Whiskers, Wonders, and a Whole Lot of Love
Welcome to Tails from the Clowder, a cat lover’s corner of the internet where feline stories unfold like sunbeams on a porch swing. If you’ve ever been adopted by a stray cat — or ten — you already know: it’s not you who chooses them. It’s they who choose you.
What started as a quiet backyard has become a bustling feral cat sanctuary — home to a growing clowder of rescued and outdoor cats with unforgettable personalities. From quiet guardians to playful kittens, each whiskered soul here has a story.
A Soft Place to Land
It began with Rosey, the founding matriarch of the clowder. With soulful eyes and a silent strength, she arrived like a whisper and brought life into the yard three times over. Her litters gave rise to names such as George, Willie and Barbarosa, Thor and Viracocha — each a character, each a chapter in this ongoing tale.
Then came the others.
Thomas appeared during the hush of the pandemic, padding silently into the yard as if summoned by stillness.
Shortly after, two tiny sisters — Lucy and Sophia — entered our lives. Though not born into the clowder, they were rescued from a homeless shelter at just three weeks old. Their mother, Tori, stayed only a short time before vanishing, leaving them nestled under the care of the growing cat family — and mine. Lucy, observant and serene; Sophia, brave and mischievous — together, they brought softness and resilience to the mix.
Not long ago, under the cool October moon, Luna appeared — ethereal and quiet, as if descended from starlight.
Charlie followed. And a few months later, Pumapogo, the smallest yet boldest of them all, tiptoed into our story one misty morning.
Every arrival shifts the rhythm of the clowder. Every pawprint matters.
The Guardians and the Curious Ones
There’s something sacred in the way a cat keeps watch.
Barbarosa, a red tabby with a white heart on his chest, is often found perched on the fence — a silent sentinel. His stillness brings to mind the Grey Wolf from Barrington Bunny — wise, watchful, and seemingly aware of something deeper. He is the guardian of the clowder.
But life here isn’t all solemn stares and poetic pauses.
Some cats nap in the shade under the tree. Others pounce on shadows or sneak under a chair. Each day is a new cat tale — a story told in flicks of the tail, midair twists, and gentle headbutts. Even the local raccoons seem to respect the hierarchy.