ROCKI – Rocki was the first cat my family had ever owned. Our neighbor’s cat had kittens, and they asked if we wanted one. My Mom said sure, why not, and chose Rocki out of a litter of 8. Rocki was a beautiful, long haired Calico cat with glowing green eyes. We were told Rocki was a male, but being we didn’t know much about cats at the time, we also didn’t know that 99.9% of Calico cats are females. When we took Rocki to the vet for the first check up, that’s when we found out that Rocky was actually Rocki. Rocki lived a pampered indoor life in the house we grew up in. My Mom decided to sell our childhood home and move closer to her Mom in Washington state, so Rocki got to go on an excellent 7 day cross country adventure to her new home. It was there that she grew old and eventually went to the Rainbow Bridge in 19XX. She was buried in her favorite blanket and rests in a peaceful spot in my Mom’s yard.
MALLORY – I met Mallory while living in the Florida Keys in the early 90’s. I was in Key West for the first time, doing all the touristy things and waiting to watch the sunset I’d heard so much about at Mallory Square. There were musicians, jugglers, people eating fire, and in the midst of all the entertainment and chaos I spotted this little orange kitten with a fish hook stuck in her paw. She appeared to be looking for someone to help her, but people kept passing her by. Then she found me. I tried to remove the hook, but it was impossible to do so without further injuring her. So I called Monroe County Animal Control for assistance. It was the least I could do for this hurting little kitten. When they arrived they also attempted to remove the hook but were unsuccessful, therefore they were taking her back to the animal shelter for further evaluation. I nervously asked what was going to happen to her. They said if the hook could be removed without surgery she would be placed up for adoption, but if surgery was required they would have to euthanize her. I took the shelter’s contact information so that I could be kept informed of her status. I then kissed her little orange head as she was taken away and said a prayer for her. All that night I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and cried all the way back home to Big Pine Key. The next day I called the shelter to ask about her, and was told they were able to remove the hook without surgery! I immediately got in my car and drove back down to Key West to adopt her. Mallory fit in perfectly with my existing crew, Bundy & Mewy. She was especially fond of Mewy. They were always snuggled up together. Mallory was a good traveler. We would often drive from the Keys to visit family in Jupiter, and eventually we ended up moving to Jacksonville. Not long after arriving in Jacksonville, I notice Mallory started looking bloated so I took her to the vet. She was diagnosed with the “wet” form of Feline infectious peritonitis. FIP is a viral disease that occurs worldwide in wild and domestic cats. It is caused by a type of virus called a coronavirus, which tends to attack the cells of the intestinal wall. It is almost invariably a fatal disease, and unfortunately Mallory lost her battle with it in September 1998. Mallory was the first cat that I had to make the decision on euthanasia, and it was not an easy decision to make. But it was the right and humane decision to make for her. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
SLAPSHOT/BUNDY – It was January 1984, and I had just moved into my very first apartment. I was afraid of being alone so I thought, I’ll go get a cat! This adorable gray and white kitten certainly was going to frighten away any intruders! I adopted Slapshot/Bundy as a 6 month old kitten from Hammond Animal Control in Hammond, IN. As a hockey fan, I had chosen the name Slapshot in advance for any animal I would be adopting. I brought him home and quickly found out he was feisty young man, living up to his hockey inspired name. Friends would come over and just be sitting on the couch, and Slapshot would sit next to them and start biting their elbows, sometimes drawing blood. His sometimes violent behavior got him the nickname “Bundy”, after the notorious serial killer Ted Bundy, and it stuck. I gave his nickname nicknames, as I didn’t like my cat being compared to a serial killer. He became “B”, or Beezer. He was with me on the coldest night in Chicago history – January 20, 1985. The actual outside temperature was -27°, but when factoring in a howling wind out of the west (the direction in which my bedroom windows faced), the wind chill was a numbing -80°! Bundy, Mewy (you’ll meet him next), and I were hunkered down in my waterbed with the heater turned all the way up, under 5 layers of heavy blankets, trying to stay warm together. The owners of my apartment building decided to choose that night to save on their heating bill, and as a result it was a balmy 45° in my apartment. I also had light blue parakeet named Perry at the time, and I covered his cage with multiple towels to try and keep him warm but it wasn’t enough. I found him deceased at the bottom of his cage the next morning.
