The Path of Paws in the Snow

January 18, 2026 Bernadette

Pawprints in the snow from the wicker loveseat toward the deck.

Sometimes a set of circumstances that seem to be many coincidences feel like a visit from a beloved feline in spirit, but sometimes they can be just a series of coincidences that nonetheless help you along with healing the grief of your loss. I’ll include this in the category “Little Visit” from an animal companion who’s gone on to their next life because it still has some magic in it, and it’s the next best thing on a day you’re really missing them.

Working around the kitchen with my old energy, then Morty and Max, cleaning litterboxes, getting food together for the day and was in the middle of peeling labels from cans when I see birds are visiting the empty peanut butter cake feeder. Drop everything and go out to add a new one.

See a line of pawprints in snow from the deck steps to the green wicker loveseat and have to photograph them. Took a few with cell, got DSLR with small lens then see the deer in the neighbor’s yard. Back inside to get the whole bag, get more and more photos of pawprints, seem to be leading away from deck, then some leading toward. Lots of photos of deer.

Lots of energy. Back in, more energy. Back out to check pawprints. Deer back. More photos. Pawprints seem to go both ways but closer bunny tracks halfway across the yard that turn. Cat tracks lead in or out of fence in corner.

I’ve been seeing black cats everywhere in the house, small quiet shapes, moving with me, napping, walking. Thanks guys, I know you’re with me, still guiding, still inspiring.

~Pet loss journal, January 25, 2025

Alone in the kitchen

January 2025, just five weeks after losing Basil, I was feeling pretty lonely in the kitchen, remembering how many wonderful felines would have been on the cabinet behind me as I was at the stove or sink, though there were no cats there, or in any position to “supurrvise” me. In fact, there were no cats in the kitchen at all.

Basil had always been a constant in the kitchen when I was working. Even after we’d lost all his mentors, Giuseppe, Jelly Bean, Mr. Sunshine, Mewsette and Mimi, he was still there in the kitchen with his big eyes and eager energy. That was such a comfort after losing that gang of five who regularly gathered on the cabinet and even lined up on the edge. Basil was often a part of that, in the picture somewhere.

Remembering those gatherings made me miss him even more in this quiet, bright morning kitchen, turning around to see his almost frantic expression with big round eyes as I prepared anything at all, as if he’d lose his chance at some food even if he didn’t like what I was handling. He never lost that starving kitten inside himself or the traumatized kitten he was, but that didn’t stop him from being as brave as possible to be sure he got what he thought he needed. When I told him how cute he was he was puzzled because that wasn’t what he thought he needed.

And looking at that morning, though snow-covered, I knew Mimi would be waiting at the door to go outside, joined by Mewsette, both turning and looking up at me with the same eager expression as Basil, though for different reasons. Even just a few minutes of winter sunshine was essential for them, and because I’d cleared the steps and walks the day before they’d trot down to the garden for a little walk around, a roll on the concrete pad in front of the basement door for Mewsette, and a visit and rub and scratch on their respective garden chairs or a piece of wood in the wood pile for both of them.

A little later Giuseppe and Mr. Sunshine would join Mimi and me, unaccustomed to the frozen ground, bricks and flagstones but persisting for the morning’s adventure.

That had only been a year ago and the year before that, but the memories seemed already as distant as those of Cookie and Namir and Moses and Stanley and Kublai in those same places, the places hardly changed but the beloved felines come and gone.

black cat in snow — Kublai gives commentary while following me through the paths I’d shoveled.

With all these thoughts that morning I was somehow energized, not weighed down. I didn’t turn around to see that Basil wasn’t there, instead I focused on what I was doing, back and forth from stove to sink, probably chopping things and putting together a pot of soup. I think best when my hands are busy, and I could see them all around the kitchen, even feel them there, as I worked and enjoyed the rare January sunshine.

So it was that I looked out the kitchen window over the sink and saw the birds clinging to the empty peanut butter cake feeder and went out on the deck to refill it, looked out into the yard and saw the line of pawprints from the green wicker loveseat to the flagstone walk at the bottom of the deck steps, where it disappeared.

The pawprints appeared to go back and forth from the steps to the wicker loveseat but on closer inspection rabbit tracks joined the cat tracks to halfway across the yard, then turned right.

The cat was clearly walking toward the deck by the shape of the pawprints, and possibly lept onto the cleared flagstones and continued walking there, or through the steps under the risers to get shelter and a space clear of snow underneath the steps, possibly even heading under the deck where it would be warmer against the wall.

It was difficult to tell, because the snow had not fallen under it, if the kitty had settled underneath the wicker loveseat or just passed through.

There are plenty of community cat feeders around the neighborhood and cats who pass through like this, I didn’t feel the need to worry about the wellness of this kitty finding adequate food and shelter in this cold and snow. My household has never reacted well to cats who are not a part of our household anywhere they can see them in our yard so I don’t put food or shelter in my yard, though I would post in our neighborhood group to keep watch.

I don’t think this was a visit from any spirit feline, just a visit from a community cat. But the way I was called outside, I’m sure the wildlife had something to do with it with the birds on the empty feeder, of course I would look out around the yard once I was out there, and the deer kept me looking. It all feels significant when I had had no intention of going outside right then, if at all.

That's a lot of ears. — That’s a lot of ears.

Instead I was drawn to those memories of my garden cats and the significance of that green wicker loveseat which I pulled from a neighbor’s trash and placed in that spot in the back yard just because it that spot was available, in autumn 2022. But then it became a part of our lives in all seasons, Mimi, Mewsette, Giuseppe, Mr. Sunshine, Jelly Bean when I carried him out there, and me. Racing across the yard to and from it, Mimi and Mewsette in synchronized purrformance on the seat, Mimi posing on the top, Mewsette napping or modeling our new keepsake boxes on the seat, Mimi, Giuseppe and Mr. Sunshine gathering, observing, playing on it.

two black cats on teal wicker settee in autumn — Cross your tails.

black cat autumn — Mimi explores the wicker settee.

two black cats on wicker bench — Mr. Sunshine and Giuseppe mix it up.

black cat on green wicker loveseat — Mewsette invites me to join her in her favorite spot.

Whether the pawprints indicated a visit from my wonderful felines in spirit or not, the series of circumstances certainly led me to a lot of sweet and bittersweet memories, and healing yet a bit more of the grief of their losses.

I returned to the kitchen, still missing Basil but with happy memories of his sweet guilelessness, feeling my own energy return not weighted as heavily with the grief of their losses.

Little visits

You never know where the messages will come from or how the visitor will appear to you. But they will. They love and care about you as they did in life and still want to be near you.

Thank you for following our grief journey after losing seven members of our feline family.

I hope sharing our experiences have helped you in some way, as sharing my experiences with you helps me.

You can read all the articles related to their loss by tapping the images in the side bar and in articles.

Also read articles about Pet Loss and Pet Loss in the First Person, where I share my own experiences.

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sketch of two cats — Two in Sun and Shadow, charcoal and watercolor, 9″ x 6.5″ © B.E. Kazmarski

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