Christmas Crazies

Jos Caresses Princess

The heat is on and so is Christmas madness here in Sydney.

Another dental run yesterday and the first crown improves my smile.

So warm yesterday, Princess wanted to be out and about and I took her across the road before I set out. Now late in the evening the following day, I've only just retrieved her after she spent some time on Jos's roof wailing.

I'm tired. Mr Rudd's Christmas present for pensioners means that I can buy a much needed computer programme, it means bills will be paid and I also wandered off to China Books to discover which healing manuals I can afford.

I talked to Jos. She's been over here several times since Princess began to spend more time here just to call on her Fi Fi. This flat is so long,  I don't hear the front door.

I think Christmas could maybe be saner in a colder place. The cars, the anxieties, the angers. At least I don't have Rex The Ex's annual Christmas smashups these days!

I promised Jos the Mobile number.

Steamy Evening

A troubled week is predicted in the heavens, so some folk say.

I am concentrating on peaceful resolutions and safeties.

Sylvio's most recent car was closer. You get a fright, that's a good thing.

Anna brought an exquisite Margaret River Camembert, deliciously sloppy by today.

When Grace came inside she tasted it and even when I took barbecue chicken in for her and slimmer Stan, she just said she liked the cheese..

Princess, well I give her herbs when her nose gets dry and her temperature rises,

She spends time inside during daytime and if times weren't so tough, Anna would be taking her to the vet and saying well it LOOKED like Princess was on her last legs last time.

Today, Princess did get expelled to the bathroom after she peed on a library shelf, but Scrap consented to come home last night and.. I guess Princess felt like she needed to make her mark, today, just to say to Scrap, 'Well Sucks, I'm here too!'

O, it's like every other complicated relationship.

I shared my bed with Princess when I was so ill Up River and later.

I adopted Scrap because I thought that she and Princess might bond. I got ill AGAIN etc.

I minded a coupla dogs & Scrap was OK as a kit, but Princess got badly done by in a couple of Dog arguments.

If Marvin weren't bad enough, after Bindi, Princess cleared out back to where I'd sheltered in Col's room for a time.

She bonded with Jos. Then alas, as I described some time ago, she got seriously crook.

Now this elderly girl needs attention and special care. I'd initially imagined that Scrap and Princess might tolerate each other when it all first happened, but there are matters of pride and precedence.

Princess in the daytime means that Scrap can come at night time if she feels like it.

I find I'm having long talks with both.

More fans of the Mobs stopped to talk today.

(Anna says she'll do a card with a pic and this blog number for all the friends we make each day.)

It's a hot spring night, howling cats over toward the northwest, storms threatening and humidity has had us crawling through today. Typical Sydney.

All are inside excepting for Scrap and Tabs and the She is winding up energy to go and call them.

This Little Silver Boy

A Beautiful Sylvio Boy

She worked so hard today at some writing that might sort a few things out.

Ah and She felt it might after talking about it all with Alan and Col earlier this evening.

She came back late, a warm half moon lighted night, but She left some doors ajar and several of the little ones slipped out.

She's now recently talked to most of the neighbours and has explained that she has the nourishing food here and not too many biscuits here please on account of possible later kidney damage and kind friends are saying they will look out for these Special Ones.

We have the fresh food as the biggest part of the diet and well, look at little Princess, she's not too bad for a cat her age. 

Too many of the bikkies are OK for a bit of breakfast, but not too many in the long term.

Princess isn't going to Jos's place too much now.

Scrap, who is in indignation about More Cats! ( We have Aphex from next door as well as one Princess), has moved across the road to flirt with Jos and Col and Mick. She's a sweetie, little Scrap. I tried to explain to her, I even held my hand out for her to scratch if she liked and she did.

Poor hands.

Tonight, exhausted after a full day at the computer in which I tried some Fine Writing, I came home after my break at the Pub so tired and I left some doors ajar. I'm even tireder right now because I just came inside after trawling outside with the torch.

Stanley said he wanted to stay outside and be a hunter. Bally is outside too. All the others came inside to my coaxing, little darlings.

One little one has me worried, one Sylvio...

After a very long stint on Computer and satisfying writing, this afternoon, I went to the Front Verandah.

Sylvio across the road, saw me with delight and rushed to meet.

That speeding car screeched to a halt and only just missed him and She is not yet recovered.

Yes, She's met most of the neighbours, good folk, good big back yards.

I, She spells out that even if they are accidents, She has very lovely little pussy cats.

I've now put out the word that if anyone would like a highly intelligent light hearted little silver mackerell tabby who is desexed and immunised and microchipped, that if they live in a casual place without too many cars and desire a small companion, why this one has so far only risked two of his little precious lives.

Sylvio is a beautiful boy.

Oh, Oh, both Scrap and Princess mind their journeys across the road. Sylvio sees She and he runs without thought and O dear one, No.

I held him tight, I said to him, you aren't allowed to be run over.

This time though, he was scared, his little heart beat fast!

Dear God from whom he is descended, Please Protect him!

Friends

Camera Shy

Talking

And here we are, all of us, all the different ways of saying Miouw!

Stanley for such a dominant big boy has the peepiest little miew? with a question mark which is maybe why he is so charming because he will work his way into a conversation and with a little but powerful voice he will spell his cuteness!

O Stan, we all bow down.

There are different miews, different expressions on little faces.

Baby closes her eyes as her little miouws become heartfelt.

Princess's nose wrinkles horizontally as she utters her yrwouurrr's in her low voice.

She vocalises more than any pussy cat I met before. Mostly complaints recently.

Maybe at her age she has a lot to complain about with arthritis and so on.

Then there is Sylvio.

Carla when she visits puts out a high note.

'Ahh Syyyyylviooo, dear Syyyylvio!!!???'  and he comes running from wherever he is hanging out to be patted and appreciated.

Goodness, he's the little one who will follow me up this street which has somehow attracted more cars and thus he is shut in the spare room these days when I go out!!!!!!

