MSI Press Blog

 For a few decades, we have rescued feral cats. In fact, with only one exception, our "domestic" cats have been ferals that we brought inside to join other ferals, already domesticated, as part of a bonded cat family. Right now, we have five cats (alas, Murjan , the single non-feral cat we had, died from cancer last fall), all of whom get along pretty fabulously. Of course, all of that is easier said than done, and the bonding took time -- lots of it. Here are some of the things we did to create our cat family, some of which is not at all typical of what others have done, but it has worked for us. We don't trap the feral cats at all; we win them over and invite them in. We do this by feeding them a distance from the house and walking away, then moving the dish closer and closer to the house and walking less and less far away, until they are eating at our feet, at which point they will usually let us scooch or kneel beside them. To get to this point may take weeks. Getting...

  I have to start out by saying that our geriatric cat, Simone (age 16+), a street rescue at the age of two, has a great vet, but no vet is all-knowing or always right. Ten months ago, Simone developed a cyst on her back. It filled and drained, filled and drained. Then, it just filled, and her vet drained it -- twice. She told me I could drain it at home if it got too back (bigger than the size of a golf ball), but she did not want to do surgery. Eventually, as could be expected, the cyst, in its drained state, became infected. An antibiotic injection helped, but the infection did not totally disappear. Orbax did no good at all. The vet did not want to remove it surgically because of Simone's age, but having to clean a pus discharge every two hours just did not cut it as a long-term solution. I asked the vet what reason other than age she had for not removing the cyst; there were none. She thought that Simone would not survive surgery because she was so passive during her exams. Wh...

  Most people never live with a nineteen‑year‑old cat. I’ve lived with two. That alone is extraordinary. For a Himalayan, it borders on miraculous. But what astonishes me even more is how two cats could reach the same rare age and inhabit it as if they were living in different universes. Murjan: The Cat Who Filled the Room Murjan, my Turkish Van, was a force of nature from the moment he arrived. He didn’t walk through life — he announced himself through it. At nineteen, weighing less than five pounds after years of lymphoma and three and a half years of chemotherapy, he still: patrolled every room jumped on and off exam tables explored new vet offices like a tourist on holiday demanded his daily leash walk supervised every creature in the house communicated constantly, loudly, and with purpose He was alpha to the end — a cat who refused to surrender even as his body thinned to nothing. He left a footprint everywhere he went, and when he moved, he left a wake. Murjan didn’t age. He...

  Simone, pictured at a younger age, in the living room, a journey too far for her now. Meet Simone: 18 years old, blind, arthritic, cancer survivor, and still the undisputed queen of household communication. Long past the Himalayan warranty (10–15 years? Pfft), Simone has transcended feline expectations and now runs her domain from either her arthritic cat bed or the sleep number throne in my bedroom. Her meow? A soft, raspy whisper—like an old lady politely asking for tea. But don’t be fooled. That one sound carries a whole lexicon of meaning. We’ve learned to decode it based on her chosen location: 🥣 Food bowl + meow = “Kindly refill the buffet.” 💧 Water bowl + meow = “Hydration, please.” 🛏️ Used bed pad + meow = “Time for housekeeping.” 🚽 Circling on bed pad + meow = “Constipation alert. I’ll take the meds now.” She doesn’t vary her tone. She doesn’t need to. Her spatial syntax is impeccable. Simone speaks in coordinates. With one exception. When she wants me to pay...

  Simone: The Gamma Queen At 18 years old—well beyond the typical 10–15 year lifespan of Himalayans—Simone is not just surviving; she’s sovereign. In human years, she’s a centenarian, and she wears her age like a velvet robe: soft, regal, and quietly commanding. Simone is a classic Gamma: independent yet affectionate, serene yet perceptive. She loves attention but never demands it. Combing her long fur brings forth deep, quiet purrs—like a low chant from a feline monastery. Though arthritis and blindness have softened her physical presence, they’ve only deepened her emotional one. Her eyes, once brilliant blue, now clouded, still hold the memory of every gaze exchanged over nearly two decades. Her throne is a sleep number bed—higher than most, and perfectly suited to her new role as a tree cat. Once a bush cat who preferred low, hidden spaces, Simone now reigns from above, protected and elevated. During the day, she climbs three soft stairs to reach her perch, where cloth pads h...