So, what's been happening this month? quite a lot. Biff has had a dental which has made him a lot less bad tempered though his rheumatism is still paining him. I sent for some Glucosamine with chondoitrin from my previously favourite health food company and when the big 1500 mg size pills arrive [ones I'D have trouble swallowing] I realised when I read the instructions the morons had only put an extra label on saying it was for pets as they dose they suggested was a human dose and they talked about consulting your doctor. Simply Supplements are not my flavour of the month. The vet however has reassured me that if he will take it crushed in food there's no overdose, he'll pass any excess through.
As you can see he's tolerant enough to let Rebel sprawl on him....
Rebel has decided to take on the role of her departed sister Fenella; she has appointed herself mouse catcher in chief [she can now manage to kill them and proceeds, like Fenella, to sing over them] and to plant herself in the big tub of grass. The grass is becoming the worse for wear underneath her after having recovered somewhat from Fenella...
She then gave him a thorough washing.
It's' usually Merlin and one of the girls in a cuddle so I had to share one of Rebel with Worrals and in the most ridiculous position.
And I have to finish with an upside-down one of Worrals being sillyputty.
The cats have mostly declared April to be inoperative however; the outside room has a roof that almost always leaks. It's very remiss. And the skyheater doesn't work either.
Sunday, 29 April 2012
Thursday, 26 April 2012
This is the first two days from the book I'm working on, 100 years of cats, 365 tales
Tom-Tom’s story goes back more than a century. He was the only bakery cat that Master Baker Charles ever made a pet of. Perhaps it was because he was such a helpless little ball of pale gold fluff as a kitten; he looked up, and Charles was a doting foster papa more than just an employer, in a time and place where cats normally had to earn their keep.
Tom-Tom grew up to be an expert ratter, and over night used to leave a pile of rodent corpses on the back doorstep to display his prowess and sit over them, his face plainly saying Look How Well I’ve Done Saving The Flour From These Rampaging Rodents. His attitude on eating rat when he could be fed was to give anyone who suggested it a LOOK as though to ask And Would You Eat Rat When There’s Better To Be Had? Charles reckoned that as he hunted for the joy of doing his bit in the bakehouse he deserved to be indulged.
Tom-Tom had his own chair at the table with his plate on the chair; and he would sit up and beg like a dog. His helping went on his plate and he would eat it daintily, then sit politely and wash his face while everyone else finished. He was a very good natured cat and would ride in the little girls’ dolls’ pram. But Charles would never permit his daughters to abuse Tom-Tom’s trust by dressing him in dolls’ clothes. Tom-Tom lived to a ripe old age – especially for a working cat at the beginning of the twentieth century – and died at fifteen just before the outbreak of the First World War.
Basil means kingly and the name suited our hero down to the ground. Basil was black and white and had a penchant for striking regal poses. His nose was as aristocratic as any that might be found on a pedigree Siamese. Basil would have told you that It Was More Aristocratic Than Anyone’s Nose. In his house and neighbourhood he was cock of the walk, even in his last couple of years, at twenty years old and more. He held dominion over two large cats, a Labrador and a terrier, not to mention his human slaves. Basil did not walk; he progressed. And he was never seen without his dignity.
In a new neighbourhood, when his humans had moved, an ageing Basil could expect to be the target for established cats; but with consummate aplomb and leadership he marshalled his forces.
Sitting at the end of the lane, he looked a perfect target for aggressors; and many an established cat decided to see him off.
Halfway up the lane however was a big clump of bushes; and any marauding cat found out too late that hidden within them were Marvin and Kryten, Basil’s cohorts! Basil sat and smirked; Hah, My Minions Have Managed To Show Them Who Is Boss! He seemed to say as Marvin and Kryten routed all comers.
The lesson usually took.