In the in between times, there he is at the front door when he's not enchanting every passer by.

It's 'Mrr mrr mrr mrr mrr mrr' without a cease.

He knows She is writing in the front room, he knows that she will hear. He knows that when the cars had come close to hitting him on the dentist day, She worries still and he insists all the same that he has to say that he is Sylvio and here he is and this is his own form of hunting to say, 'Let me In, Let me/Feed, I am a Boy who Needs to Be Inside, Mrrr, Let me In!!!'

Yesterday, She brought him inside.

She'd slept late.

The Back of the House Cats ate quickly and left to play outside.

Little Sylvio in inside bliss, ate the back of the house Breakfast food and ate on until he threw up in many places.

She didn't give him so much food today when she eventually went outside, but that's OK, Sylvio likes to be noticed as special, even if it's just to be shut inside.

A Coool Cat!!! (with a few lives left still!)

Last week,  when She staggered home from the dentist, feeling pretty bad, there were the neighbours feeding Scrap and Stanley and looking pleased.

No No, She said.

A few biscuits in the morning but not too many biscuits!!!!!

They are little tigers. In the wild they gorge because it may be some time before they kill again.

No No.

You feed a little one too much, it's not too good!

Too much bland tucker may damage the kidneys and shorten the life span and for a treasured little one, the fearful passing can be awful.

I know this because some cats I loved were over-fed and some of them ate biscuits only and that wasn't good for their health...

Princess Gal has great kidney health for a gal her age and is only rarely incontinent.

It's all about diet really.

Wish I was feeding She Self a bit better but O well!!!

Dentals recently, much too serious, thought for awhile a stroke might be on the way. Resolved into a horrible cold.

I love the We Three Cats Site So much.

That Dragon nearly had us there this past month or so!!!!

and

She tired

We are bein fed and we don't say

Adventures

She sick, sore teeth, sore head.

She came back from Dentist, Sylvio ran to meet, nearly got run over, 

She yelling, Carla scream.

Sylvio OK.

Princess run up tree, can't get down, She climb after Princess.

Grace get lost, She look, She call and hears the echoing cries of a small Grace.

Grace locked in next door Garage, comes, late for dinner.

And So On...

An Exquisite Greyling!

Did I say all that before?

I'm struggling at present.

What's new?

My little ones struggle less on account of Anna's help.

I applied to a pet mag for help in terms of monitoring ads. They never answered.

Dear Google, thanx.

I dunno about bein' cast into the depths of poverty by projection. Hell, that happened when I got tangled up with Muso's and I was believing that since I learned to wreak scorn on them I may get BEYOND poverty!

That being said, I watched Australian Idol when I read that Cyndi Lauper was a consultant and wow, it's been more exceptional than expected.

I've got so much in my folders and notebooks to post, but I'm working on income and I'm pretty amazed by the preventative processes.

Sorry guys, I know there's great new photo's, I've just been trying to catch up on me novel and also obsessed by styles of writing.

I realise my little camera is OK for portraits & am planning a portrait blog, but the little ones with the light coloured eyes don't show so good.

Therefore I present our exquisite Greyling as I catch the shine in her sweet eyes!

Over The Road

Queen Scrap with Feather & Stanley:

'No-one told me that Kittehs could be tedious!'

I had a good day, long lunch with Mike, I was so unrelentingly positive I exhausted meself.

Truth is, I'm scared. When will I earn?

Later I stopped and talked to Jos.

She was worried. Seems like Scrap is breakfasting Over The Road these days!

Scrap didn't appear on That Verandah this morning.

As we spoke of the little one, the small pirate face peeked over Maggie's fence.

Scrap, AKA Caprice, had heard her name.

She came dancing across the road to greet Jos, ignoring me.

She wouldn't let me clean that divinely fluffy tail of hers even though she's accumulated a few weed seeds.

Has there been a transfer in Catland?

Oh, it's all too complicated.

Anna thinks of adopting Stanley. With White Feather and Delicate Fred, Stanley is a good clean inside cat and Anna and her partner leave their cats inside in daytimes while at work.

I'll find Stanley's early pomes one day.

Possibly Anna will provide some channelling in times to come.

Jos still loves Princess AKA Fi Fi.

Princess Fi likes to spend days across the road sometimes.

She is so old, so old. Strange when I remember her as a kitten so long ago.

She didn't even want to come into my room to watch the street today.

Time Wise

She realises that She's not mentioning Stanley as often as a lordly cat deserves, but Stanley is doing very well. He sleeps in the Spare Room with Sylvio and Grace and none of them have participated in the mass breakouts through the broken window this past week.

Worried that I don't give them enough attention in the evenings, I went in with the brush to offer them some quality time. Sure, traipsing through the house and garden doing bits of work between computering, I meet and I greet and so on.

Until I was in the room I hadn't quite realised how clean the three cats are. They carefully use the tray, even tearing newspaper for extra coverage. They don't spray to mark their nightly possession of the place and none of them required the brushing which is applied to all the other cats as they shed their winter coats.

Last night only the basics were carried out  because as it turned out, it was one of those eventful evenings.

Firstly I found some tacks and nailed cardboard covering to the window both inside and out.

Lucibelle and The Greys were astonished.

Princess had demanded release and for the second night she disappeared. The previous night she'd not only escaped by herself but she made it across the road. With diminished hearing and sight, she probably felt the vibrations of the traffic times and the quiet times.

Yesterday was warm and I'd carried her across the road after their breakfast and my first cuppa. With the fussing around the window and other processes it was late when I went to bring her back here. She wasn't on the verandah or inside with Jos. Black Tom, invisible in the darkness, had mounted guard on Jos's verandah. I patted him and we had a conversation. Scrap was  with him and flitted into Jos's place as Jos and I spoke. Scrap visits Jos, but doesn't stay.

