Since we live way out in the country and have a decent amount of land around us, I feel safe letting the kitties go outside during the day. Of course, we have scary large creatures in the area - owls, cougars, foxes, bobcats, coyotes.... but as long as the kids stay in the yard, they're pretty safe and I always bring everyone inside when it starts getting dark.

Of course, some of the kitties are not interested in staying in the yard and they go wandering outside the fence to see what else is in this neighborhood. It only took a couple of times of going out in a panic, not being able to find someone and then scouring the neighborhood in increasing tears, imaging the worst, for me to decide that I had to have a way to know where they were so I could at least have a reasonable shot at finding them.

I tried a number of blinking, beeping collars that were farely useless - the tags were so huge the cats wouldn't wear them, or the tag would beep on the cat, driving them crazy or the range was a silly 50 feet or less. None of these would help in the least if one kitty went outside of the yard and onto the next or further property. We currently have two wanderers: Larry

Larry, my gorgeous wandering Maine Coon

And Blinky:

Blinky, my wandering Bengal

Then I tried the LoCATor collar by Com-Spec. There are a few things I wish were different, but for the most part, these collars and the tracker have saved me countless hours (seriously!!) of hiking up and down the road calling out aimlessly, and have saved me so much emotion. I would get so worked up, imagining that the kitty was lost, gone, eaten, never coming home, never snuggling, afraid, hungry.... I would devolve into tears and be an emotional wreck for the rest of the day/night until said kitty showed up (usually looking quite smug....).

Here's how it works: Each kitty has a collar that has a quarter sized, 1/2 inch thick button on it. The button contains a watch battery and has the radio frequency electronic transmitter inside. It doesn't make any noise, no light, and it weighs nearly nothing, so the cats are fine with wearing it. They're a little pricey, so we only have two, but we only have the two wanderers, so as long as everyone else stays good, we're fine.

So in the morning, these two put on their collars and I tighten up the battery compartments and check to make sure they're working, and off they go into the outdoors, being wild Serengeti hunters. When I need to check on them, I take out a (rather large) directional receiver. Each kitty has a different RF code (mine are 60 and 65), so I turn the receiver to 65 (Larry), turn it on and go out on the deck. I start it on "Medium" range and if it beeps loud, I know he's right around the deck, somewhere, safe and fine. If it beeps quietly, I turn it up to "High". I slowly do a full turn on the deck and the receiver will beep louder in the direction of the collar, so I can narrow down quickly which direction he is and start heading that way. As I walk closer to him, the beeping will get louder until I get within visual range and can find him and bring him back home.

The best part is that the "High" setting is really quite long range. I can hear a very faint beep when he's a good half mile or more away, and it goes through hills, trees, buildings... This area is very hilly, with a ton of trees, but I can track him extremely successfully even when he's so far away, over several hills, down the ravine, etc. Most times, when he hears the beeping as I get closer, he comes out and runs to me!

I have found Blinky way too far away many times with her tracking collar as well. One time she was trapped inside a neighbor's garage. As long as the tracker says she's in the yard, I let her stay out and have fun, but when the tracker indicates she's gone outside of the fence, I track her down and bring her back home.

I'm hoping (silly, I know) that it's training her to stay in the yard. So far, I haven't noticed that part working, but at least I can continue to go get her when she strays too far and bring her back. And really, in mountainous country like this, if I didn't have the tracker to at least get me started in the right direction, there would be no way in the world to know where she had gone.

As it turns out, Larry found a horse about a half mile from here and seems to have fallen in love with her. He goes to visit her nearly every time he goes out. The only way I know about this is that I have tracked him numerous times to that property's horse shanty, so now when he isn't close by, I immediately turn the tracker to "High" and point it in the direction of his horsie, and usually, sure enough, the thing gives me a faint beep. I smile and head off down the road to retrieve my little boy from his horsie love.

Unfortunately, I don't have photos of Larry with his horsie. The property is posted so, if it weren't for the LoCATor, we'd never know he was in there.

