflower seeded into an entire field, leaving none unawares of her innate beauty and special spirit. It was as happy as it was sad to witness, knowing what it meant.

When she told us it was time, we listened. In the fluffiest of beds, on the softest of blankets, with her sweet head cradled and paws held in loving hands, with sweet praises whispered gently into her ears, Jolene left this world swaddled in the purest, everlasting love. In the corner of the room, Lottie seemed to almost watch as something lifted up high, leaving to stand at life’s final crossing.

Jolene, with the sweetest gaze, doesn’t look at her final chapter with sadness or regret like so many of us do. With a heart as warm as the love within her eyes, she gazes upon the faces of familiar friends whom she once slept soundly beside, snuggled, protected, warm…a far cry from her life’s cold beginnings. Jolene isn’t sad; she never was. She looks upon her new chapter with gratitude, knowing that despite the most sinister of viruses, not even sickness could rob her of her strength, her beauty, her sweetness, or her gentle spirit. There is not a soul purer than that in Jolene. Together, they bound through an expanse of endless green, of plentiful, sprawling trees, winding paths, celebrating the life they lived, and the eternity they’ve found now, together.

Thank you to her amazing sponsor, Kristen S. Thank you to the volunteers who always made space for Jolene on their laps, who brushed her beautiful coat, and praised her beauty. Thank you to the staff who delighted in Jolene’s silliness, softness, and when she received her diagnoses, remained by her side until the very end…her shepherds. Thank you to Vista Vet for her amazing care, and to Lap of Love for the most peaceful of crossings. Thank you to anyone who ever giggled at Jolene’s name and was pleasantly surprised by how contrary it was to her inherent sweetness.

We love you, Jolene. We always will.

Jolene had 1 Sponsor

Kristen Stanley

In Memory of Nori    6/14/2022 – 7/24/2025

A story we know all too well. A busy kitten season means plentiful kittens, and the circulation of feline leukemia means some of these spry little kittens suffer from its diagnosis, usually from their mothers. Some of these kittens luck out, having abortive infections, where their immune systems are sturdy enough to shake off the virus before it has a chance to integrate with their DNA. Others have their very genomes, and the stories of their lives, rewritten forever despite appearing and being otherwise healthy for the time being.

This is the story of so many Shadow Cats, but this time, it’s the start of Ebi & Nori’s. Ebi and Nori, biological sisters, came to us from the Dorothy O’Connor Pet Adoption Center in Victoria, Texas. Unfortunately, in Victoria, these kittens were at risk of euthanasia due to their feline leukemia positive status. They were looking for a positive outcome for these kittens and reached out to us, and blessedly, we had the space to welcome them. Ebi & Nori came to Shadow Cats in September of 2022, ready to enjoy the simple comforts of cathood without a diagnosis condemning them.

Ebi inherited sweetness. She was a curious, gentle kitten, with cute little eyes that seemed to have an eternal question in them. Nori, on the other hand, was a handful and a half, and we’d have it no other way. These sisters weren’t just different in their coats, but in personality. Our dearly departed Bob & Pixie, the father and mother of Cookie’s Place, swiftly took them under their wing and guided them to some semblance of manners. It seemed to take more for Ebi than it did for Nori, but we loved her spicy little catitude.

She seemed to only get spicier with age! While she loved a good lap and was a snuggler extraordinaire, finding the best place to pet her was kind of like standing in as a member of an explosives engineering squad and being asked to decipher and defuse a bomb within a meager time limit. With that being said, chin scritches seemed to be the safest bet at any given time.

Nori was sweet when she wanted to be, but we can guarantee you it was never at medication time. Walking into Cookie’s West required going over your will & testament while drawing up her cyclosporine and then finding the fluffiest towel possible to wrap her in to avoid becoming a murder mittens mural. We always tried to keep her nails clipped, but that was an ordeal in and of itself. Despite her never having been hurt a day in her life, when nail trimming time came, Nori made sure to sing the song of her people…loudly and ceaselessly.

