Or as Tim likes to say, you can call me Shirley, just don’t call me chubsy-ubsy. She was a member of the family for 18 years, really a lifetime, as evidenced by how my kids have grown since she arrived.
Chelsea and Shirley, 1996
She outlived many companions. Her sister, Oreo, was lost in the woods years ago.
Shirley and Oreo
She survived an encounter with a moving car,in the 1990’s, with perhaps a little loss of mental capacity but as the vet said, “It’s not like she has to go to work. She just has to find her food and litter box”. And she did.
She (and her adopted brother, Loki) lived aboard our catamaran and held up in all weather conditions. When the weather was bad, they crawled into their bunk and slept. At night, we would hear them scurrying along the deck and waited for the dreaded splash. It never happened.
Shirley on watch on Water Lily
Both cats traveled with us to several lighthouse caretaking gigs, until Loki resisted travel.
Shirley and Loki on Seguin
Shirley, Baker’s Island
Shirley, whiffle ball outfielder
She loved all sorts of knitwear and projects and was a frequent model.
She enjoyed a drink now and then, bird watching and squirrel hunting.
And relaxing in front of the fireplace.
She purred until the end, lying on one of her favorite scarves. She’s been my companion, child surrogate, travel buddy, knitwear tester and will be sorely missed.