The name of the collar is the LoCATor, and you can get it from their website: http://www.com-spec.com/thecatlocator/ It has saved me hours of hunting and worrying and I truly love my LoCATor!

Peace, Joy

When I first went to the house where the neighbor said a litter of kittens was living under the deck, I had already captured one of them out on the road. I knew she was a beautiful little girl, but had only seen a fleeting glimpse of one other kitten - a little black one. Here is the first one I caught:

Little Winky right after I caught her.

I sat quietly off the deck, waiting to see if any of the rest of the litter would emerge. The lady there said there were four more! They were living wild under the deck with their mother, but the mother hadn't been seen for a week or so, so the lady called me to see if I could catch them and take care of them. Kittens. In trouble. I wasted no time in going there with my safe traps.

After a bit, I saw a little stripey kitten coming out of hiding. They were about 3 months old by then. I stayed very still and saw the little black one I had seen before. They trundled up onto the deck and I was taken aback at the striking markings, the beautiful color, the lean muscular Serengeti look of these kittens. Wow. I was in love!!

I set the traps and waited. That evening all four came up to investigate the wonderfully stinky food I had set in the traps. All four were breathtakingly beautiful! How does such beautiful kittens happen in the wild? That evening and the next morning, I was successful in trapping all four kittens. Never did see the mother. I brought them home to the dismay of my partner who kept asking "What are you going to do with a whole litter of kittens???" I could only reply "Love them."

Four kittens looking at bird tv!

Within a few days, the kittens had started to adapt to their new lifestyle and trust the Food Giver, and my partner had succumbed to their beauty and sweetness.

As they got comfortable with me (which was surprisingly fast, given they were feral), they would get into more and more wonderfully photogenic poses, perfect to make into a beautiful calendar for the new year. It's not only the Bengals, but also has some of our other rescues as well, including the wonderful Maine Coons. Please take a look and buy one for the coming year. ALL proceeds go to supporting rescued kittehs. Can't get any better than that! Here is the link to our new Kitten Love Calendar 2012.

Thank you! Joy

After we found and rescued our recent litter of kittens from under a deck of a rented house a little ways up the road by the mailboxes, we were stunned at how striking their features and markings were. We looked into what breed they might be and found that they showed all the signs of being pure blood Bengal kittens. Of course, being abandoned and feral, we had no papers for them, but they're pure Bengal to us!

One of the signs of Bengals is that they love water. I found out it's true the easy way. I was out watering our deck plants and two of the girls ran up to play. They loved chasing the stream, trying to bite the drops. It was all great fun! They'll even now come running when I call out "Who wants to play with Mr. Firehose!"

Here's a fun video of two girls, Winky and Zot.

In 1985, I went with my mom to our vet's office in Indiana. We were there for regular shots for some of my mom's kitties. We always have had numerous cats and I had recently adopted a tiny little striped grey girl, naming her "Crystal". But while I was waiting, I looked up and at the top of a tall bookcase was a regal and strikingly beautiful full grey Korat cat. He sat tall and surveyed his room. I was told that he was a bit over a year old and had been abandoned, so was their "shop kitty". I was smitten. I asked if I could see him, but they said he never really comes down from his perch. I sat back down, but continued to look up at him and smile.

After about 10 minutes, he stood up, stretched lazily, jumped down the stepped pathway and walked straight over to me. The office assistant was stunned! I picked him up and he sat right down in my lap. I guess I had passed his test and was his now. We took him home with the others, and in homage to a fantastic movie, I named him "Buckaroo Banzai". Mostly because I liked saying "It's Buckaroo Banzai! The latest issue!!" He didn't especially appreciate the antics of little Crystal, to which I'd have to remind him "Don't you hurt that kitten..." but he never did. He let her climb all over him and he'd grumble and threaten her, but when he thought I wasn't looking, I would see him wiggle his tail for her, or give her a hug and lick her ears.