I went with the torch tccch tcching, the evening signal to call the cats. No sign, though Scrap came back with me and with an air of conferring enormous honour, accompanied me into my room to eat her dinner. She hissed and swore when I tried to pat her.

Why do we put up with such insults when cats begin to own us?

Back to the spare room to feed Stan, Grace and Sylvio.

A knocking at the door. Jos says Princess has turned up out of her hiding place and so I fetch her, wrapped carefully in her old blanket from Jos's place.

No complaints. 

Two late nights, she's tired, old thing. It's clear that when the medicine is working, she remembers being a young cat and even if she was never particularly brave, she likes to recall her ancestral heritage.

On balmy spring nights it can be understood why the little ones like to run free.

But a gap in household safety is like a gap to the spirit of all of us. When the window was agape, none of us were getting on very well. I thought of calling the Agent, but the window is my responsibility in this case. The handyman should be here this weekend. Last week the leaking roof and the dodgy electricals were fixed by the Agent and all feels good and getting better maybe.

(OK, in the old ten room house I rented way back when, with a window blown in by a gale, I could have called the owner in, but hard to believe, I was paying $10 per week rental for that place so generally, I sorted out repairs myself. It was good. Even car repairs were carried out by a neighbour in exchange for tutoring a daughter! Life was kinder there in those times. I'd leave the doors unlocked when I went to the city for study just in case any friends dropped by in need of a cup of tea.)

The back garden is delectable right now, a mass of pink Evening Primrose and the mauve Heliotrope is still blooming. The Elder is a mass of white flower and yesterday, to my amazement, I discovered that the Comfrey has begun to put out its Ashes of Roses coloured blooms.

It wasn't so long ago that Princess arrived unwell and unsteady on her feet, refused her tablets utterly and I had to dig out the just sprouting Comfrey from an almost bare winter garden for her medicine.

Another large house with good neighbours close by and an adult Anna to help with problems is a very good thing. Last week there were nightmares and restlessness everywhere. More recently the dreams are good and there's more hope in the world somehow.

My Poem is Published! Now for the Novel which is already written and boring to transcribe from hard copy, but there it is and here we are!

She Now Has Weight

The old order is rapidly changing.

After the delay to my dentals, deep work on the teeth is a necessity. Sometimes recovery can take quite a few days.

Frequently after treatments I get claustrophobic or horribly sick or lonesome.

On one such day last week, when I was behind in house work and self care and worried about how slowly my writing was proceeding, I packed my pen and my note book into the rucksack, changed my coat, applied lipstick and set out to the pub to try to get my straggling thoughts in order. 

(If I'm writing, I then may increase my potential to earn from work at home, or at least that's what I'm hoping!)

No point in saying I should have stopped to think things through. When I'm close to panic, there's no room for such an option in the hurrying brain.

At least the rush to an alternative universe worked some. 

I filled several pages of the blue notebook my mother gave me long ago which I'd previously used to note my work in music.

These days the blue book contains streams of consciousness, fragments of dream, literature and poetry while most work recalling music has become somewhat disbelieving.

Feeling calmer with a few words under my belt, I returned, as I believed to the computer, only to discover that I'd left my keys behind as I fled after inspiration.

Therefore I took the alternative option of access through the kitchen window, which is where I found that my bodily self is larger than it was.

I'd noticed that the boobs are a bit bigger. The kitchen window is narrow. Thankful for the small private backyard I took off bra and shirt as well as coat. The access previously was to curl and tuck in the bottom as I squeezed through to the bench inside. Once on the kitchen floor, I would then shut the window and return to the back verandah amid astonished cats to recover shoes, coat, bag, underwear or whatever else had had to be shed in order to gain the tricky access.

As I did the little turn necessary to bring the legs into the equation, there was suddenly more bottom than previous. The expected slide against the window glass didn't occur. The glass broke and the cats scattered. A small cut on the tummy meridean in front of the ankle was luckily my only injury. 

That cut healed fast, but the window is still broken and all our routines and procedures have been severely damaged ever since.

I now carry the spare key in my purse when I go out.

Anna has plans to bring a handyman in soon for some essential repairs, for some shifting of older furniture, much from the Daigon alley throwouts, to be replaced by newer things.

I've taped cardboard to the window. I've tacked cardboard to the window. I've piled planks and heavy obstacles against the window and every night since I inadvertently broke the window, my cats, so carefully shut inside each night have managed to escape into the warm spring evenings.

In a former place, where Anna spent much of her childhood, a window broke one stormy night. I measured the pane, I jumped into my car and drove to the hardware store where the friendly chap cut the glass to the right size and gave instructions on how to fix windows. He provided other necessities such as putty and linseed oil. 

That was a very old place, older even than this one. In those days, we were close enough to the ocean to get the full force of South Australia's Southerly gales from Antarctica. When I checked the other windows, it became apparent that the putty holding the glass in most of the windows had weathered to almost nothing, so I spent a few weeks cheerfully re-puttying all of the windows and the best thing about all that was that our windows ceased that terrifying storm rattle.

As to this situation, I have no car and I have no means and I broke the window so I have to wait.

I'm not much good at waiting (obviously). If I can't wait for my words to come back of their own accord and must hurry forth to find them, then that obviously shows a degree of intolerable impatience.

I remind myself that I'm still waiting to earn after all, and once I can earn again, perhaps there'll be less waiting for ordinary things like essential repairs and that new pair of black jeans I've been thinking of for awhile. 

I guess said jeans will have to be in a larger size by then and that is a surprising thought.

Slimmer Stanley

This Collar Needs More Work!

(PS, Is that really Allan Stivell on the mantle piece?)

Gossip

A Princess Relaxing On Her Couch.

Stan Says:

Cats are everywhere. She isn't feeding me as much. I tried to get rid of the pesky collar and the collar is still with me. Lately, we don't see so much of some cats. It was cold and then it was warm. Things can be strange. I don't mind while I get my food.

