But as I was standing on the back deck taking pictures, I noticed something to the left.
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In front of the woodshed.
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We have a few morning skunks nibbling under the bird feeders now and then and they often scurry into the shed if they spot me.
But this one wasn’t scurrying.
😰
I’m going to issue a warning now.
This poor little guy was dead, and since we love our backyard visitors like family … and I’ve never been close enough to touch a skunk…. I did that morning. I also took pictures, which might be disturbing.
So again, here’s my warning.
Dead animal photos to follow.
Please leave now if you find it distressing.
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Skunks don’t live very long in the wild. On average only two to four years. And since we didn’t see any signs of injury, we’re guessing it was just this sweet little fellow’s time.
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He looked very peaceful. As if he simply laid down and went to sleep.
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I like to think the beautiful sunrise helped him on his way.
I’m going to share a local story that made me cry.
But in a good way, as it has a beautiful ending.
Mainers have been following updates on this tale for the past few weeks and the entire timeline below is quoted from Sullivan Sanctuary.
Let me know if you’re crying at the end too.
😉
Hi… my name has been Pie, and Charlie, and Phoenix. But today, I want to tell you my whole story — the way I lived it.
When I was a tiny kitten, a little girl named Abby picked me up and held me close. She was seven, and she smelled like crayons and summertime. She named me Pie, and I loved the way she said it — soft and warm, like a hug. I grew up with her. I slept on her pillow every night. I followed her everywhere. I was her best friend, and she was mine.
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One day, when Abby was eighteen, she took me to Petco in xxxxxx to be groomed. We lived in xxxxxx, so the drive felt familiar. But when we got there… something scared me. A noise, a smell, a moment too big. I panicked. I ran. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to leave her. But my paws carried me into the woods behind the parking lot, and suddenly I couldn’t find her anymore.
I heard her calling for me. I heard her crying. I tried to go back, but I was too scared and too lost.
For days, Abby and her family searched. They walked the woods. They called my name. They made flyers and hung them everywhere. I saw one once — my own face staring back at me — but I didn’t know how to get home.
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July turned into August. Abby had to leave for college. I didn’t know that, but I felt her sadness in the air. I felt the world change.
And I kept walking.
For two long months, I wandered through Maine’s woods. I slept under trees. I hid from storms. I was hungry, scared, tired, and lonely. But I kept going, because something inside me whispered that love might still be out there.
One late September day, I came upon a house in xxxxx . I was so tired. My paws hurt. My belly hurt. My heart hurt. A young boy walked into the yard — gentle, quiet, kind. His name was Joey.
He knelt down slowly. I walked to him. And for the first time in months… I felt safe.
Joey called me Charlie. It wasn’t the name I grew up with, but it felt like love. And I could tell Joey needed me. So I stayed.
For five beautiful years, I was Joey’s cat. I greeted him after school. I slept beside him. I played with his siblings. I watched him grow up. I loved him, too — because my heart has always had room for more.
Meanwhile, Abby was growing up far away. She went to college. She fell in love. She built her life. But when her father passed away suddenly three years ago, she started searching for me again. She checked shelters. She checked social media. She held onto a tiny hope that I might still be alive.
I didn’t know she was looking for me. But I never stopped loving her.
In January 2026, my body started to feel strange. I was losing weight. I was having accidents. I didn’t understand what was happening. Joey’s mom took me to the vet, and they said I was an older diabetic cat. Joey gave me insulin every day. He tried so hard to help me.
But in September, Joey’s family went on a weekend trip. Someone was coming to feed me and give me my medicine, but I fell asleep in the sun and missed my dose. The next day, I felt dizzy and confused. My legs didn’t work right. I wandered away — not far, but far enough that I couldn’t get back.
I saw a kind lady. I walked up to her because I didn’t feel good and I didn’t know what else to do. She gave me food and water and called for help.
That’s when Sullivan Sanctuary found me.
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Peyton and Lindsay scooped me up gently, whispering soft things. They brought me to Casey, who made me a warm bed and called me Phoenix, because I looked like a cat trying to rise again. They rushed me to the emergency vet because they knew I was in trouble.
They tried to find my family — and they did. Joey’s mom was so worried. They loved me so much. But when they learned how sick I was, they made the brave, heartbreaking choice to let the Sanctuary take over so I could survive.
They saved my life.
And then… something unbelievable happened.
A woman saw my picture online. She stared at my freckles. She sent photos. She asked questions. And suddenly everyone realized:
I wasn’t just Charlie. I wasn’t just Phoenix. I was Pie. Abby’s Pie. Her childhood best friend.
After five years, she found me.
When Abby walked into the room at the vet, I didn’t understand at first. I sniffed the air. I listened to her voice. And then… something inside me lit up like it had been waiting all this time.
I knew her. I remembered her. My girl.
I leaned into her hands and felt home again.
Abby and her husband followed Casey back to the Sanctuary, where Lindsay met them. Everyone cried and laughed and connected the dots of my long, winding journey. They told me I was going home.
On Sunday, I’ll go back to Abby — back to the place where I first learned what love was. I’ll see Owen, my old kitty friend. Abby will give me my medicine. And the Sanctuary will visit me. And Joey… Joey can visit too. Because I love him, and he loved me, and Abby said he will always be welcome.
I had three names. I had three families. And I loved them all.
I survived woods, winters, illness, and time. I found love over and over again. And I never stopped trying to find my way home.
My name is Pie–Charlie–Phoenix. And this… this is my story.
I love living in my state and especially in one of its rural towns.
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We’ve had our neighbor’s horses, goats and chickens all wander over to say hello but as of yet, no cows.
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I want cows too!
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That’s a traffic jam you’ll never see in the city.
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Whaaat?
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And people think Oregon is weird….
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🤣
Closer to home, the geese are on the move.
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A few cold nights is all it takes for these birds to say sayonara and head for warmer shores.
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We were invited to dinner at a friend’s house recently and I made my cappuccino mousse trifle with raspberries.
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It’s always a hit and in exchange? Our British ex pat friends shared a lovely bottle of gin they picked up in Scotland that I’d never even heard of.
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Ooh la la.
If you’re a G&T fan? This is delightful. Smooth, crisp and oddly… almost creamy. It’s made with hand harvested sugar kelp seaweed and is a true small batch gem from the Outer Hebrides.
It’s not available in Maine, so I may have to make a pilgrimage to Boston soon.
I like a good kosher dill with my sandwich now and then but I don’t actively search for the them on the internet… so why does my FB algorithm kick into high pickle gear every now and then?
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I’m passing on the pickle minions.
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And flights are for beer! Or occasionally, margaritas.
No pickles required.
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Pickle slush?
Hard pass, no matter how cute the glass.
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I will not.
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Yay for me, I guess.
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You know the seafood is fresh when…
🤣
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Cow patty bingo without a cow? Where’s the fun in that…
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A few weeks ago our lawn was a lush green…
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And a veritable wildlife bonanza showed up for a nosh.
We have a little brick landing at the bottom of our back deck steps. My husband built it years ago without laying gravel so it heaves and shifts and separates and allows grass and weeds to fill in the cracks. This year I think portulaca has taken hold so I’m letting it grow in case it blooms.
But I digress…
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This landing had become one of our woodchuck babies preferred spots.
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The spot where he stands watch.
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Over what, I have no idea.
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But he takes his sentinel position very seriously.
❤️
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