But, honestly? We loved Nori and all her opinions, as well as her constant need to tell us her opinions. As much as we love our sweet and gentle kitties, there is just something about a spicy kitty that draws you in. And Nori certainly had us captivated! She was just a silly girl, though if we ever described her as silly to her face, we’re sure we’d be met with a withering stare. Still, how serious can a black kitty with a mostly bald belly wearing a strawberry cone be?

Nori had a long affair with the cone due to her allergies. She struggled with hair loss and itchiness that took a lot of finagling to finally manage, as well as ultimately consulting with a dermatologist. So, until we found her perfect concoction of things, she was often seen sporting a chunky bald belly and a silly cone.

That tiny little kitten sure did keep growing…sideways, eventually! To her credit, she did have to be on appetite-stimulating medications, which gave her quite the ravenous appetite. She and her sister Ebi joined the ranks of our chunkiest cats. Nori’s previous sleek, panther-like face with cheeky little fangs pointing out filled out. You could still see her fangs, of course, and she was even featured in some of our Halloween photoshoots because of them. She was just so stinkin’ cute.

She would meow her discontent in the chattiest of tones and purr her gratitude when you pet her just right…or, naturally, gave her treats. And, of course, if you were caught sharing affections with another cat, it wasn’t unexpected to see Nori staring directly at you through a window or glaring from her perch on a cat tree. She wanted to be the center of attention, which was usually, except when she didn’t. Nori embodied the finickiness of the cat with grace, expertise…and a complaintive meow. She kept us on our toes.

Nori lived. She sunbathed (sometimes to her detriment). She played. She swatted. She drooled (usually after meds). She didn’t have much time with her biological parents but was absolutely and utterly adored by Bob & Pixie, even when she shirked their attempts to parent her. Nori was loved wholly and completely for exactly who she was, all her imperfections that made her the perfect sweet and spicy little cat we loved from kittenhood to adulthood.

Love was not enough to stop the lymphoma from spreading through her body. It wasn’t enough to stop the cancerous growths within her. But love bolstered her throughout, and in Nori’s final moments, she was nothing but treasured. Surrounded by the ones who loved her the most, by Caitlin, who knew her from her tiniest kitten form to the chunky, silly queen we know now, with a mouthful of churu she snacked on until her very last, Nori left us.

We wish that somehow love was enough to conquer impossible odds. We wish that love was somehow enough to shield someone from disease and the passage of time. But we are all susceptible to the passage of time, and some have even less time than others. But time isn’t the qualifier we believe in when we look at a life and its impact; we look at the love experienced and love spread. Even though Nori didn’t have a long life, she not only knew love but basked in it. Nori embodied her truest self, and here at Shadow Cats, she was adored for it.

Now, Nori stands at life’s final crossing. Across the bridge so many Shadow Cats have traveled, so many familiar faces wait for Nori. Bob & Pixie, the father and mother of Cookie’s Place, wait to reunite with the kitten they nursed at her very teeny tiniest. Nori, in true Nori fashion, would beeline across the bridge for what we could only imagine as a fondue fountain of churu. She always did act a little like a teenager who was too cool for her parents! Bob, who not-so-secretly loved Nori the most of all of his Cookie’s kids, would trot along behind her, Pixie in tow. None of them has to endure the pain of cancer anymore, or the ups and downs of feline leukemia. Now, they’ll exist peacefully…and we’ll carry a piece of them in our hearts forevermore.

Thank you so much to Nori’s amazing sponsors, Anne F and Suzanne I. Thank you to the volunteers who always gave Nori a lap and a brushing. Thank you to Dustin, who documented all her silly Nori-isms with the heart of someone who had been completely and utterly captured by her funky little personality. Nori may have acted like she didn’t have favorites, but we know she loved you. Thank you to our incredible staff who endured all of Nori’s fiery moods during medicating time, and who were simultaneously amazed by how pliant she was about being put in the neb tank! Thank you to anyone who ever pet her in the wrong spot accidentally, tickled by the way she flicked her tail in annoyance.

We love you, Nori. We always will.