PS, She has been talking to people in the street.

Suddenly there is not so much food.

She says:

The little ones will come inside when the weather is cold.

Recently, warm weather has returned and Bally and Tabs haven't come inside so often.

I worry about our local birds, but we can't protect everyone. The sad heap of pidgeon feathers on the lawn across the road are the result of a magpie who I saw bringing the pidgeon down. My cats may get the blame.

Oh dear, things get too complicated sometimes.

Princess finds that her mixture of herbs and medications are doing her well. She's spent time with Jos again.

On the other hand, Scrap is a bit outraged about having another cat in the place.

Yesterday I went over the road to talk to Jos and pick up Princess. 

Jos says that the Scrapling has been over there charming everyone.

I told Anna.

She said,

'Well Scrap thinks that since you've taken Princess from her Person, maybe Scrap thinks that she should adopt Princess's Person!'

Now, how do I explain that to Scrap?

Uncharacteristically, Scrap has been peeing in my room since Princess arrived in distress and in need of care.

In the meantime, Baby has concluded that sweet soft gentle Grace was secretly The Cat In The Mirror who frightened her and whenever she sees Grace she attacks her.

Yes, times can become difficult.

Anna cleaned up the bathroom where Princess dwells.

Princess spent the weekend previous with Jos, but was weak, her back legs failing when I picked her up.

At home with her medicines she's OK but she once got bullied by another cat, a runt I guess, like Baby. Princess doesn't trust Other Cats at all, so it's a relief for her to be taken to her friends over the road.

Princess lived here when I first moved in. I thought she'd relate to tiny kitten Scrap AKA Caprice, but she didn't.

Jos loves both, and Princess is special to her. She's named our Princess Fi Fi. Yesterday as I held Princess in my arms, Scrap slipped into Jos's house. Jos is kind. She laughed. I feel that Scrap may have ran inside to make her mark, but I didn't say that and I hope she didn't.

Every time I see people talking to my cats, I talk to them. Little blighters are communicating homelessness. If someone wants to adopt them, OK, but I am saying to people, these cats are well fed and it doesn't help to feed them because then they don't come inside!

Baby And The Stranger Cat

A Hiding Baby

Recently, Anna helped me with a big clean up of the kitchen. We moved stuff around and a mirror which had sat on the bench for some time, was shifted to rest against a book case until such time as it finds a new place. 

I hadn't realised that this would make such an impact on one Baby silver mackerel tabby cat.

The camera wasn't even to hand when Baby discovered that there was Another Cat staring at her full faced in aggressive mode from the mirror. Such an insult was not to be tolerated, and brave baby as she is, she launched herself at the offending feline. 

She was alarmed to meet cold glass and immediately investigated behind the mirror in order to deal with the the situation properly.

To her mystification, there were no cats of any description behind the glass. She emerged and again she saw That Cat and again she attacked and again the slippery feline had got away.

I was laughing so much that I was a bit helpless about it all for awhile.

Eventually I found the camera and was in time to catch a picture of a small Baby Cat safely in her hutch hiding from the intruder. 

Update

They are all inside tonight, the sudden dose of snow in the alps meant that they were at back and front doors crying to come into the sheltering warmth of this place.

She, more root canal therapy yesterday and more to come.

Yesterday, I forgot to take my acupuncture needles with me and today I felt so lousy I had to cancel the Counselling Session.

OK, I got up late today after yesterday's dentals. Why have I been dreaming about Brad and Angelina so often? OK, it was a joke when the quiz asked should they adopt more kids, I said, well I'm a grown up kid, they could adopt me if they like.

When I was a small person, I adopted all the thrown out dolls I found. They all had their beds and I attended to them every day, even when they were legless.

I think of this as I clean the trays and feed the little ones.

Tabs has consented to sleep closer to Balanchine tonight. They loved each other so much before the nightmare crap. The vet was inside the pub buying more whiskey tonight.

It's kitten season again. Roscoe says he's prepared to adopt any that come by his way.

If they are young enough to cope with his dogs,

Updates

Checking The Back Yard: Our Roof, Our Tabs, 

I was too tired to go looking for Tabs last night. She hides out in a shed at the end of Daigon Alley if she's having second thoughts about coming inside with the mobs. Sometimes second thoughts are caused by one Black Tom. Not allowed inside at night himself, he'll sometimes prevent Tabs and Scrap from coming inside here. Maybe it's company he's after! Scrap and he have been friends since they were kittens and he also likes Tabs.

I had counselling again on Wednesday. Although the place I go is a short distance, I was worried about being late and RAN for the bus. Not far. The pain knifed into my joints immediately and I was reduced to a hobble. Yes, I've run a few times lately, when the Big Wind came and I had to fetch frightened cats, and every so often I run a bit or dance for the joy of this beautiful place. (Odd, dancing doesn't cause as much pain as running, though both usually demand some recovery time.)

Anyway, one of the boys from the White Goods Store next to the bus stop held the bus for me as I hobbled the last few yards and the physical effort that followed has ensured a few days of pain and limitation.

Not having the wherewithall to look for Tabs and Scrap bothers me much more than the lack of movement at home and round about the place. After all, I have the computering and I have the writing and study work and I can always catch up on the house work later.

Yesterday I pushed a bit more physical effort as I dug out an infestation of Onion Weed which is amost awful weed. Every bulb sends out a multitude of smaller bulbs and one has to try to get each tiny bulblet out as well as the major plants now getting to the flowering stage.

(In times past, when I worked at Bush Regeneration Up The River, a major annoyance was the number of gardeners who'd drive up our way to secretly dump a Ute Load of Onion Weed from their gardens! You can imagine what that feels like after you've carefully and gradually worked around areas with most natural growth so that the most determined weeds such as Farmer's 'Friend', Compton Weed, Privet, Lantana, Morning Glory, Erhata, Paspalum, Tradescantia, Flea Bane, Turkey Rhubarb and so on are finished off bit by bit, only to find an onion stinking pile of That Weed, which is The Worst because it's so difficult!)