In 1990, Bundy became a Florida resident. We drove the 1,308 miles from Chicago to our destination in Florida, with an overnight stop in Chattanooga TN along the way. From there, Bundy became a very well traveled cat, moving with me to Jupiter FL, then Marathon FL. While living in Marathon, Bundy and Mewy and I evacuated for 1992’s Hurricane Andrew. What was usually a 3 hour trip from Marathon to Jupiter took us 8½ hours in bumper to bumper traffic heading north on the Florida Turnpike. But Bundy and Mewy were troopers through it all. In 1996 we moved to Jacksonville FL, and finally in 1999 we settled in Port St Lucie FL. Bundy passed away at the ripe old kitty age of 18 in 2002. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
MEWY – I adopted Mewy not long after adopting Bundy. I felt like Bundy needed a friend to keep him company while I was at work, or out partying into the wee hours of the night. Named after hockey legend Mario Lemieux, “Mewy” was a solid black cat with the sweetest personality. Just like Bundy, Mewy became a Florida resident in 1990 and moved with me to various locations throughout the state. When Mallory became part of the pack, Mewy took a liking to her and the two of them could often be found birdwatching or sleeping/cuddling together. Mewy lost his snuggle buddy when she got sick, but he would soon meet some new friends in Jacksonville (you’ll meet them next). In early 2001, Mewy started having minor seizures and I could no longer let him suffer so he peacefully went to the Rainbow Bridge to meet back up with Mallory. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
BAILEY – Jacksonville is a very transient, military town, and it was there that I met Bailey. I had seen this cream/white cat with blue eyes walking around the apartment complex I was living in, and assumed that someone had just left him behind as they moved out of Jacksonville. I felt bad for him, so I left dry cat food and water on the porch for him (and any other stray cat that might be hungry or thirsty). At first he wouldn’t let me get close enough to him to pet him and check him for any injuries, but eventually I won his trust. When I finally got up close, I could see through his white fur that he was infested from head to toe, including inside his ears, with fleas! He looked miserable. So I scooped him up under my arm, and took him straight to the bathtub, praying he wouldn’t claw me to death. You know how cats hate water! Well Bailey must have known I was trying to help him, because he held perfectly still as I rinsed the fleas from his body. The water was pitch black from all the fleas and flea dirt. I cleaned his ears and towel dried him as gently as I could, and then let him relax and dry completely in the spare bedroom. After everything he had been through I couldn’t just turn him loose on the streets again, so Bailey became the 3rd cat of the pack. I chose his name because his fur was the color of Bailey’s Irish Cream. He got along great with Bundy and Mewy, and loved to snuggle with me in bed at night. I started noticing though that he was losing weight despite once being a chonk with a good appetite so I took him to the vet for bloodwork, where it was discovered he was diabetic. I had never had a diabetic pet before, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to give him the daily injections he needed to be able to survive. Plus the insulin was expensive – the vet was charging me $400 for one vial! But I had to try for Bailey’s sake, he deserved that chance after being abandoned once already. The vet showed me how to do the injections, and it was easier than I thought it would be. Bailey was a good patient. Once again, I think he knew I was trying to help him. His condition required frequent bloodwork, and in June 2006 bloodwork results showed several of his organs were failing. Age and diabetes had taken its toll on his body, so I let him go peacefully to the Rainbow Bridge to prevent any further suffering. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
YODA – Yoda was another stray cat that hung around my Jacksonville apartment complex. He was a big cat, buff and white in color. He partook of the dry cat food and water that I left out on the porch, and came and went as he pleased, content to be an outdoor cat. Eventually he began trusting me enough to let me pet him, and sometimes I would sit on the porch with him while he ate. Then one late October morning, my then husband opened the door to leave for work and yelled for me, saying it looked like someone tried to kill this cat. I flew out of bed to the front door to find this poor cat covered from head to toe in beige house paint. It was everywhere – in his ears, on his whiskers, on his eyelids. It looked like someone had dipped him in a 5 gallon bucket of paint, and it was dried stiff. I called my vet, not knowing what to do for this cat. The vet said to wash him with Dawn dishwashing liquid, I guess thinking it was a small amount of paint. When that didn’t work I asked if I could bring the cat in. I brought him to the vet’s office and when the vet saw him he said ohhh, you mean PAINT PAINT! There was no washing or rinsing the paint off the cat, the only solution was to shave his fur off from the neck down. He looked ridiculous. But that was only way to get all the paint off of him. The temperatures that night were expected to be in the 30’s, so I was like well, I guess I have another cat! I named him Yoda based on his long and wide set ears, and he became a pampered indoor cat (which he didn’t mind at all). In May 1999, I made the decision to move back to south Florida to be near family, and Yoda left his Jacksonville roots behind. He made the move with me to a duplex, and he was a great pet. He had such a personality, and was a great napping partner. In the summer of 2007, I noticed he didn’t want to eat as much as he usually did, so I took him to the vet to get checked out. Upon examination, several large and bloody sores were found in his mouth and on his gums. He had oral cancer. The vet cleaned up Yoda’s mouth, gave me some painkillers, and I took him home for a few weeks. Once again, I had to make the decision to end his suffering. He peacefully went to the Rainbow Bridge and met back up with his fellow Jacksonville kitty Bailey. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