Nori had 2 Sponsors

Anne Fajkus

Suzanne Isaksen

In Memory of Stanley    1/21/2012 – 7/3/2025

In December of 2012, while many families were gathered in front of the warmth of a crackling fireplace, countless animals were experiencing winter’s harsh bite and even some snow in some parts of Texas. Stanley was one of those outdoor kitties, if you can imagine!

Friends of Shadow Cats saw Stanley outside just before Christmas Day, a new face in the neighborhood. Because they were unsure of his situation, they made sure to trap him and take him in for a checkup. He was in great health, except for some ear mites, and was released shortly after. They assumed that Stanley surely must be an owned cat.

But Stanley stuck around.

As wintertime magic faded, and people began wrapping up and putting away Christmas lights and decorations, Stanley remained. The tiniest inklings of buds emerged from the soil soon after, flowering into brilliant and beloved bluebonnets. Still, Stanley remained. The heat of Texas summer began trickling in. People blew up their pool floaties, applied their sunscreen, and soaked in sunbeams not unlike our cats who adore it so very much. And still…Stanley remained.

They began to think that Stanley wasn’t an owned cat at all, and if he was, that he must’ve been left behind. The healthy boy they met that fateful Christmas faded into a gaunt, sickly cat, no matter how much they fed him. He used to be indifferent when presented with food, and soon gobbled up everything they had to offer. They trapped him, then, and took him in to be evaluated again. Stanley had a persistent fever, and it was clear that he needed more care than he could receive as a community cat.

Thankfully for us and for Stanley, he recovered beautifully in our care. He filled out again, and soon became the talk of the town around the sanctuary. Stanley…marched to the beat of his own drum, you might say! Independent to his core, he wasn’t particularly concerned with whatever your plans were for him, and he certainly wasn’t going to be bossed around by other cats!

His kingly energy was matched only by a scowl that would send the bravest of cats skittering away with the stereotypical Halloween arch. But, to his credit…that was just Stanley’s default expression! Stanley suffered from a severe case of RHS—Resting Hiss Face. He wasn’t upset, or angry…he just was! His fixed frown rivaled Queen Elizabeth II’s (when she deployed it). It was just one of his quirks, and we absolutely adored his grumpy expression. It was part of his charm. He also had the Olympic Gold Medical for peeing the longest distance, but we won’t get into that story.

Stanley was just a character. As he settled into Sanctuary life, he also decided of his own volition that he would be the neighborhood’s alarm clock. Perhaps he’d been raised by a band of Roosters; he certainly took after them. At dawn, he’d sound off, alerting everyone that it was time to rise and shine. Maybe just a ploy to be fed earlier, as cats often do, but we appreciated the effort nonetheless. The neighbors…? We’re not so sure.

Stanley LOVED to be outside! He loved to perch on the shelves of the old sanctuary and watch the birds go by. He was a lone-wolf type as a younger kitty, so his outside time was important to him. As he grew older, we watched Stanley really blossom. He went from allowing us a few pets to actively seeking laps. You would go to pet him, and he’d instantly start purring enough that you’d feel the vibration against your hand. Nobody had it on their respective bingo cards that tough boy Stanley would turn into such a lover, but it happened regardless of our plans, as life often does.

Stanley loved to dress up for the holidays and pose for photos. He had the sweetest, tiniest little meow despite his tough guy exterior. He made peace with his roommates in his older years and even formed bonds with them. Violet, our Wild Side tripod, absolutely adored Stanley and would constantly follow him, lean on him, and be generally up in his business. Stanley didn’t know what to do about it most of the time…but we think our old man really secretly loved it. He was the team captain of Wild Side in our first team-based Shadow Cats on Parade fundraiser, and he was a snack taster in our March Snackness Smackdown. He was really a temptations connoisseur…we trusted his opinion!

