I’ve been talked into this blog because correspondents of mine think I ought to share my writing about my cats and because it is a strain not to mention them on my other blog, the Renaissance and Regency Rummage Repository where I have some excuse to talk about cats if I get around to writing about Thomas Wolsey, famous Ailurophile and sometime cardinal and Chancellor to Henry VIII. Find me there at
I have six cats. This was not necessarily intentional.
I tend to have rescue cats who are considered difficult or impossible to home - Biff is the exception, our big black panther, who came to us when his owner, a friend, was having health problems.
six feral kitties just 5 weeks old and in need of TLC
His owner named him for his matutinal habits of poking one with a paw to remind any slugabed that it is breakfast time. Biff grew up in a derelict building before he went to his previous human and is a famous hunter. If I’d have him from the word go he’d have had to have been either Nimrod or Orion after other famous hunters… He doesn’t do mousework however, that is beneath contempt. Collared doves are the smallest of his prey, and he also likes Magpies. Suffice to say that they don’t agree with him awfully well and after he’s been out for a takeaway, sometimes he has the runs.
He has learned that ravens fight back and that foxes are downright nasty.
Jasper cream and white
Also known as Mr Softee, because of his soft fur and loving disposition. Apparently he was too wild to re-home. Nope; he was claustrophobic. Jasper and Biff are both 11 and have an attitude of mutual tolerance but they will sometimes play at three musketeers, eyes shut and head turned away, fencing with one paw round the door.
We took on Fenella when our much loved elderly Persian, Griselda, died; she has a flea allergy, pre-cancerous condition on her ears and a rather grumpy disposition. She scared us by disappearing for three weeks and was very thin when neighbours a couple of streets away found her and rang us, so we’re suspecting a shed incident. She is now recovering from her ordeal which as she’s an old lady – probably more than 16 – took it out of her. She’s extremely pleased to be home!
She’s a very good mouser, and sings loudly a paean of victory in the wee small hours over her kills which she brings to her plate and leaves for someone to cook for her….
She’s unlucky there though. Unless she considers being fed treats and told she’s a good girl to be a fair exchange.
Biff and Fenella in prime early morning basking spots
Jasper has a big white tummy that needs a lot of attention
And then the kittens.
We took on 6 feral kittens abandoned by a feral mother to socialise them; and decided to keep the two runts. After all, taking on the elderly and the sick can be heartbreaking and we though a couple of young cats who, if they avoided being run over, could expect a reasonable lifespan might be nice.
So then there was a third who was so nervous he couldn’t go out to just anyone…. So we ended up with three.
The mother was part Russian Blue and the kits show some characteristics.
about the only time they stay still enough to be photographed is when they're asleep....
She is what it says on the label…. The tiniest kitten in the litter and first always to explore. She’s now the heaviest of the kits we have, because her exploring takes her into helping everyone else with their food. Outside on a lead she invariably finds water to fall in. If there’s a crash anywhere, Rebel caused it.
A very British name; when we first had her I thought she was a boy, and called her Biggles after the fictional aviator because she has big white flying goggles; but when it became apparent she was a girl she had to have a name change and the female counterpart of Biggles, Joan Worralson aka Worrals seemed appropriate. She is almost as adventurous as Rebel and she likes to climb. Removing her from the top of curtains is a regular matter. She has the feel to her fur that is very like a Russian blue, and the habit of gently patting her humans on the face. It’s plain she was taken too young from her mother as she still feels a need to suck on my shirt, and on my pyjamas in bed.
Merlin could pass as Russian blue
No he’s not named for the wizard.
When we first had him, all he said was TISH! and was a right little spitfire; well Spitfire planes have Rolls Royce Merlin engines and when he purrs he sounds like one…. It more or less went with Worrals too as Worrals the pilot used to deliver Spitfires in WW2. He has the sweetest disposition and he too likes to pat faces and snuggle up under chins. He’s desperately shy though.
Rebel very rarely stays put long enough to capture on camera, Merlin and Worrals know how to pose though