When I moved from my mom's, they both went with me. And then across the country to Oregon. When I began doing my artwork full time, I would play CDs and sing along while I worked. One afternoon, I put on a new Art Garfunkle disc. Partway through, the song I Only Have Eyes for You came on. I was upstairs in the loft and heard Buckaroo Banzai jump down from his chair, run up the stairs and he jogged right over to me, very insistent. I picked him up and continued to sing along and he started purring and drooling, wrapped his arms around my neck and buried his head under my chin. I wrapped my arms around him and started swaying with him while I sang. He was so happy. I had never seen him have this type of reaction to anything. When the song ended, he released himself and curled up on my lap while I continued working and singing other songs that came up on the disc changer.

I figured he just needed some hugs and didn't think about it anymore, until a few weeks later when that song came up on the disc changer again. He did the exact same thing! He came from a different part of the house and insisted that I pick him up and hold him. Not to any other song by other artists or Garfunkle, just THAT song, by any artist. It became "Our Song". It was so predictable and exceptional that I could show my then-husband and guests what he did. It was beautiful and I loved that Banzai would dance with me to our song.

Years later, I left Oregon with my kitties and could show my new partner about Banzai's favorite song. When Banzai was about 14 or so, he started going deaf, so didn't hear when the song would come on. I would stop whatever I was doing, go and get him and hold him so he could feel my throat vibrate to his favorite song. We'd have our dance while I sang to him. He would wrap his arms tight around my neck and burrow his head under my chin up against my throat. It was clear he knew.

At the end of his life, as he passed away from me, I held him close and sang his favorite song to him with his head up against my throat so he could hear me. He purred and then passed away. That was in 2000, and still every time I hear his song, I stop, close my eyes and feel his arms around my neck, his head under my chin, his purr. I miss you tremendously, Buckaroo Banzai. I'll play our song.

Everything. A person's name stays with them for their entire life and long after they've departed this continuum that they share with us for too short a time. Choosing one is a huge responsibility. Choosing the right one is daunting at times. It has to "fit" and, if you're of the creative and imaginative type, like us, it has to be interesting. At its very best, a name for an animal companion is a one or two word look into who they are, what they mean to you and how they came into your life. It says as much about you as it does them. A tall order.

I've had cat companions since I was a little kid, after Dad convinced me that a cat would be better than the dog I wanted. You know the dynamic. Other kids had dogs. I wanted one. I'm sure I resisted but I'm more than sure now that I'm glad that he won out. The cats I had back then were from the shelter. Go and choose one and bring it home. Always boys. No girl cats for me! I's a kid thing. I'd learn to care for them and they'd learn to care for me. I had about eight or so. Only one at a time; and that was fine. They're all out under the apple tree in the homestead back yard. Most of them were done in by not respecting cars. I had my fair share of grief at an early age because of this. Still, I always got my parents to take me back to the shelter to find another companion that I could care for and be immeasurably rewarded in the process. All part of growing up. Their names at that time in my life were of the more simple variety.

Once I set out on my own, having a cat just didn't fit into the picture anymore. I was in apartments that notoriously don't allow pets or traveling extensively with the racing team. Years passed. Time flies when you're having fun, you know. Living in a penthouse apartment in an old Victorian and, among other things, taking care of the owner's heating systems in the many houses they renovated and being the construction engineer on a racing trimaran he wanted to build, a little scrawny Tortoiseshell kitten showed up in a rain storm at their back door—drenched to the bone; determined that this is where she was supposed to be. Stayed there for hours looking up to the door window and calling. Already in the mode of working in my home studio, we were the obvious choice to take her in... just until we find a home for her. Right.

Then came the Naming. Whether you want to acknowledge it at the time or not, the Naming is your clue that the altruistic notion that you're going to adopt a person out "to a good home" is just lip service. You already have provided the best home there is. That's why she chose it. Duh.

For a few days, we went 'round and 'round with names. Usually, if you wait long enough, a cat will name itself by acting or looking like something or someone. This little girl arrived in the pouring rain at the back door of the house we were in. Orphaned, Annie was the eventual obvious choice. My first cat in a long, long time had arrived and filled a void I didn't know I had.