(Bush Regeneration is odd work. You can work for years on your various patches but if you speak of the work, people are puzzled. It all happens so gradually that they honestly don't see the difference. Successful Bush Regeneration means that eventually, your place will look as if no other hand but God's has ever touched the place. For the educated eye, it might be compared to cleaning layers of dust from an old landscape painting. Suddenly, after much work, the Bush reality is crystalline, pure!)

Because last night was the night for the Green Bin, I also trimmed back the Marguerite Daisy which has become so large that it's reduced the space available for the two different Lavenders growing on either side.

As I trimmed, there was a light furry slap on my wrist. I looked down to see Stanley's little quizzical face.

'Excuse me, but WHY are you messing with my hidey hole?' he said quite plainly.

I tried to tell him that with thicker Lavender, the hidey hole will be eventually much improved and that made me realise I'll have to harvest the Lavender blossoms for those bushes to grow thicker quick enough for the little ones to maintain their secret spot where they can examine the street and watch for their friends.

Stanley was very gruff with me last night.

I didn't have a camera in the Bush Regeneration days and I haven't yet got into the habit of photographing my work here yet. I must say though, that if anyone has an Onion Weed Problem, then dig it out gradually and persistently and throw it into the Green Bin, not into the Bush or the garden next door. An application of Roundup early in the growth phase will help, but it must be remembered that Onion Weed Bulbs grow very deep and the poisoning may spread to more delicate flowers. I lost a season of Heartsease that way!

Princess reports that even if she needs a little more rest than she needed in the past, she likes to get out and about as often as she can. OK, so She has to carry a Princess to and fro across the street but any suggestion that Princess can no longer climb the Mulberry Tree is a lie. Princess has an obligation to Mick because Mick's been in Hospital and needs company so it is the duty of a Princess such as she to keep him company as he sits and recovers on the back veranda! Princess remembers Hospital and even if it helped her Get Better, Mick has her sympathy.

Too Much

Plotting The Escape

It's too much to have too many cats when resources are so short.

At least I have the space and Anna helps so much.

Last night, Tabs mounted an escape strategy. First of all, all the darlings were inside and fed. Then Tabs got the lounge room door open and slipped into the front where she teased the front window open. I didn't even see it as she led Balanchine and Baby outside. 

Tonight I left the front light on. Bally had come inside from the back door and I welcomed him after his characteristic yowling at the back door.

Baby had been the first to accept her food in the afternoon. Much purring.

The routines, the cleanings fell onto place.

Truth is, I'm worrying about us all. I want good homes for the little ones. 

Sylvio, Grace and Stanley usually come inside early. The other Greys also come in early.

When they are out, I worry about dogs and cars and cruel people.

Just as I  sit down to write, there's a cry at the font door. It's Tabs, she who I take the torch to the streets to search when she hasn't turned up for her tucker.  Tonight she's rolling and purring and saying that she's sorry she got out last night, Saturday night when there's drunken whooping in the street and when dogs bark. (A most beautiful and gorgeous tabby cat, she's had her troubles). 

I feed her in the hallway and then I put in the kitchen/dining area with the Greys and Bally.

Tabs was one of the cats who was very boyish. I was horribly ill when the dental infections hit my sinuses last year and that's another story, why those delays happened. With the infection deep in the sinus, with a great deal of general physical pain, I wasn't holding them on my lap for awhile. Any touch especially loud noise was unbearable. They'd stand on the kitchen table for a purry pat and that was that.

It never occurred to me that I might have got my readings wrong.

I took Tabs to the vet, I thought when that fatal dewdrop shape happened,  they might say how many kits there may be?

Bally, well he obviously had to be de-sexed and they were a most loving couple. Tabs looked like a boy, I said, Gay cats, how charming. The vet interpreted the consultation to be not just the de-sexing of Balanchine but also a very late term abortion for Tabs.

Well there was this tooth that should have been fixed in about 1997 and the Dentist was trying to save it because OK, I'd been to bad Dentists before, there'd been delays and I was trying for a partial plate.  The tooth had got very bad. I was half way through root canal therapy that Friday when I took Tabs in for the check up and Bally in for the de-sex.

The Saturday morning I turned up to pick up both cats it turned out to be one of those mornings full of huge dogs and loud people.

My head was splitting. I apologised, 'I am only over the road,' I said. 'Can I come back just before midday when your work is done and pick up my cats in quietness?'

The slutty vet said, 'Sure.'

I got a call, she had to go out, but she had to come back to complete work later, she said, and she would call me and could I pick up the cats then, a bit later in the day?

I asked what time, she said she didn't know. It seemed strange, but I said 'OK'

Three hours it was I sat by the phone and eventually I went out back to make a cup of tea.

I got back to my office. The call had come five minutes before. (Dammit with the Dentals, my brain wasn't working well enough to make sure they had the mobile number as well as the home number in my room and I'd made sure I had the Mobile with me out back.)

I dashed across the road bare foot. Noone there.

'?' I said. The Vet said she had half an hour's work to complete and would call me the minute she got back to the Surgery! I'd missed her call by exactly five minutes!

On Monday morning I was there first thing. My little ones were grateful to see me, but that Vet who'd done the operation screamed at me for neglecting my cats when that gal had come back 'especially' so that I could pick up the cats on Saturday afternoon!

I was so upset I was late for the Dentist on that Monday morning, it was a long time before I could stop crying and both cats were crying also. The weekend of non-charming people continued, the Dentist told me the notice was too short and that I shouldn't attend his Surgery again. I lost the tooth eventually.

That gal vet, I've seen her with many partners since. Once I saw her with a boyfriend. They were carrying a cat in for a treatment on a Sunday afternoon. More extracurricular activity, I guessed.

There was a time when I said to Anna, 'I've met some horror Doctors, but I never met a bad Vet.'

