MSI Press Blog

  Today we remember the ones who walked beside us, slept near us, and loved us with a purity that only animals can offer. Their paws may no longer echo in our homes, but their spirits remain stitched into our lives. 🕊️ Murjan, our gentle warrior, defied lymphoma for 3.5 years—nearly reaching age 19. His quiet strength and enduring presence were a daily grace. 🕊️ Intrepid, his brave pal, was struck by the same cruel disease at the same time. He fought fiercely for three months before joining his beloved staff, Carl, in rest—both taken by cancer, both remembered for their boldness and joy. Intrepid left us at just 11, but his legacy of fun and fearlessness lives on. 🕊️ Snyezhka, radiant and resilient, battled four kinds of cancer before a sudden saddle thrombus took her in the night at age 7. Her absence was felt deeply by her devoted companion, Happy Cat, who searched for her daily until his own passing from a brain tumor a year later. 🕊️ And Bobolink—our long-haired black beaut...

  IN MEMORIAM On August 24, 2022, Sula, the beloved parish cat at Old Mission San Juan Bautista, passed away quietly in her carrier as she prepared to spend her last working day at the Mission. For about 15 years, based on the estimates of parishioners who have known her since she appeared at the Mission as a kitten, she has spent her time at Masses, exploring the gardens, and in the Gift Shop where she lived until recently, moving in with parishioners, her godparents, when covid struck and spending Sundays on duty at the Mission. She brought excitement to scores of visiting children, peace to parishioners during Mass, and healing to the hurting. As a survivor of multiple forms of cancer, including skin cancer that took her ears years ago, she served as a role model to cancer patients. Visitors came not only to visit the Mission but also to meet Sula. On her Face Book page, she had over 1000 followers, including fans from more than a dozen states and many countries. Sula, a “divine...

  In last week's Caturday post, I shared our death watch over Happy Cat . At 11:52 pm, I updated the watch. At that time, we lost Happy Cat. He had been dozing on the bed beside my paraplegic daughter, Fawn. Suddenly, he urgently scrambled to get into her arms. Then, with two big, agonizing gulps of air and a shudder, he crossed the Rainbow Bridge while cuddled in Fawn's arms. We hope he is now cavorting with his pals Snyezhka,  Bobolink ,  Intrepid , and  Murjan  who crossed before him. Happy Cat taught us some important in his last days, some important for cats and some important as well for humans: Near the very end, cats sense when they are going to die, and they prepare by looking for dark places. Happy Cat would go into cubbies that he was never interested in before. (It's a tip-off for owners.)  Near the end, owners sometimes are allowed a sense that their journey to the Rainbow Bridge is reaching its goal. I felt an otherworldly presence the day bef...

  Bobolink looking up at his owner in pain, fear, trust, and love at a vet visit. It started three months ago. Our feather-duster-tailed, aqua-blue-eyed, quietly affectionate, FIV cat, Bobolink began losing weight really fast. Blood tests showed autoimmune hemolytic anemia . Incurable. Marginally treatable. Pills from VCA, ointments and powders from Chewy, and specially compounded liquids from Sherman’s Apothecary did little to compensate for a worrisome and continuing red blood cell count of 13 (28 is considered the lower limit). After a couple months, Bobolink had regained the weight he had lost, but his weight and appetite fluctuated by the day. He became my lap cat, chair cat (he fit nicely beside me in Carl’s big lazy-boy), and bed cat, following me everywhere as if attached. Then, two weeks ago, his weight dipped very low, and he lost interest in food. One day, I left the room and returned to find him lying in a puddle of pee and looking up with scared, confused eyes. VCA in...

  Happy Cat in one of his dark places Happy Cat's days of valiantly fighting his brain tumor are drawing to an end. We are now on death watch for him as he valiantly trues to stave off death even though he knows it is hovering over him, calling. Happy Cat was one of those cats who never asked for anything, not even for a home. He was an alley cat, and he would wait until all the other street cats had finished their turn at the handouts from local residents, including us, before he would approach and finish up the remnants. We got to know Happy Cat from afar, seeing him every day hunkered down under the juniper bush, watching the other cats eat. (One of those cats was Snyezhka , his pal, whom we captured and adopted.) He would only come eat after they were done and he thought we were gone. Then, he became very ill. Something prompted him to trust us to help, and we found him spread-eagled outside our second-story entrance door one morning as we were departing for work. Cat lifted i...