No destitute cat ever refused admission

My last post mentioned that a cat owner’s home without a cat is just a house.

When my little cat Sox passed away, for a short time my parent’s house became just that. A house barren of cats. The cat community had other plans though, and it seems my parent’s house soon became the local branch of feline Dr. Barnados.

I had been used to this growing up. But nowadays, despite not actually owning a cat themselves, my parent’s still have to take a trip down the pet food aisle when they go shopping to feed the many waifs and strays that frequent their house.

To my knowledge no destitute cat has, or ever will be refused admission.

As cat philanthropy is rife in our family, it seems only natural that my house has also become the feline Dr. Barnados in my local area.

I live with my two cats Minnie and Cochen…They are the only two of permanent residency. The only two on the electoral roll and census.

Alongside them though, there are a number of cats who drop in and out of my cat halfway house.

They are….

Fatty Ginger*

Fatty Ginger* sleeps outside my back door. He is always gone by morning at the twist of the back door key, without so much as a kiss on the cheek, or a thank you.

Roger*

Roger* is constantly fighting his demons due to a small tail complex. I try not to mention it in front of him, and I never answer him honestly to the “Does my tail look small in this?” question.

Pete*

Pete* next door, I think has ADHD and is incapable of jumping on a windowsill without falling off it. I think Pete* might also think he is a pixie, as he has taken to sleeping right at the bottom of the garden beneath the tree. Pete* always has a look of absolute surprise on his face whenever he is disturbed.

Don*

Don* “The Don” is the size of a German Shepherd.  When I say German Shepherd, I mean he’s the size of an actual human shepherd from Germany, not the dog. Don’s* favourite pastime is to play garden Mexican stand off with me…. He wins.

Meryl*

Meryl* is BFF to Minnie. Meryl* is fairly problem free, but does hang around an awful lot. Way too much in fact. I think she might struggle with social boundaries, so I may need to ring her parents and ask if they can sit her down and have a word with her.

Previously there has also been….

Polly the 1st, (you can read about her herewho’s blood was laced with droplets of Lucifers and who’s main aim in life was to rain evil on mine, and Polly the 2nd*.

Polly the 1st’s successor. Slightly less evil but far more cunning.

Polly the 2nd* knew my movements more than your average stalker would. One time just as I was leaving for work I remembered I’d left my lunch in the kitchen. As I opened the kitchen door, I found Polly the 2nd* breaking in to my house through the window. I have little doubt, she had been performing a stakeout and had downed her binoculars thinking the coast was clear… She made a hasty retreat that day and was gone before her crowbar hit the floor, but I knew she’d be back.

Would I stop any of them helping themselves to my garden? My home?…. and I’m sure at times the contents of my fridge, my cupboards and my purse?… Of course not, because no destitute cat is ever refused admission.

*Names changed to protect true identity…. and because I don’t know their actual names so made these ones up
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Would you rather…..

A very quick post from me tonight whilst my blogger’s block is still at bay.

Today at work a group of my colleagues and I mused over the following hard hitting issues affecting everyday life in society today….

Would you rather….

Be attacked by a dwarf wielding a big sword or a giant wielding a toothpick?

Have a quaver for a nose or wotsits for fingers?

Be a monkey with the brain of a human or a human with the brain of a monkey?

Pee yourself in public or poo yourself in public?

(There seems to be a split according to gender on the last one, with one of my male colleagues saying “I’d poo myself, contain it in my pants, drop it off at the toilet and be back on the dancefloor throwing some shapes while you were still drying your trousers”)

The usual productive day…

A family of cat philanthropists

From tattered Medieval rags, Tudor ruffs and codpieces, to Victorian corsets and parasols, the kindred blood of my ancestors all have one common trend…..  Beside them is a cat… Probably secretly planning their demise.

A lot of behavioural footprints left by parents are filled with the steps of their children.

Children who see their parents smoke are more likely to smoke themselves. Fact.

Children who see their parents acting as cat philanthropists are more likely to become cat philanthropists themselves. Also fact.

I’m a cat philanthropist, and you can blame my parents, parents, parents, parents, parents, parents, parents, parents, parents, parents for it…..

There is a saying that a home without a cat is just a house.

I don’t believe this to be true. I’ve been in plenty of cat free homes and they feel just as homely as those with cats.

The only difference is, in a cat free home, the wafer thin ham in the fridge is for human consumption, and there is no ’emergency’ tin of tuna in the cupboard.

