The background on this picture is smeared, because I used it as my Windows desktop for a while.

Bathtub tag.

it was funny
at the time.


Stella Blue

July 10, 2008

I have said that I will know when the time comes,
and I will know when the time is right,
and I will see it in her eyes.

July 8, I arranged for 'Kitty Kevorkian' to come by.

I then pulled the cushions from the living room couch so I could sleep on the floor in the guest room,
since she's taken over the traditional pile of clean laundry on the hide-a-bed
and I didn't want to disturb her.

Naturally, being a cat, she finally decided to get up and move.

So she went into the living room and spent a half hour getting a drink of water from the fish bowl,
then stared at the couch until I put the cushions back, so she could sleep on my lap.
This was the first time she'd moved in many days, other than heroic trips to the cat box. (Even those trips required effort on her part, and a bit of effort on my part to clean the carpet on the path back.)
The guest bed, and the pile of clean clothes she's been sleeping on
for the last few weeks, smell faintly of cat urine.
I have no problem with that.

I've been hand feeding her for months.

I went to the local fish market for a selection of fresh Tuna,
fresh wild Alaskan Salmon, sea scallops, fresh Swordfish
and those little frozen shrimps she's loved since she was a kitten.
(I know that fresh swordfish can potentially have worm eggs and should be cooked,
but I'm really not worried about that right now.)

We ate a lot of good fish.
We stayed up all night and talked.

I will always love you, Stella Blue.
Goodbye, fuzzy cat.


Stella's Song
(to the tune of "Turkey in the Straw"
I sang this to her every day since she was a kitten,
and I sang it to her as the light left her eyes.)

You're a fuzzy wuzzy kitty and your name is Stella Blue
if I was a fuzzy kitty I'd be fuzzy like you
you're a fuzzy wuzzy kitty and your name is Stella Blue
fuzzy wuzzy is a kitty, fuzzy wuzzy is you.

Fuzzy is a kitty, fuzzy wuzzy woo.
Fuzzy is a kitty, fuzzy is you.
You're a fuzzy wuzzy kitty you're a fuzzy wuzzy woo,
fuzzy wuzzy is a kitty, fuzzy wuzzy is you.

The k/c Stella Blue

back to my Home page


Back to Home

Here's a kitten pic
from 1995,
with teddy bear.

And one from 1996.
She was ticked off at me here,
because I was making her
come inside at bedtime.
She was still a kitten,
and I was teaching her to survive.

Stella Blue was born in May 1995.

She's a Himalayan with a bit of extra Siamese.

I think.

She doesn't say "meow."
She issues commands.

In most of these pictures, she has an ear
rotated directly in my direction.
Making her ears rotate has been a constant source
of amusement for me over the last 13 years.

I'm easily amused.


Stella is named after a Jerry Garcia / Robert Hunter song.

Stella Blue's Aunt Sherpa --

In 2006 I was in Santa Barbara,
and took some pics of
Stella's Aunt Sherpa.

Sherpa is a really cool cat.
When I first met her in 1990, I said
"If I ever have another cat,
I want one just like her."

Be careful what you want,
you just might get it.

Here, Sherpa is 16 years old,
and doing just fine.

2003 --

Sitting on the fence.
She's 8 years old here, and she's becoming wise.

This one's a keeper.

Oct 2005

Ten Years old,
and just hanging out on the windowsill
in my office.

These days,
she stays inside
most of the time, and
that's fine with me.

I always wondered how I'd handle her
as she aged.
She loves to be free
and go outside.

When cats get to be this age, you need to start watching them for health problems.

Boxes are good.

Note the Chapman's book.
When I bought my boat,
I was thinking about a boat that would be safe for Stella
and really liked the aft door
which closed off the main cabin.

But, she hates the boat, and
she won't read any sailing books.

2002 - Sitting on the porch,
with her usual smile.

She knows I'm here.

She's a very happy cat.

She's the best cat
in the whole world.