Stanley lived a beautiful, full life at Shadow Cats. He formed bonds, he loved and was loved, and over time, he softened his street cat ways, showing us just how sweet he could be. We feel eternally grateful to have borne witness to his incredible progress, the beauty of a life that once hid in the shadows coming into the light. Stanley made us laugh; he made our hearts warm. Every shade of emotion was felt with Stanley over the course of so many years, with so many people. Through changes, through seasons, Stanley remained.

He remained…with us.

But all is taken by the passage of time. Sweet Stanley grew older every year as we all do, and in the last year, he began to feel his age. Stanley slowed down, living a more peaceful, quiet life. Slowly, Stanley began to have the medical issues you’d expect to have with an aging cat. Over time, standard issues transformed in ways that let us know Stanley’s body was fading with the passage of time. IBD turned into GI lymphoma, small infections became harder to overcome, and fluid began to accumulate around his heart.

We knew that the final gift we could give Stanley, after giving him years and years of a beautiful life, was the gift of a peaceful passing. Though there were no twinkling Christmas lights at the end of his story as existed in its beginning, he had long since become a light in our lives.

There is no greater pain than the pain of absence, but it is matched in equal measure by the pride and privilege felt at being touched by such a special being. Surrounded by those who loved him the most, Stanley was held in the arms that cared for him at the end of his life. Those same arms held him as he passed into the beyond, carried on wings of magnificent white to match the shade of his sweetest paws.

Now, Stanley stands at the first step of the rainbow bridge. Across the way sprawls an endless meadow, speckled in flowers and sunbeams that stretch on into eternity. Stanley looks upon the faces of so many friends, so many soft blinks and sweet chirps. Heidi, whom he just guided into the beyond, waits to return the favor. He strides into forever in a form free of cancer, free of the burdens of age, free of pain. The trees canopy overhead, and through them filters the most beautiful golden light. He curls beneath a fine sunbeam, warmed in body and soul at the fullness of life he lived, and watches the birds chirping and fluttering their wings overhead with a softer look than his stern expression has ever allowed.

Thank you to Stanley’s amazing sponsors, Carmen T & Robert M, Shannon M, Reiko G, Susan F, and Catherine M. Thank you to the amazing volunteers who helped Stanley evolve into the wonderful lap cat he became in his old age. Thank you to the incredible staff who nursed Stanley through every phase of his life and earned his eternal love and gratitude. Thank you to Vista Vet for providing his amazing care. Thank you to everyone who ever loved this sweet, silly cat despite the fierceness of his expression.

We love you, Stanley. We always will.

Stanley had 5 Sponsors

Carmen Tym & Robert Marsa

Shannon Mackintosh Murdock

Reiko Graham

“In memory of Riley”
-Susan Fisher-

Catherine Mustoe

In Memory of Percy    3/20/2023 – 6/29/2025

Our shadow cats find their way to us through so many different avenues and outlets, but there is usually a strong common denominator. Some looked in the eyes of a cat in need and thought, “This cat deserves more in life.”

Percy, or Percival Von Mewton, if we’re going by government name, was saved this way.

Percy came to us in March of 2025 after we received a plea for help from his kindhearted rescuer. She normally considered herself a dog person, but Percy was just special. She saved him from being attacked by dogs and quickly found Percy to be charming, sweet, and deserving of a chance.

As so often happens, when taken in to be evaluated, euthanasia was suggested. Percy was significantly emaciated and feline leukemia positive. But his rescuer looked in those beautiful green eyes, pleading for just a chance, and decided to find another outcome for him.

That’s when he headed to Shadow Cats!

Percy was still quite skinny when he joined us, but he was bright-eyed, chirpy, and so sweet. We were all taken in by his cute, chubby muzzle, those sweet eyes, and his persevering attitude. Percy had overcome so much adversity over the course of his short life, but we knew that life at Shadow Cats meant something could finally change for him.

Percy spent most of his time when he first joined Cookie’s Place ignoring the other cats in favor of the food bowl. Our former street cat was at serious risk of growing sideways…and we, of course, let him. He’d gone long enough starving; he deserved to have his fill! We tried to balance out the extra calories with a conservative workout regime…mostly consisting of chasing the string wand toys. Those were his absolute favorite, though Percy was happy enough to play with anything.