A while later came Comet. A Korat-Norwegian Forest Cat mix that I saved from the animal shelter in Big Bear, California. When I lived in Southern California, a friend and I went up in the mountains every so often to this little town at Big Bear Lake to gather architectural antiques for her shop. She suggested once that we go across the lake to the animal shelter on the north shore to see who was there. I resisted all day but, at the last minute, relented. It always tears my heart out going into those places and seeing the pleas for help. I want to take them all. Most were frantic; reaching through the cage door, pawing the air. You can't tell me that they don't know what's going on. One little guy caught my eye as he caught mine, then his green eyes looked down at the cage floor again; dejected. He just sat there like that for the time I watched him. No crying, no attempts at escape. I got the feeling that he couldn't understand why he was being subjected to this. I watched him for a while longer and then we said our good wishes to everyone and left to consider.

Next day, we returned just before closing. He worked on me all night and all day from afar. I asked to see the grey boy and they brought him out. He summarily ignored me and I said: "I'll take him." As the little guy stumbled across objects on the counter, the person taking care of us began filling out the paperwork and murmured: "Good thing. This was his last day."

Reality and shock descended upon me. I knew in the back of my mind what the situation is but tried to ignore it at the same time. I was back in the "no pets" housing situation, so taking this one person was a gamble already. I was powerless to do anything more for all of those still waiting for someone to come along and knew that one of them would meet my little guy's fate in his place. Maybe not today, but soon. Saddened beyond belief, I took solace in that I could save one little life; but those others haunt me to this day.

Why the name Comet? He was a dark cool grey, had a long & bushy flowing tail, every so often he'd blast through the house & out into the kitchen and leap into the sink. He made no audible sound when he purred. In order to tell if he was purring you had to touch him—just like any object in space. So, I had two main clues: similar bodies that travel through our solar system and a brand of scouring cleanser. Comet it was!

It was he who taught me about cats communicating by transmitting and reading brainwaves. Every time he had a vet appointment, he'd disappear. The place I was living in at the time was an upstairs single room over a shop in Carmel, so he had nowhere to go; but he'd be gone, just the same. I began to make sure that there weren't any outward clues as to what the plan for the day was. No carrier. Nothing out of the ordinary in the day's routine. When it came time to scoop him up — gone. Never did find out where he hid. He'd just suddenly appear. Maybe he had an invisibility cloak or performed Mak'tar on me. Whatever it was, it was downright remarkable to witness.

And that's how he summoned me back to save him on that all-important day. I'm glad I was tuned in.

Next came Aurora - my first pedigree cat. A Silver Patched Tabby named for her resemblance to the Borealis display. But, until then, here's a far from complete shortlist of notable names in no particular order:

• Admiral Akbar - we couldn't get him to go into the trap. Cow-spotted; looks like he's in dress whites.
• Rubeus - he was a Maine Coon - BIG and hairy. Renamed from Tom after we rescued him from a hideous existence. Better place to live - better name to go with it. He really liked it.
• Moe - a smooth black Shorthair Maine Coon.
• Larry - one good Stooge deserves another. Somehow, just seems to fit him.
• Luna - 'cuz she's craaaaaaaazzzzy. Our Dark Side of the Moon all black Maine Coon. Named before we learned of Luna in Harry Potter but fits in with all of the others now.
• Dobby - a very big Maine Coon who looks like Dobby.
• Zot - has Harry Potter scars on her Marbled Bengal sides.
• Winky - Dobby's Marbled Bengal house elf companion.
• Blinky - originally heading for Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod but Zot had already been named. They're Marbled Bengal triplets.
• Silicon - a light grey metallic Spotted Bengal.
• Carbon Fiber (Carbon for short) - a black on black Marbled Bengal; a miniature Black Leopard. We work in carbon fiber in our artwork and when you see him only in the direct sunlight, that's what he looks like.
• Pancreas - he's Abyssinian and so should have a Greek name.
• Albedo - she was a black and white. Our scientist friends at JPL loved this.
• Lilli - because she was Lilliputian.
• Shadow - as a kitten, she followed Joy everywhere.
• Big Sir - named on the way home from Deetjen's Big Sur Inn, where we got him. Lived up to his name. Used to terrorize dogs.
• Roadside - she showed up one day at the studio, not long after we moved here ourselves, took a nap in the sun on the west deck and stayed.