I tell her this on a regular basis.

This cat does *not* have any problems with self esteem.

Fortunately, she has developed a "Been There, Done That" attitude about the outside world.
The cat box has always been there, waiting.

On July 10, 2008, Stella lost the battle with Pemphigus Foliaceus .

2006 --

This is a late summer picture, and Stella was developing an
allergic reaction to fleas, making her coat thin.

Her undercoat is so dense that I have rarely seen a flea.
However, I know they attack her every time she goes outside.

Advantage keeps them away, but it takes a few minutes for them to decide to drop off.

Despite Advantage, there were times when she'd go outside and be attacked by fleas so furiously that she ran back inside. I knew when she was attacked by fleas, because her normal "annoyed" tail twitch would migrate all the way
up her back.

I love Sherpa Cat.
She has her own song, too.

As a kitten, she had black seal markings,
just like Stella.


Sherpa left us in 2007,
at the ripe old age of 18.


Note the size of her paw.
Perhaps there is a genetic predisposition
to Pemphigus Foliaceus.
At the time I took this picture,
I really felt that she was in pain.
I thought she was just getting old.

(I wrote this section in 1997
, on her original web page, and it stands.)

She's a very happy cat.

She sleeps a lot,
but gets up every now and again
to do the usual cat stuff --
check out her territory,
and check up on me.

In the winter, she's really fuzzy.


She really enjoys ambushes,
and playing tag.

(1998? I kept this cheap concrete form
in the living room for ten years?)


As a kitten,
we bought her
a goldfish.

The bowl turned into her water bowl, and when the third round of fish died I just left the bowl on the coffee table for the rest of her life.

When she developed Pemphigus Foliaceus,
she got
a smaller one
so she didn't have to put her weight
on her toes.

Every summer,
she enjoys helping me make Killer Catnip bud.



Helping me work.

She has her own chair in my office, but really likes to sit on the staircase and watch me
through the door.

On the staircase, she can believe that I don't know I'm being observed, and can also watch the birdbath on the porch.

Not feeling well, but happy.
We thought we were in remission, but no.
(Actually, one can see a lesion on her lower right lip, making eating hurtful,
and one can see the tips of her claws as she was still unable to fully retract them.)

I put a big comforter on the end of the couch. She likes to sit there and watch me.
Her winter coat is normally gone by now, but her skin is not behaving normally,
and she's not being her normal fastidious self.


Once or twice a year,
she decides that the good chair in my office
belongs to her.

For the first ten years, it was a battle.
I'd kick her off, but if I got up for coffee she'd be back.

The phase only lasted a few weeks, though,
so finally I just let her have my chair
and I worked from *her* chair
until she rotated to her next spot.

I think she really enjoyed the battle for the chair,
and lost a bit of faith in me
when I stopped playing the game.


Watching a movie.

She enjoys action films.

Note her ear.

Making her ears rotate is fun.


Feathers are good.

After two days of thinking and drinking,
I came up with this:

Grief is a normal, human reaction.
Don't deny it.
Embrace it, experience it, wallow in it,
but don't forget that
grief is an opportunity for introspection.
When it passes, one is a deeper,
richer person.

It's important to examine the grief,
fit it into place within the context of one's life,
absorb it,
and keep moving forward.

But, never forget it.


I ate this, but she got a slice.)

I know that sounds weird, but I've "telecommuted" for the last 13 years,
and we spent a lot of time together. She is sorely missed.

In 1997, I set a video camera on a tripod and filmed an hour of Stella
napping on the coffee table in front of a burning fire.
I'd forgotten all about it, but recently burned it to DVD.
It's strange, but comforting, to sit on the boat, play it and read a book.

I will always love you, Stella Blue...
She is a cat, a good cat. Her eyes are bright and she fights well.
The sun is warm and it is good.
She has found a spot and it is a warm spot and it is good.

(Apologies to Hemingway, but no apologies needed to his cats.)