Bliss was my baby girl, who slept in my arms the two blocks I walked bringing her to her new apartment home in the inner city. She was a stray, a tuxedo, like Jake [see memorial], who greeted her but didn't disturb her slumber. He let her become the "alpha" cat of the duo.
The relationship of Bliss and Jake:
They loved to play together. In a dry bathtub filled with newspaper, they hid from each other only to jump out in surprise, one to another, or both at me.
At the very top of the stairs against the facing wall was a low stool, which was her "throne" on which she sat when Jake came upstairs. To the left and right of that wall were rooms. In order to go into either, Jake would try to slink past her. But Bliss, letting him think he made it to safety, would reach out and whack him on his rear - every time.
She also loved to lick his face, working her tongue down his neck as he lifted his head higher, enjoying her attention. Then, when he was totally at ease, she'd playfully nip his neck! Always shocked at her trick, he'd swat her back.
When I sat on the couch, with each on either side, one of them would pick a fight over my lap. Being in the middle, I always tried to give each equal and mutual attention. They were such a joy.
So often they would fight under the covers - each on either side of me - with their little paws battling over my stomach. What hilarity! Then Bliss would crawl out from under the covers and Jake would settle down in supposed victory -- except she'd know exactly where he was beneath and go sit on top of him. He'd then scramble to get out so as not to suffocate beneath her weight.
Often they would sit together on a piece of furniture looking out the window and watching the pigeons fly by -- turning their heads in unison for each passing bird, like watching a tennis match.
After Jake passed away, she loved to go outside on the apartment rooftop. When I took her to my parent's country home, she'd climb trees (see photo) and search out the meadows. A week or so before she passed, she went out on a high roof ledge and only stared towards the sunset for a long time. I believe she was communing with God, it was so uncanny. I looked up at her the whole while and then she looked down into my face and calmly walked back into the apartment -- never wanting to go out again.
She died of liver failure, around Sept. 19th, two months after my father, Leonard M. Bahr [see memorial], passed away.
Bliss is buried in the lower meadow she loved to visit.
The relationship of Bliss and Jake:
They loved to play together. In a dry bathtub filled with newspaper, they hid from each other only to jump out in surprise, one to another, or both at me.
At the very top of the stairs against the facing wall was a low stool, which was her "throne" on which she sat when Jake came upstairs. To the left and right of that wall were rooms. In order to go into either, Jake would try to slink past her. But Bliss, letting him think he made it to safety, would reach out and whack him on his rear - every time.
She also loved to lick his face, working her tongue down his neck as he lifted his head higher, enjoying her attention. Then, when he was totally at ease, she'd playfully nip his neck! Always shocked at her trick, he'd swat her back.
When I sat on the couch, with each on either side, one of them would pick a fight over my lap. Being in the middle, I always tried to give each equal and mutual attention. They were such a joy.
So often they would fight under the covers - each on either side of me - with their little paws battling over my stomach. What hilarity! Then Bliss would crawl out from under the covers and Jake would settle down in supposed victory -- except she'd know exactly where he was beneath and go sit on top of him. He'd then scramble to get out so as not to suffocate beneath her weight.
Often they would sit together on a piece of furniture looking out the window and watching the pigeons fly by -- turning their heads in unison for each passing bird, like watching a tennis match.
After Jake passed away, she loved to go outside on the apartment rooftop. When I took her to my parent's country home, she'd climb trees (see photo) and search out the meadows. A week or so before she passed, she went out on a high roof ledge and only stared towards the sunset for a long time. I believe she was communing with God, it was so uncanny. I looked up at her the whole while and then she looked down into my face and calmly walked back into the apartment -- never wanting to go out again.
She died of liver failure, around Sept. 19th, two months after my father, Leonard M. Bahr [see memorial], passed away.
Bliss is buried in the lower meadow she loved to visit.
Bliss was my baby girl, who slept in my arms the two blocks I walked bringing her to her new apartment home in the inner city. She was a stray, a tuxedo, like Jake [see memorial], who greeted her but didn't disturb her slumber. He let her become the "alpha" cat of the duo.
The relationship of Bliss and Jake:
They loved to play together. In a dry bathtub filled with newspaper, they hid from each other only to jump out in surprise, one to another, or both at me.
At the very top of the stairs against the facing wall was a low stool, which was her "throne" on which she sat when Jake came upstairs. To the left and right of that wall were rooms. In order to go into either, Jake would try to slink past her. But Bliss, letting him think he made it to safety, would reach out and whack him on his rear - every time.
She also loved to lick his face, working her tongue down his neck as he lifted his head higher, enjoying her attention. Then, when he was totally at ease, she'd playfully nip his neck! Always shocked at her trick, he'd swat her back.
When I sat on the couch, with each on either side, one of them would pick a fight over my lap. Being in the middle, I always tried to give each equal and mutual attention. They were such a joy.
So often they would fight under the covers - each on either side of me - with their little paws battling over my stomach. What hilarity! Then Bliss would crawl out from under the covers and Jake would settle down in supposed victory -- except she'd know exactly where he was beneath and go sit on top of him. He'd then scramble to get out so as not to suffocate beneath her weight.
Often they would sit together on a piece of furniture looking out the window and watching the pigeons fly by -- turning their heads in unison for each passing bird, like watching a tennis match.
After Jake passed away, she loved to go outside on the apartment rooftop. When I took her to my parent's country home, she'd climb trees (see photo) and search out the meadows. A week or so before she passed, she went out on a high roof ledge and only stared towards the sunset for a long time. I believe she was communing with God, it was so uncanny. I looked up at her the whole while and then she looked down into my face and calmly walked back into the apartment -- never wanting to go out again.
She died of liver failure, around Sept. 19th, two months after my father, Leonard M. Bahr [see memorial], passed away.
Bliss is buried in the lower meadow she loved to visit.
The relationship of Bliss and Jake:
They loved to play together. In a dry bathtub filled with newspaper, they hid from each other only to jump out in surprise, one to another, or both at me.
At the very top of the stairs against the facing wall was a low stool, which was her "throne" on which she sat when Jake came upstairs. To the left and right of that wall were rooms. In order to go into either, Jake would try to slink past her. But Bliss, letting him think he made it to safety, would reach out and whack him on his rear - every time.
She also loved to lick his face, working her tongue down his neck as he lifted his head higher, enjoying her attention. Then, when he was totally at ease, she'd playfully nip his neck! Always shocked at her trick, he'd swat her back.
When I sat on the couch, with each on either side, one of them would pick a fight over my lap. Being in the middle, I always tried to give each equal and mutual attention. They were such a joy.
So often they would fight under the covers - each on either side of me - with their little paws battling over my stomach. What hilarity! Then Bliss would crawl out from under the covers and Jake would settle down in supposed victory -- except she'd know exactly where he was beneath and go sit on top of him. He'd then scramble to get out so as not to suffocate beneath her weight.
Often they would sit together on a piece of furniture looking out the window and watching the pigeons fly by -- turning their heads in unison for each passing bird, like watching a tennis match.
After Jake passed away, she loved to go outside on the apartment rooftop. When I took her to my parent's country home, she'd climb trees (see photo) and search out the meadows. A week or so before she passed, she went out on a high roof ledge and only stared towards the sunset for a long time. I believe she was communing with God, it was so uncanny. I looked up at her the whole while and then she looked down into my face and calmly walked back into the apartment -- never wanting to go out again.
She died of liver failure, around Sept. 19th, two months after my father, Leonard M. Bahr [see memorial], passed away.
Bliss is buried in the lower meadow she loved to visit.