She said, 'Well Doctors have a career, but Vets love animals and that's why they do what they do.'

OK, Vets may have too much to deal with, they may become irritated by irresponsibility, but if a Vet can leave traumatised cats unfed and untended in cages for a whole weekend when I only lived across the road and it was she who postponed the meeting...

And the outcome of all that is that Tabs will pick locks and open windows and doors as often as she can.

That's why we catch a cab to a vet in another suburb these days.

I do Acupressure and Massage, I do tender work with poor traumatised little Tabs, but we don't go to the closer Vet any more, I've seen how much whiskey is consumed by that lot.

Anyway, my Tabby gal came inside tonight. I fed her. I cuddled her, and I can't let her in my room because wherever she is, she's always trying to escape. I think of her in pain and grief alone in a cage unfed and crying for two days.....

I encountered that gal vet in the street not long ago with a fifth or so boyfriend.

She said, 'Hi'

I said, 'You!'

A question in a recent counselling session was

'Is there anyone in a social situation who you glare at across a room?'

At first I said No. I've had a few annoying quarrels with people, not many. Most were with those who offer porn solutions to assist my single status who then become horrid when I say No Thanks. (A bit too traumatised still by what happened with Rex the deadly ex to even contemplate a social life with a NICE man at present, let alone a creepy type!) (Besides, I have to concentrate on my dentals and on getting myself some paid work in order to make sure that I don't end up with another situation where proper valid work is destroyed by someone else.)

Then I remembered that I see that Vet at the pub on occasions.

'Yes,' I said, 'In fact I glare at a person whose passion for self indulgence created fear and trauma for two of my beloved companions.'

I don't think that counts as obsession altogether, it counts as wariness, as not forgetting any of this, even though it's been very hard to write of.

Both Tabs and Greyling (AKA Greyboy) were very masculine looking and behaving kittens.

I was horrified when having carefully left both inside at nights that they'd still got pregnant.

Greyling was the one who I'd decided to take for the operation because I felt that she'd cope better. Not as far gone, less intense emotionally than little Tabs.

The horror of that weekend affected us all. I couldn't take Greyling to Those People. That's how our population increased by five, that's how Sylvio and company arrived one Autumn day.

In the meantime, Anna had also had a bad experience with the closer Vet and one of her cats. So she found a new Vet who's terse and uncommunicative but who loves cats. If this Vet gives her word she keeps it. She'll talk more to the cat than the owner in a consultation and I like that.

This new Vet is more like the Vets we knew in the past.

Ch-ch-changes...

Valerian: For Nervous Disposition.

She Says,  

Times are a-changing, & it's hard to keep up. 

Donated a poem to a mag & they accepted straight up. 

When the writing worked before, it was in radio and there were many who called & wrote good things to me about that work. There were criticisms too of course, most valid and most from me. They only made me more determined. 

 

Realisation of Asperger's would have helped back then, but it was really That Awful Dentistry which set me back in terms of paid writing work. Bad dentistry jars the mind, the tool required for proficient writing. Then, even after the most essential treatments have calmed the mind and improved the writing, you find yr words are out of fashion. And the then the dentals get delayed, although some symptoms of psyche and relationship improve.  

Even when everything has changed, the work has gone on. It's been a constant.  

I have to keep going, after all, I have felines to support.  

Most of all,it's the weather which has been changing constantly. Bright searing heat on Monday, then suddenly,a sheet of black hail cloud is approaching fast from the North East.

She runs to fetch Princess from Jos's verandah. The wind is starting as she's running, Princess in arms toward the gate, scared cats approach and run inside with no attempt to play hard to get. 

The sun glaring and blaring against the blackness is startling. Cats inside, I do my rituals, I turn, I secure most windows, leaving vents for pressure change, I light incense, run outside with camera and trip over the netting for the sweet peas which has blown across the verandah. Stunned for a moment, a blessing is muttered, the sensitive trees stroked, then inside to place the net more tidily, misplace the camera and while looking for it, comes the dragon roar while icy coldness whistles into our shelter. The cats eat OK, & cleaning's OK, then as the noise intensifies, the cats are alarmed, edgy, snapping at each other. 

Princess is howling in the bathroom. I pull out Valerian root, a sedative. A pack goes onto Princess's bed above the electric blanket, which, (switched off when heat assumed the day), is now on again and earthy Valerian scent arises. 

Then, back in the lounge room, Valerian is placed in a wrap beneath the cover of the couch and she sits to get the smell alerted. 

Cats huddle close and gradually relax. Little Tabs asks for extra caress and contact. The nerviest of all, she's soon sound asleep.  

Big she waits for the other edge of the storm, but the dragon has moved on fast to land, as we later hear, on Campbelltown where it takes some roofs and kicks down some trees and makes for some blackouts, but noone is hurt, thankfully.  

The days turned beautiful warm with scent quickened by ice cold shadows and sharp breeze. There's been some rain, some heavy but not drenching. The Quince blossoms blew away but the Pear Tree is only recently begun to blossom, so that will happen soon. Girl and boy Gingkoes have put forth leaves and Elder is blossoming.  

NB, Princess wishes to add that she's feeling quite well and also much younger and that she goes to Jos's verandah more often than described previously.

Friday

Inside Cats

The cats are introducing me to more people and especially to more children.

The cats act charming, they curl up under the flowering bushes looking graceful and whiskery and they accept praise and worship from us all.

Princess doesn't come out of her bathroom nest very often, but every few days she's restless and wanders around with her characteristic cry which sounds like a hoarse Wowwr!! Wowr. On those days I take her across the road to visit Jos and Mick and to assume her old place on the verandah where she has watched the street go by these last eight years or so.

Not every day. A day out, then two day's rest.

Even though the vet said that her kidneys are remarkably good for a cat her age, she sometimes pees in her bed.  More work for she but Princess still does her cat work, slipping out from her curtained bed, saying hello, lip marking the red shelf in the bathroom, accepting caress and praise, then slipping back to bed.