ERNGE – In the duplex adjacent to me lived a rough, redneck’ish couple, but they had 4 cats, so they were alright in my book. Then one day in passing they let me know they were going to be moving. I wished them well and went on my way. A few days after I saw the U-Haul pull out of their driveway, I noticed an orange cat they called Tiger hanging out on their back porch. They had left Tiger behind! I left food and water out for him, and he showed his appreciation by visiting my back porch often. It was the middle of summer, and I felt bad that he was left to fend for himself versus the brutal Florida heat, humidity, and mosquitoes, so I took him in. He was a big, round, friendly orange (ernge) cat, and he quickly acclimated himself to indoor living. One day while watching him eat from his food dish, I noticed that his right shoulder appeared to be slightly larger than the left shoulder. When I touched that shoulder, I could feel a lump. I scheduled an appointment with his vet, and after x-rays were done, I was referred to a feline oncology specialist. Ernge was diagnosed with FISS – Feline Injection Site Sarcoma. These soft tissue sarcomas are deeply rooted tumors, they dig in deeply and widely in a localized area. I was advised even if surgical removal was attempted, these tumors were notorious for recurring even more aggressively than before. People had already given up on Ernge once, I couldn’t let him down a second time. He was only 4 years old and deserved a chance at life, so I opted to move forward with the surgery. $3000 later, Ernge was back home with a long line of stitches above his right shoulder and I hoped for the best in his recovery. Just a few months later, just as his fur had started growing back in that area, I noticed the lump forming again so back we went to the feline oncologist. This time, the vet advised against another surgery, as this most likely would be a recurrent issue with Ernge. He suggested chemotherapy, but even that wasn’t going to rid him of the cancer, it would only prolong his life temporarily. So I took Ernge home and had a few more good weeks with him until the tumor rapidly grew to the point it hindered his ability to get around. I knew then that it was time to set Ernge free from his illness and send him to the Rainbow Bridge. I was heartbroken that he was so young and lost his life, but took comfort knowing he didn't die alone and suffering out in the streets. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
OREO – At my workplace were a group of stray cats that I fed, and one of the females had kittens before I could get her spayed. A couple of the kittens were extremely feral, but the black & white kitten, became an office mascot. He knew my work schedule and arrival time, and would come running up to my car, knowing it was breakfast time. I named him Oreo (for obvious reasons), and he was quite the character. He would run into the building when I opened the front door for him then proceed to make himself comfortable. He would lay across my paperwork on the desk, “helping” me with it. And he LOVED sitting on the desk watching the second hand on the clock, he was fascinated by it! I fought off bringing him home and making him part of the pack for months. On the very day I lost that battle with myself and decided to bring him home, I came into work that day to find him writhing on the ground and unable to use his limbs. I picked him up and immediately took him to the closest emergency vet. Based on the symptoms Oreo was presenting with and on his history as an outdoor cat, the vet diagnosed him with meningitis. The most common cause of meningitis is a bacterial infection in the brain. In cats, especially adult animals, viruses, protozoa, and fungi are also frequent causes of meningitis. Without going into extensive and expensive diagnostics, the vet could not give an optimistic long term prognosis for Oreo, so I quickly had to make a decision on his future that was best for him. Oreo went to the Rainbow Bridge with me by his side. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
MARLEY - This beautiful Calico girl came into my life in 2003, when she was about 3 years old. I was at a local St Patrick's Day event, which was taking place near the old humane society building. Being the animal lover that I am, I decided to go into the shelter just to look. I had NO intention of bringing an animal home. I already had 2 cats and a dog. Then I saw Marley in her cage, looking festive in a St Patrick's Day bandanna, but laying with her back to everyone. A volunteer saw me looking at Marley and approached me, explaining that Marley was depressed because she had been at the shelter for quite awhile. Well that's all I needed to hear! Plus she reminded me so much of my childhood family cat, Rocki. The expression "what's one more?" came into my head, and I proceeded to sign adoption papers for her. Marley was shy around people she didn't know, but was very sweet and affectionate with me. She loved snuggling up next to my pillow every night and sleeping with me. She also got along well with the dog, as well as her kitty roommates. At around age 11, Marley's organs began to fail. She didn't want to eat, and grew very weak. She went to the Rainbow Bridge in December 2011, and was cremated. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other..