Our lives are so much more rich because we have rescued families of Maine Coon and Bengal kittens but this first post is about a different kind of rescue. Sometimes, it is difficult to know who is the stray.

We have a number of breeds as "singletons"; most of whom arrived here on their own, determined that this is a nice place and they want to stay. We, of course, resist; making sure that they aren't just visiting from a nearby home. We don't feed anyone unless it begins to look like they are in distress. If a person shows up repeatedly, we watch them to see how they are doing with the other kids and note their return frequency and how long it continues. During this first contact period, we put notices up and query local veterinarian hospitals to see if someone has gotten lost. There are other houses on this hill and we query them about new arrivals. Once all of these conditions have been exhausted, we'll begin feeding and getting to know the person more.

Occasionally, in the case of very skittish individuals, it takes coaxing them into a humane trap, so that we can get a look at them and see if they need medical attention. Spay/neuter is also in the plan if this hasn't been performed prior to their showing up. It always puzzles us when someone arrives and the procedure has been done and we are relieved if that is the case. Males are not so bad but females... the procedure is expensive. We obtain vouchers when possible to help with the cost but it still is a hit to the finances. With each new arrival the additional load on the food and litter is also considerable. But the Big Question always persists...

"Where did you come from, how did you find us and how long have you been traveling?"

We are not in a very accessible location on top of a mountain up a long and winding road from the nearest town 10+ miles away. Unless someone is driving out here and dropping them off, walking here is the only remaining conclusion.

But why here? Why us? Why so many? We don't have a hoard of cats, by any means, but they arrive at what we would call an unusually elevated rate. I never kept track but my guess is about one every 18 months on average. I have long known that cats can read brainwaves. This will be the subject of another post but I would wager that there are two really bright "cats" transmitting from here and people looking for help know that this is a good place to come.

This ranch came with a cat. The previous owner abandoned her here in an empty house. A local realtor was feeding her and she had a cat door in one of the bedrooms, so she could seek shelter. I found a bed and food/water in a closet when we first visited. Broke my heart. What kind of person would do this?

Didn't see her until the second visit. I was just emerging from a little building we call "The Shop" and heard a cry coming from the house up the hill. She was coming down an oak from the roof and jogged down the path toward me, talking and talking. She got to about 10 feet away and realized that I wasn't her companion. Stopped, tail lowered, turned and slowly walked back up the path with her head down, dejected. I could feel it. Tore my heart out that someone would do this to a loving person that obviously cared for them and missed them.

Couldn't get anywhere near her until the fourth or fifth visit. We were sitting on the deck at dusk, waiting for night to fall so we could see what it is like out here at different times of day. She came tentatively up alongside Joy and didn't seem too afraid. Joy coaxed her up on her lap and within a couple of minutes she was under Joy's coat, her arms outstretched around Joy's waist; purring and drooling. She was so starved for companionship that it overcame her fear of new humans in her territory. That we came back more than once must have meant something. We'd brought at least a glimmer of hope, happiness and caring back into someone's life. From that moment on, this was known as "The Cat Ranch"; in order to identify which of the properties we were discussing while making our choice. This certainly raised the bar on which property we would choose. It had a built-in stray.

She had existed here, alone, for a year. During that period, she had reverted to being partially wild in temperament, due to no interaction with humans. I'd also guess that she didn't trust humans anymore and I can't blame her. There were times when she would exhibit unexpected aggression. Nailed me in the eye when I got too close in the dark once. Other times she would fall into that grateful purr/drool and be so content.

She passed away a few years later, here in her home that we were fortunate enough to secure for her. She is buried on the hill overlooking the valley that she roamed and guarding the house that she protected for so long and her new family within it for the short time that we knew her. She comes by to visit every so often. We see glimpses out of the corner of our eye and some of the new arrivals exhibit traits that only she had. Still, we miss her terribly but know that she is waiting on the other side of Rainbow Bridge.

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