New blooms

It's been a long year since I posted here: nothing seemed significant after losing Mister Purr on this day last year.  

These winter blooms are on the jade plant my godmother, Bege Clark, gave me when I moved to Texas. 

Six years ago, I flew from Atlanta to Texas in the backseat of a single engine plane, bringing only Mister Purr, one suitcase, and this jade plant. 

Since then, the jade has tripled in size and made several moves with me. But it's never bloomed. This year, it sat on the porch overlooking Purr's garden grave all summer. I brought it in when the weather turned cold. And it bloomed--profusely.

Maybe it's a reminder from Mister Purr (the blooms do remind me of his fuzzy white chin). This plant--which sat by his side all year--is now showing me the potential for blossoming into new life in the dead of winter.

Goodbye, Mister Purr

My beloved companion of 14 years is gone. 

Mister Purr died at dawn, the day after Christmas,

 after a long battle with liver failure and hyperthyroidism. 

He was a kind and gentle soul and I miss his purring, loving presence immensely. 

I will be forever grateful he was in my life and believe I'm a better woman as a result of sharing so much time with him.

Thank you for your many lessons in love, Mister Purr. 

The joys of running water

Every morning, Purr follows me out to feed the horses and waits patiently for me to turn on the hose.

The horses probably think it's odd, but they allow him to finish before they take their drink.

July 14th will be my 14th anniversary with Mister Purr. He's been a loyal, loving and forgiving companion--more like a dog than a cat in many ways--and I love him dearly.

I'm trying to manage his hyperthyroid condition, and he's been such a trooper.