COLUMBUS - One evening in late October my sister in law and I were out shopping and a Petco happened to be nearby, so she said "let's go in and look". I was like ok, I need to get some cat food anyway. At the front of the store there were about 9 small cages with cats and kittens available for adoption. My sister in law fell in love with a pretty Calico cat named Bella, and while she was signing adoption papers, I was chit-chatting with the other cats available for adoption. A 7 year old gray cat named Columbus kept reaching through the bars of his kennel, like he was trying to call me over to him. I walked over to say hello to him and scratch his head, and he wrapped his paw around my fingers. Talk about an easy sell! I signed adoption papers for him and home we went. According to his surrender paperwork, Columbus was surrendered by his previous owners at age 7 because the wife was pregnant and allergic to him. It took Columbus about a year to come out of his shell and realize he was in his forever home. In September 2017, Hurricane Irma was bearing down on Florida as a powerful category 5 storm. Living on the top floor of a 2 story condo, I evacuated to my brother's more hurricane-safe home with my 3 very scared cats. We had our own room, but they were still very fearful and were very vocal about their fear, Columbus in particular. In an attempt to prevent his yowling from waking the whole house at 11pm I reached under the bed where he was hiding, to try and get him to quiet down. Instead, he sunk his teeth into my left thumb, and then it was me yowling! I know that cat bites can cause a lot of damage, but I didn't want to go to the emergency room and risk getting locked down there through a hurricane so I washed my thumb with antibacterial soap and slathered on Neosporin, hoping that would be enough to prevent infection. As the weekend passed and the storm grew stronger, I watched my thumb ooze and swell to the size of a plump hotdog and become an angry red color. As soon as the winds died down I drove straight to the emergency room. I got 3 doses of IV antibiotics, my thumb was severely infected. But I couldn't be mad at Columbus, he was in a place unfamiliar to him and scared, so he reacted the only way an animal knows how. I lost him in March 2018, he was 17 years old and his kidneys began to fail him so I let him go peacefully to the Rainbow Bridge. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
EVIL - Evil's mom gave birth to her and 3 other kittens in a toy box on my brother's back porch. Initially, for the first 6 months of her life, Evil was my brother's cat. My brother could not handle litter box duty though, so Evil came to live with me. Evil was a beautiful Siamese cat, with dark brown fur and blue eyes. But true to her breed, she was feisty, so she was named Dr. Evil by my brother's kids, after the character in the Austin Powers movies. Evil fit right in with my existing crew, but she definitely liked to let the other cats know that she was in charge. She had an affinity for stuffed animals, and snuggled with them every chance she got. She was particularly fond of a soft and fluffy pink rabbit, and could often be found laying on top of it. She was also very snuggly with me. At bedtime she would take her place next to my pillow and purr herself to sleep. We spent nearly 18 years together, she passed away just 3 months prior to her 18th birthday. Old age took my Evil Weevil just 10 days after I lost Columbus. Evil left the world peacefully in March 2018. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
RILEY - The first time I saw Riley, his little orange head was peeking out of a storage shed on a car lot where I was working at the time. There were a few stray cats that hung around my workplace, and apparently one of them had recently given birth. Riley was an orange tabby, and he had a pure black sibling that I named Spooky (it was close to Halloween, hence the name). Riley quickly learned my work schedule. He would come running to my car at 8am, knowing breakfast was about to be served. Soon he started coming into the building and would find a chair to curl up on for his cat naps. Customers loved Riley! I took Riley to a local spay/neuter organization to get him fixed, and get his vaccines. I had to bring him home after his neuter surgery, so he could safely sleep off the anesthesia. I brought him back to my workplace and he was free to roam again, but I began to realize he didn't want to be an outdoor kitty anymore. Sooo, he came home with me. Because of his pampered lifestyle, the office manager said he was living the life of Riley, and that's how he got his name. Riley had so much personality, and he loved playing with his catnip toys. On Memorial Day weekend 2018, I noticed Riley was not acting like his usual spunky self so I kept an eye on him. I noticed his gums and paw pads were a pale yellow color, and he had begun howling and crying randomly. I took him to the vet, and was told Riley was actively dying. The yellowing was due to liver failure, and the kindest thing I could do for him was to not let him suffer any longer. My funny orange kitty was 10 years old when he went to the Rainbow Bridge. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
