Beanflower House in mourning

1995- December 3,1999

We've all been here before . . . some of you knew Beanflower, and loved her, or know of my love for her. The loss of life in a beloved pet and friend brings with it an innocent tragedy and a sense of profound sorrow that is purely their own.

Pets *are* unconditional love.

It is with great sorrow that I report that Beanflower has gone to the great catnip fields in the hereafter...

She was hit by a speeding car Friday night, died instantly, and with her went the best cat I have ever had. I loved her madly and she lived four spoiled years in California after Neil insisted that I take her home -- a pure black kitten with the softest thickest fur and the most wonderful mrmrrrr-ing voice.

She made me laugh all the time.

Neil was there when she was born. His daughter, Maddy, named her Beanflower, because Neil had just showed Maddy how you could eat bean flowers in their garden.

The daughter of The Black Cat That Lived Under Neil's Porch. Neil immortalized Beanflower's father in his short story, The Price. The published version of the story appears in a chapbook whose sales proceeds go to benefit the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, a project Neil works tirelessly to support -- it's about anti-Censorship. You can read more at

No cat I've known had as much pure individual personality as Beanflower.

Everyone adored her. Even the chihauhau next door, who played "Tag" with her. Really! I didn't believe it until Kathy called me over one afternoon and we watch them go at it. They were gentle and respectful of each other, but boy were they on a tear! Bean was so cute. Even when she was bad... as she so often was -- I watched her spike a hummingbird out of the sky one afternoon (it survived), and promptly fitted her with 3 bells instead of the one.

She had learned to walk so stealthily it didn't ring !

She waited for me to come home every day . . . i swept up on my motorcycle and the first thing I'd hear when I pulled the helmet off was the ching-ching-ching of Bean running up, three bells ringing.

She slept with me every night, either pinning my legs to the bed or -- my favorite -- sleeping with her forepaws on my neck and her face resting on my cheek and jaw. Her whiskers tickeled that way, but I put with it because, well, it was Bean. Her favorite way to wake me up (usually at 3 AM just to make sure I knew she was there) or if I hadn't stirred by 9 AM to FEED HER -- she was a cat, after all -- was three sandpaper licks on my neck . . . followed by a fanged bite.

I learned to wake up by the second lick . . .

One of my favorite Beanflowerisms is that when Neptune watched our friend Henry Kaiser wear his amazing cat out with a red-pointer -- one of those horrible flashlight thingies that makes you want to kill people at rock concerts and movie theatres -- he went and bought one to tease Bean into chasing it. Beanflower spent about three seconds looking at the red spot flickering on the hardwood floor, then followed it to its source....the keychain light in Neptune's hand. She walked up and swatted it out of his hand the ground and turned and stalked away in a manner that clearly communicated her disguest with the silly humans who thought she could be thus fooled.

Neptune's favorite memory of her is that whenever she yawned, which she would do in a very deliberate, indolent way, obviously saying "that's nice, go off to work now and make enough money to FEED ME while I stay here and keep the bed warm" she displayed a heart-shaped black birthmark on the roof of her mouth. "I love you, now run along."

So present was she in the remodeling and rebuilding of my house that my friends dubbed it "Beanflower House"...

as you can see from the site, Bean was everywhere the action was (or maybe the camera was -- that cat loved to pose!)

Her name is inscribed in the foundation of Beanflower House.

She is in the center of my rose garden now, which is all claws and petals, much like Bean,
and I will always miss her as I will always love her, and I know she had a really excellent and spoiled four years as uncontended mistress of Beanflower House and owner of one Amacker Bullwinkle.





Eric and Lisa gave me a yellow rose at the Beanflower housewarming party January, 2000.

I planted it today on her spot in the rose garden. I still miss her so . . .

More Beanflower photos . . .

Ishtar, Sue and Samhain miss her too. They demand more attention.

Some friends told me their stories. They are beautiful . . . I thought I'd share.