She's eating well and her arthritic back legs are less shaky than they were a few weeks ago.

She can still leap onto my lap. She can still run nimbly up Jos's front steps although I'm not sure that she still ascends the mulberry tree to get to Jos's roof.

She said she wanted to go out in yesterday's blistering heat. As I carried her past our front gate, she had the energy to hiss at Scrap, who looked  surprised.

Me, I didn't do much at all, a bit of study, a walk to the Post Office to pay bills, some kitchen work and so on.

I collected Princess in the evening. As I chatted with Jos, Sylvio dashed across the road to talk to us. Friday evening's traffic is always dense. Jos and I were frozen with horror. Sylvio timed his run well. I brought him back first. Usually Sylvio, Grace and Stanley are inside by evening time being the first of all the cats to enquire about dinner....

Next time I'll make sure he's in before I cross the road. He's too daring, that small silver boy.

So all are inside and fed except for Greyling. I try to fetch her a few times, but she dances away. 

I go outside to look for her and notice fine drops of rain.

Too tired, too hot to bring the washing in earlier, I get the basket and fetch the washing, not even bothering to fold it.

When I return to our small back yard, the garden is full of silver whiskery faces, mischievous and mysterious.  I'd closed the door without locking it and it must have been Zorro who teased the door open.

They've had their dinner and now they aren't going to come inside, thanks all the same!

I go to get the camera. The pattern of the little faces among the flowering silvery mauve heliotrope and the silver dragon shapes of the artichoke is lovely. They are all in the wilderness by the time I return to the garden and No, when I call, they will not come.

I give up and go inside.

The rain gradually gets heavier and pretty soon there are faces at the kitchen window.

"Can we come inside now please?"

"Oh, all right," she growls.

But Lucibelle and Balanchine didn't escape. They knew the rain to be on its way.

She Sings

Three Green Men

In the beginning of this blog, I mention that I've studied dreams for many years.

I include a recent dream here because the cats are present and also eventually, it includes She, (the cat’s ‘mother’).

(As a youngster, I decided to write out my dreams in order to disprove Jungian Theory.)

I gave up on certain disputations in my mid twenties although the habit of recording dreams remained. Looking at the underworld helps us understand the world above, (the dream world of course, being a weird and surreal looking glass reality). 

That’s what I conclude after three decades of keeping such records as explicated by my subconscious and the subconscious of many people who've shared their dreams with me at different times.

This is from a few days ago: 

Me and Rex the Ex are at SBS. (Sydney’s Multicultural Media Channel with whom Rex and me at one stage had much trouble in terms of a Voluntary Project). 

SBS is exactly as I saw it back then, a collection of warring shanties after the move of Radio from Bondi Junction, who had somewhat helped us, to the new site at Artarmon over on the north side of Sydney.

Me and Rex, we had to sleep there. There was a sort of soft surface room and a few blankets which we had to divide among many diverse people.

I'm so tired that I look for a blanket and find a spot as quick as I can. Then Rex the Ex says,

"Oh no, there are cockroaches in this blanket," and I say, 

“So What?" (I am that tired.)

He pulls it away, saying, 

"We will not sleep here!"

OK, the room is full of people about to bed down. Among them I see iconic sports commentators, Rampaging Roy Slaven and HG Nelson. They're OK, they are dealing with the madnesses and eventually they go somewhere else.

Rex finds a good blanket and at last we sleep, lying crosswise from the spot that Roy and HG had recently slept.

It’s a clean blanket and a good sleep.

The next morning we wake and there are things to sort out. I'm doing the business as I did back then and I travel through various Departments. At one time I discover people discussing Our Project (which in the Wake World came to naught). They're saying,

"If they don’t work with us, they will work their project through the ABC!" 

(The ABC being Australia’s Other Public Broadcaster.)

They're being very disparaging about us. 

It's time to gather our energies.

There are an awful lot of cats outside in this hilly countryside region. I recognise my little cats with whom I'm living at present.

There are people there who are clothed in the aura of Religion saying that all the cats must be killed.

"No way", I say.

Rex and I have a very nice new white van.

I collect all my little ones (which is a very complicated process).

You know how it is, you put one cat in the van and another escapes, and so on, but eventually all our cats are inside and we set out.

There’s a phase where we're going through a tricky part of the road, quite deadly. A narrow path, and it seems that there are spikes on the railing beside the road. As a driver, I look at these spikes more closely. They are little iron horses. Suddenly, I'm by myself, working my way down spiral staircases and various narrow opportunities to get to the road. I clutch an iron peg to help me descend at one point.

I cling to bits of iron to help that descent. Somehow I’m not separated from our van because that's how realities can go in that instance.

Rex is still in the passenger seat and all the cats are with us and suddenly it eases up so that we're driving along the highway and I'm singing a song whose major lyrics are She Says, She Says, She says, and we are going very good.

WOW

So busy at this time with many many things.

The tutoring work is in the foundation phase here.

I've got the new card thanks to Anna.

(Much cheaper than when I first got the camera.)

We all hang on the weather.

A recent stinking hot day, a chilly change.

Then a warm day with marbled cloud.

With kids in the place I took Princess across the road this morning.

We went to the park, returning when the thick clouds came.

A long walk & I rested while Lucy slept.

Lucy is a little gal who's visiting lately with her big sister Mina.

I'm so glad that I have kids in my life again.

When I returned to the upright world after my rest, it was freezing cold.

I picked up Princess, she was trembling, shuddering, poor old gal.

She's had her tucker, she's had her medicine and now she's warm again.