I do believe though that a cat lovers home without a cat is just a house. My parents home, the home where I spent my childhood is testament to that. My first cat was called Jaffa. He was the first family pet if you ignore Adam & the Ants, the collection of goldfish won at a fairground… They weren’t really pets and Adam ate all the Ants after a few days anyway, so basically it was just Adam the goldfish. Not much fun.

Jaffa was a beefy ginger tom.  Strong, obstinate, belligerent, cantankerous and intimidating…. All the qualities of a good cat. Quite late in Jaffa’s life, not long after his retirement, after he’d hung up the chain of his professional duties as Mayor of the cat council on our street, we had an addition to the family. Sox. My Sox.

The story of how Sox came to live with us is a remarkable example of fate working at it’s best. Sox was mine. And I was hers. I loved Jaffa whole heartedly, but Sox was the first cat I formed a profound beautiful bond with. No better illustrated than what happened the day she passed away.

Jaffa had taught me the basics of understanding the complexities of the feline mind, but Sox polished my skills to a level of expertise.

I always got the impression that Jaffa just tolerated my brother and I most of the time because we just happened to be already living in the house before his arrival.  He could see my parents were quite fond of us, so trying to rid them of us was probably quite futile.

Sox on the other hand was genuinely affectionate. A lady. We could sense each other’s mood  instantly. We knew when a tickle under the chin or a rub against the legs would make it all better,  or whether to stay the hell out of each other’s way.  I could tell from her meiow, her brrrt and her purr exactly what she wanted and needed, and she could tell from my tone exactly what I wanted and needed.

Some advice… never laugh at a cat. Cats have the amazing ability of knowing exactly when you are talking about them and in what context. It’s usually when they are fake sleeping. One ear is tilted in your direction, one of their eyes is ever so slightly open and the tail is delicately swishing at the tip. Classic neuron receptor pose.

Don’t be fooled, as to the untrained eye, this looks like a normal sleeping cat. Behind the scenes though, there is a hive of activity. Their brain is processing everything you are saying and filtering anything they can use at any given date in the future into a long-term memory bank. It’s the part of a cats brain called the “Infinite recall lobe”.

Think twice before you regale the amusing story of when the cat stretched and fell off the back of the chair.. If it’s in earshot, it will know you’ve told. By earshot, I mean if your cat is within a ten mile radius of you, it will know you’ve told.

This is why a content purring cat will suddenly lunge at your unsuspecting hand as if someone has just screamed “Chaaaaarge” in it’s ear.. She’s just remembered that November last year you stepped on her tail accidentally when you went to the toilet in the middle of the night. She saw it as no accident.

A cat wouldn’t tell you if your skirt was tucked in your knickers, or you had toilet paper stuck to your shoe, but would surprise you with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine when you’ve had a bad day.

A cat won’t text or return your calls for weeks, but will then turn up at your house unannounced for a coffee and a gossip….. and not mention the 17 missed calls and 36 texts she’s ignored of yours.

A cat keeps you guessing.

A cat is the best pet in the world.

Greetings…. cards.

A very quick post from me tonight..

I’ve mentioned that I like laughing and I like stupid things that make me laugh.. These greeting cards caught my eye in a shop in Hay-On-Wye when I was visiting a friend over Christmas. I found their website and I absolutely love them.. (Thats a hint friends and family for future Birthdays, Christmas etc)

Choosing the right card for the right person is very important. Sometimes I like heartfelt sentiment in cards that makes me cry when I read them, and sometimes I like nonsense..

On the ladder of creative nonsense, these for me are at the top. I’m quite jealous at whoever came up with them. I want a little bit of their creative mind for myself.

http://www.hazelbee.co.uk/

I hope you enjoy them… because I can’t help but laugh at them..

Beyonce Knowles tribute act!

All the single Kittys, all the single Kittys…

Now put your paws up…

Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh….

Some life thoughts and observations

I’m sure I will add to the list as time goes by, but I’ve spent the last 10 minutes jotting down some observations and thoughts….

They are… (In no particular order)…

  • In school, teachers who didn’t want to be bothered always put their tie over their shoulder to make it look like they were in a hurry
  • Everyone will Google their name at some point in their life…. and probably be disappointed with the results
  • Sentences that start with “I’m not being funny.. but”, always end in an insult
  • Tea & toast always taste better when someone else has made it
  • Sometimes, for a split second, you can’t remember if dinosaurs were real or not
  • Every person in the world has fallen up the stairs at least once
  • “I’m fine” is code for “I’m furious with you”
  • Everyone has a pair of old trainers for gardening, and an old t-shirt for painting… and never wears either for each job
  • “It’s fine” is code for “It’s not, and I’ll be bringing it back up at a later date”
  • You’ve subconsciously judged every photo on Facebook of everyone with the same name as you
  • Nobody believes the message on Sky that your remote batteries must be replaced within 10 minutes
  • The three most important words to a child are…. “I’ll time you”

Feel free to add your own……

Top 10 things to do when you’re bored

1. Give yourself a makeover…..

2. Pretend to be a giant (a healthy eating one)…….

3. Pretend your cat has a go go gadget paw (and fights crime with it)…..

4. Find food products on/or in cars…….

Baguette spotted in a car in Normandy

Potatoes found on a car in Bath. Potato!

