The story behind Smart Cat Gifts — and the Calico who started it all.
Smart Cat Gifts is a made-to-order cat-themed shop that creates apparel, drinkware, and home goods for cat lovers and cat parents who want designs with personality — not generic puns or mass-produced novelty items. The shop was inspired by Myrna, a rescued Calico, and every product in The Myrna Collection reflects that origin story.
A Calico, a Studio, and Zero Applause
A friend of mine ran a recording studio in Park Slope, Brooklyn. One afternoon, he spotted a Calico sitting across the street — coat dull, clearly not young, clearly not anyone's. He walked over and said, "If you let me pet you, I'll take you in." She did just that. Sometimes the biggest decisions are made in the simplest moments.
I'd been singing since I was a kid, and I'd stop by my friend's studio whenever I needed a place to practice. I'd usually warm up in the back room where I could do my vocal runs practice without disturbing anyone — the kind of warm-ups that sound questionable in a small room and worse with the door closed. Something launched itself from the corner. Scared me half to death. And before I could process what just happened, this cat started swiping at my leg. Every time I opened my mouth to sing, another swipe. Full commitment. Zero tolerance for my warm-ups.
My friend told me the story of how he found her. Then he asked if I wanted to take her home.
I looked at him like he was nuts and refused his offer.
But when I went back to finish my vocal exercises, there she was. Same corner. Same attitude. Same completely unprovoked assault on my singing ability. Her brutal honesty about my voice was one thing. But what got me were her eyes. You could tell she hadn't had an easy life. They were still warm and friendly, though. That's what won me over.
I brought her home that night.
Night One on a Deflated Mattress
We had just moved into a new apartment — still putting furniture together, still living out of boxes. The bedroom set wasn't assembled yet, so I was sleeping on an inflatable mattress. My spouse was out of town. Which gave me time to try to connect with a street cat I'd known for a few hours.
A thunderstorm rolled through Brooklyn that night, and Myrna disappeared into the bathtub until it passed. Fair enough. New apartment, new human, thunder shaking the windows — I'd hide too.
Eventually she came out and started making her rounds. Inspecting every corner. Sniffing every surface. Moving through the apartment like she was a home inspector.
I woke up the next morning lying flat on the floor. The mattress was completely deflated. Myrna's nails had handled that. She was sitting a few feet away, looking at me like I was the one who'd done something wrong. Rent-free on night one and already redecorating.
That was night one.
Three Years of Howler Monkey Screams and Belly Rubs
Myrna had this nightly ritual. She'd climb onto my chest while I was trying to fall asleep, start grooming herself — licking her paws, adjusting, licking some more — and eventually pass out right there. Full dead weight. And I'd lay completely still, barely breathing, because I refused to be the one who woke her up.
She also had a communication style I'd describe as "howler monkey having an existential crisis." She would scream at full volume. No warning. No buildup. Just blood-curdling noise from somewhere in the apartment. I'd sprint in expecting the worst — and find her rolling on her back, paws in the air, waiting for a belly rub. That was just how she asked. Subtlety was not her thing.
After she got fixed, she had to wear the cone of shame while her stitches healed. You'd think the cone would slow her down. It did not. She kept ramming into door frames at full speed because the cone wiped out her peripheral vision. She'd clip the left side, overcorrect into the right side, back up, and try again with the exact same approach. Never once considered slowing down. Never once considered that maybe — just maybe — the door frame wasn't the problem.
The cat hair was relentless. It was on everything. Clothes, furniture, food I hadn't even unwrapped yet. Who knew an animal that small could produce that volume of fur.
But if I was having a rough day — the kind where nothing lands and everything feels heavy — she'd just walk up to me. No agenda. No noise. Just presence. She'd sit there until I felt better. That was the thing about Myrna. She didn't do complicated. She just showed up.
The Part Nobody Prepares You For
We noticed a growth near her chest. Took her to the vet, but they missed it the first visit. By the time they caught it, we were giving her IV treatments every night. The vet told us to insert the needle near her spine. I doubt she understood we were trying to keep her here a little longer. After a few days, we had to stop. It was unbearable — for her and for us.
The tumor grew. We knew the pain was getting worse when she started lying down gingerly, like every movement cost her something. Then she started distancing herself and hiding under the bed. I'd spent years studying big cat behavior, and I knew what that meant. When a cat withdraws like that, they're telling you something you don't want to hear.
We made the decision to take her to the vet the next day.
On her last night, she laid on my chest while I laid in bed. Our nightly ritual, one more time. I didn't sleep. I just stayed still and let her be there.
The next morning, she was lying in her black and neon pink bed. I laid next to her on the floor and pulled out my phone. I recorded us — just me talking to her, saying goodbye, telling her how much she meant to me. Then I left for the appointment.
I sat with her for a few minutes in a room at the vet's office before they started. I watched the light leave her.
I ran out of there trying to hold back the flood of tears fighting to escape my eyes. I sobbed as I made my way back home, holding the carrying case that once held my friend. The guy who started it all — the same one who found her on that street in Park Slope — said something I still carry with me:
"The tears that come from the passing of a pet remind us that we're human."
What She Left Behind
Myrna passed over a decade ago. Her absence never got smaller.
I knew I wanted to start a business. I also knew I wanted a way to express what that animal meant to me — to honor the kind of bond that changes you quietly, without announcement, just by being there every day.
Smart Cat Gifts was born from that intersection.
Our logo — black and orange — is a tribute to Myrna's Calico coat. It shows up across our products and designs. Not because it's clever branding, but because it's where all of this started.
Smart Cat Gifts isn't an online shop that happens to sell cat-themed products. It was started by someone who lost a cat and, years later, still thinks about her often. Every design — whether it's sarcastic, sentimental, bold, or quiet — comes from the same place: the belief that the bond between a cat and the person who loves them deserves to be celebrated. With something real.
What We're Building
Every Smart Cat Gifts product is made to order. Nothing sits in a warehouse. Nothing is mass-produced. When you order something, it's printed and assembled specifically for you — which also means no overproduction and no unsold inventory headed to landfills.
The designs range from heartfelt tributes to the cats who've shaped our lives, to sarcastic commentary on what it's actually like to live with one. Because if you've ever had a cat knock your coffee off the table and walk away like absolutely nothing happened, you know the full emotional range. We make products for all of it.
Myrna started this. But it's bigger than one cat now. It's for every cat lover who gets it — the 3 AM zoomies, the shredded furniture, the weight of a sleeping cat on your chest at the exact moment you needed it most.
That's what Smart Cat Gifts is. That's why it exists.
Questions About Smart Cat Gifts
What is Smart Cat Gifts?
Smart Cat Gifts is a made-to-order cat-themed shop selling apparel, drinkware, and home goods. It was inspired by Myrna, a rescued Calico, and focuses on designs with personality rather than generic puns or mass-produced novelty items.
Why was Smart Cat Gifts created?
The founder rescued a street Calico named Myrna in Brooklyn, New York. After she passed, the desire to honor that bond — and create something meaningful for other cat lovers and cat parents — became the driving force behind the shop.
What makes Smart Cat Gifts different from other cat-themed shops?
Every product is made to order, reducing waste. The designs avoid generic puns in favor of bold, relatable, personality-driven art. Smart Cat Gifts was started by a cat lover, for cat lovers.
What does the Smart Cat Gifts logo represent?
The black and orange logo is a tribute to Myrna's Calico coat. It appears across products and designs as a reminder of the rescue cat who inspired the shop.