Percy was definitely more of a people’s cat than a cat’s cat, we found. He’d chirp when he saw you, fixing you with that soft, sweet gaze that beckoned a hand for scritches. He also loved a good lap, and we were always happy to give one to him! But despite our Percy trying so hard to persevere, his feline leukemia began meddling.

Percy struggled with cyclical, intermittent fevers. It was hard for him to be his usual bright, chirpy self, and he began to become stressed by the presence of other cats. We decided it was in his best interest to give him some proper decompression time in ISO, and then in our breakroom with us when his fevers persisted. We performed diagnostics and took him in for evaluations, but nothing was found on exam at the time. The mystery of Percy’s strange, cyclical fevers wasn’t solved. Our Veterinarian had a growing suspicion that leukemia had developed when it tends to and sprouted cancer within him, and we agreed. We treated him with a plethora of medications in different classifications, hoping that something would provide Percy the chance to overcome once again.

We knew that all we could do was give him the absolute best for as long as we could. There was no greater joy than walking into the break room in the morning to be greeted by Percy coming out of his little overnight den. He’d chirp a “Good morning!” and expect to be fed promptly. We may or may not have given him lots of extra meals during this time…but he deserved every little treat he got, and we’d do it all again.

We spent our lunch breaks together, and we were delighted by how adorably snuggly he was. He was happy to just sit and “be” together. He was especially happy if you happened to have chicken! Or waffle fries. He’d climb up your torso, reaching as you held your lunch overhead. Could you blame us for succumbing to that precious gaze and giving him a bite or two…or three? We may or may not have lost count! It was just impossible to resist that adorable, high-pitched, soft little meow.

He sprawled out in the cat tree, he snuggled in soft beds, he enjoyed the sunbeams of the small catio. Until one day, Percy wasn’t his usual self. He wasn’t chirping, he wasn’t looking for a lap. He seemed uncomfortable, with labored breathing. Our hearts grew heavy as we realized the reality of the situation. We immediately rushed him to the vet, where they performed an ultrasound and found a cancerous mass on his spleen.

We knew we had to give him one last gift, the hardest one to give.

Held in loving arms and being petted from every direction, we showered Percy with forehead kisses. He relaxed in our arms and purred so loudly you could feel the vibration against your skin. Percy was at peace; he knew love, a full belly, the safety of a home…how good life could be. Percy left this world softly, with ease, a petal on the wind carried to the highest of heights. We wept, our hearts broken, wishing the thing we always do…that we could have had more time.

But the time Percy did have with us mattered. In that time, in this space, together…he mattered. He knew the comforts of a life he may never have experienced otherwise, away from the harshness of the streets, where someone looked into those sweet eyes and decided he deserved so much more than he’d gotten.

Now, he stands at the first steps of the rainbow bridge. Across the way, faces familiar and faces new stand to greet him. So many Cookie’s Place kittens before him wait to guide him into the endless green, the forever sunbeams, the flowing streams, and fluttering butterflies of eternity. There, he can run. There, he can know freedom. He can know an existence free of pain, free of fevers, free of cancer, free of leukemia, of burdens and predators. We just know that with a little feline smirk, with that chubby muzzle, our sweet Percival Von Mewton is beelining for the food bowl.

Thank you to Percy’s amazing sponsors, Diane G, Connie C, Samantha H, Whitney M, and Andrea Z. Thank you to the volunteers who helped this sweet boy get his energy out with generous playtime. Thank you to our staff for sticking with Percy through thick and thin, for giving him the love, attention, and medical care he so desperately needed. Thank you to Vista Vet and CTVSH for providing top-notch medical care. Thank you to anyone who looked at this sleek little panther and couldn’t help but be amazed by how stunningly gorgeous he was.

We love you, Percy. We always will.

Percy had 5 Sponsors

“In memory of Velvet and Dulcie Marie”
-Diane Ewart Grabowski

Connie Cheatham

Samantha Haselwood

Whitney Magnuson

Andrea Zabcik