5. Glue a Hannah Montana cut-out to the hands of a sleeping 35 year old man……

6. Perfect the art of a strong handshake by practising on your cat…..

7. Go on a day trip with a deer……

8. Become a master of disguise…….

9. Pretend your cat is Marlon Brando in the Godfather…….

10. Browse the internet whilst enjoying a drink that sums up who you are…..

If the wind changes, you’ll have an apple tree growing in your stomach

I’ve already mentioned in an earlier post that I believed there was a lucky boy in Swansea who collected footballs when I was younger, so it got me thinking about other things I believed as a child.

I’ve split it into two sections. Lies I was told as a child that I believed, and explanations I conjured up in my own mind and thought them to be true.

Lies I was told that I believed. Why wouldn’t I?

“If the wind changes, you’ll stay like that”.  Believed it.

“If you eat apple pips, an apple tree will start to grow in your stomach. Believed it.

“Thunder is just God playing the drums”. Believed it.

“If you stand on your head all the blood in your body will fill your brain”. Believed it.

“I’ve got your nose”. Believed it. In fact, some uncle of mine who wasn’t really an uncle, just someone I called uncle has still got my nose.

“I’ve just heard on the news that all the strawberry opal fruits have got poison in them for girls so you’d better give me yours”. My brother told me that one. Believed it.

There are a lot more I’m sure, but I want to move on to ideas and logical explanations I had for things in my childhood mind.

A mind when it was easier to think, yet harder to understand.

A mind before Scepticism set up camp there, met Cynicism, married her, then she moved in too, giving birth to Doubt, Suspicion and Knowledge not long after.

Everything I believed made sense at the time, and seemed the only reasonable, plausible explanation.

Where babies come from

When I overheard conversations like “So and so has had their baby, is was 6 pound 4″…. I used to think that Mammys and Daddys had gone up to Heaven at night to choose their baby and had paid £6.04 for it. I thought Heaven was littered with babies with price tags on them, and you just went up, chose which one you wanted, paid for it and came back down. A simple purchase from God. Once you’d paid for it, it was yours to keep. Forever. I also thought that Heaven looked like my attic because whenever I heard anyone talk about it, they always pointed upwards and gave the impression it was really high up. I knew the sky was high up, but I was more savvy than to think you get babies from the sky! The next highest thing I knew was my attic, so I just presumed that Heaven was everyone’s attic.

Waving or flashing your lights at drivers to say thank you.

Whenever we went on a car journey, I was always amazed at how my Dad always seemed to know where we were going. At the time, my world consisted of my house, in my street. I didn’t know how to get anywhere other than to the top of my road. I used to get quite scared that someday when I grew up, I’d be expected to know how to get to places. What if I got lost?… But then I used to think it’s OK because I’ll know plenty of people everywhere I go, just like my Dad does.

The etiquette of driving is if someone lets you out, or you give way to someone, you or they give a little wave, or a little flash of the lights to say thank you. Just a little grateful acknowledgement. Now, as an adult, this really annoys me when people don’t! As a child when this used to happen, I thought that my Dad had seen someone he knew, because you only wave to people you know. You’re not supposed to speak to strangers, so therefore you’re not supposed to wave to strangers either, or flash your lights at them. You only wave to people you know. I was amazed that my Dad knew so many people wherever we went.

 

Clouds

I  believed that planes could land on clouds, and that’s where people went on holidays. That’s why they always came back with a tan, because they’d been closer to the sun.

The nit nurse

When the nit nurse used to come to school, pull your ribbons and hair slides out and run her horrible aged hands through your hair until she’d made you cry and you couldn’t get a comb through it, I used to think she was evil. Now as an adult, I understand. The nit nurse was indeed evil. But I also believed if a child had eggs in their hair it meant that in a few days they’d hatch. Once they’d hatched they’d have birds nesting and flying around their hair. I thought that would be brilliant.

I’m sure there are a lot more, and I’m hoping this post instigates some childhood memories for those who read it. What crazy things were you told as a child, and what did your wonderfully imaginative, innocent, naive childhood mind believe?