KITTY BEAR - I met Kitty Bear in April 2018 while doing shelter pet photography at HSTC. He was a handsome white cat that had Heterochromia - one blue eye and one green eye. My grandma Lil had a cat named Iggy with this condition, and he was equally as handsome. Having recently lost 2 cats within a 10 day span, that left me with just 1 cat. I didn't want to lose my Crazy Cat Lady status, so I added Kitty Bear to the family. Kitty Bear was a shy boy when I first brought him home. He had been surrendered by his family of 10 years because they were moving out of state and couldn't take him with them. He was probably just confused, having gone from what he thought was his forever home, to the unfamiliarity of a shelter, to a new home with a strange cat and a dog. He eventually got comfortable with his new family, I would be his forever home. He loved sleeping next to me at night, and had the funniest little meow. In April 2020, as Covid took over the world, Kitty Bear began acting lethargic and sick and wasn't eating much. I took him to the vet, where they did bloodwork. He was severely anemic, and had several other medical issues going on. When I brought him to the vet that night, I was not at all expecting to return home without him, but due to the severity of his illnesses the vet recommended euthanasia. I spent some time with Kitty Bear in the exam room, wondering if euthanasia at this time was the right choice. Looking in his beautiful, different colored eyes, I could see that it was the kindest thing I could do for him, even though it meant my heart would break yet again. My voice and my face were the last thing Kitty Bear heard and saw as he left for the Rainbow Bridge. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.
SEBASTIAN - this large and in charge cat started out as a hurricane foster in the fall of 2018, then never left my home, or my heart. He was transferred to HSTC from the Broward County shelter because he was having trouble getting adopted there. He wasn't getting much attention at HSTC either. So ahead of Hurricane Michael, I agreed to temporarily foster him. But wow, did his personality bloom outside of the shelter.
He is the perfect example of not judging a shelter animal by their kennel presence. If I had judged him by how he looked in his kennel—quiet, aloof, uninterested—I would have missed one of the best friends I’ve ever known. Outside of those walls though, he was something entirely different. He was my shadow, my comfort, my constant. He had this way of settling in beside me during a baseball game like he understood what was happening. Those weren’t just games we watched together. They were our time. I won't paint him as a perfect little angel though. Sebastian had an ornery, sassy streak and left me with scars that I call "Sebastian tattoos". I'll wear them for life. If he wasn't in the mood for affection, he'd let you know. He wasn't above delivering a swat or a hateful glare to remind everyone that he made the rules. That feisty personality was part of his charm. He wasn't just another cat—he was Sebastian. Equal parts sweetheart and chunky dictator, with a healthy dose of cattitude. Those little quirks, the moments that made me laugh and occasionally say, "Really, Sebastian?", are the things I miss just as much as the cuddles. Shelter visitors and potential adopters never got to see that side of him. They saw a quiet cat sitting in a kennel. I got to know the funny, stubborn, opinionated little soul hiding underneath. That beautiful soul left me suddenly in the early morning hours of July 5, 2025. I had just returned home from a pet sitting job and found him peacefully at rest. My only hope is that he went quickly and painlessly, and that he didn't think I abandoned him when he needed me most. Sebastian gave me years of laughter, companionship, sass, and unconditional love—far more than I could have ever given him in return. He was cremated and his ashes remain with me in safe keeping. One day, when my own journey is over, I want my ashes mixed with those of every pet who has ever called me theirs, and scattered together. They spent their lives finding their way home to me. It feels only right that, in the end, we find our way home to each other.