Sylvio's Mystery

We all welcome a delicious day like this. She even skips a bit, arms wide, heart singing. All of the little felines are a-hunting, whisker-quivering, they raise the left front paw and move inside through wide open doors. They tease the inside doors to investigate all the biscuit bowls for stray biscuits, they check the hallway to see if there's something in the can to scoop before the can is binned. The block of wood is still wedged against the fridge door, but it's worth a try because the fridge is a most delectable place for one Zorro, even if he got stuck inside for a good ten minutes once during kittentime. She has recently placed a bigger block of wood against the fridge door and phooey, it won't move, but what's this in the kitchen corner?  It's a cupboard ajar, a cupboard with the big big pack of biscuits. Lucibelle helps Zorro, but then there's something of more interest, the busy buzzing of a blowfly at the kitchen window above the sink. (The Blowfly is the surest sign of Springtime!)  Crash goes a plate and everyone flees.  Cautiously they come back.  The cupboard door is closed, the plate swept up, the finger is shaken, Naughty, NAUGHTY!! And they all run off to chase the butterflies except for Stanley who settles on the verandah in order to closely watch the street.  She is cooking again, but clumsy after her illness spills some food on the track suit pants which are rinsed and hung on the line still dripping. Sylvio is entranced.  (He loves water, he tastes it and teases it and wets his ears and paws with it and he's the only cat who danced around in last week's warm rain, enjoying wetness.)  They have all accompanied She to the clothes line in next door's yard and they run up and down the loquat tree and do some chasing, when Sylvio discovers that water is dripping from above.He wriggles his ears, he licks the drops, then he sets off to examine every inch of lawn to see if dripping water comes from above anywhere else. It's very confusing sometimes for a cat who knows what he likes.

Fresh Stuff

Which one was that ancient Greek Philosopher who claimed that illness is good because recovery is bliss?

Phew.

Anna came by yesterday & met our new gorgeous neighbours.

I did some cleaning, well quite a lot compared to when I was ill....

O it's still so smelly in some places.

Phooey, I've only been doing the most basic work since the illness hit me.

I can do the Dyson, the dishes and the surfaces, but!

I been only doing essentials and I haven't been sociable enough with my little crowd.

They are 'marking' to protest.

My sense of smell is only recently returning.

They hit the cushioned chair.

They hit my smart new rucksack (by the way, thanx Leeton for a great rucksack!)

(Sorry I dropped in on Roscoe with my rucksack ponging!)

As smell returned, I realised that the spraying process even hit certain spots in the kitchen.

(Which yesterday I scrubbed with diluted lavender oil!)

The couch is a write-off but I'll air the covers tomorrow.

I got younger folks visiting next week. I have to conquer some smells.

Truly, I do want to be further down the track, but my little critturs are saying, 

'Where have you been?' (PS, 'We could go even more feral if you like!')

Blissfully warmer weather, sunlight on back verandah in the mornings, ah, this place is a good place. Great light. Books keep coming in and with fabulous neighbours I'm doing some gardening at least.

I've got books to add as promised, and I have music to add as promised.

That's because Jez helped me.

I thank Brendan, Jez, Lucy, Mina, and we don't forget Aphex!

I thought I had too many cats until I checked the following site.

The Pussies Galore post on http://littlecatdiaries.blogspot.com/

WOW!

New Bits

Need a new card for the camera.

Lotsa stuff ready to roll.

New books, new note book writings, new possibilities.

Just to say, thanx to everyone who's stayed in touch.

A new level is happening mostly thanx for the counseling, I guess.

I am awed by those blogs I list & by new things I've not had time to indicate.

Check my new books and music etc tomorrow!!!

Love,

Health Problems

Zorro: Why you wakes me up?

It's very hard to take a pic of Zorro because he's very shy. 

Soon after he was born, a mean Tomcat came round and tried to kill him. (One reason to take responsibility for kitty cats is that Toms will try to kill them off so that the little females go on heat again!)

I rescued Zorro as a shrieking terrified kitten and he doesn't really trust very much ever since. He is a cute lad though and he is definately Mama Greyling's favourite fellow feline. She's gentle and wise, he's an affectionate sook with big brimming eyes and a very hoarse miouw, possibly from shrieking while Greyling gripped him by the scruff as she tried to face off one mean mean Tomcat!

His name came because when all the kits ran in a bunch, he'd leap over all of them and streak ahead. Even when tiny he could leap to my shoulder height and I'm not short! He seemed to be so brave and daring. Finally when most of the previous litters found homes, the grey kits could be brought inside from the laundry. 

I didn't see Zorro for four days. He went into hiding. His apparent daring I think was the fear from his early trauma. The early bravado which earned him his name was all gone by the time he crept out from behind the clothes rack.

It was hard enough to take pictures of modest Greyling. It's been even more difficult to take a good shot of Zorro. When I get the card for my camera, I'll try again!  When he suddenly appears from under the flowering bushes, his eyes wide and ready to run, he looks amazing, but I've not been quick enough yet.

So much to read, so much to understand.

My persistent fluey head cold has been very sticky. I keep getting about on certain days. Then even that keeps on being too much for me. I worked out a few herbs that have me feeling better today. It's easier to treat other people/ animals than myself. I miss my brilliant Acupuncturist, Gabi.

There's a lot in my notebooks which I'm editing for my blogs. Yeh, I had another go at the first blog I tried & I'm writing more about my studies there. I'll include it on my list, OK?

In the meantime, Princess, Ariel, Little Cat, the Old Cat of the Tribe has become ill again. It worried me that Jos didn't want to provide her with an electric blanket or a hot water bottle when Princess, now nearly Nineteen is so much bothered by arthritis. 

After her recent illness, although I went over the road to say hello to the little one every few days, it wasn't until Jos called to say Princess again seemed unwell that I went over for a closer look. The fur shaved for her hospital drips & tests hasn't even grown back yet, and the serene one was uncharacteristically in a very bad mood indeed.

So I brought her back here. There were early signs of dehydration,  little elasticity in the scruff of her neck, and now I'm feeding her a diluted herbal mixture with an eyedropper. Thankfully she's looking and sounding and walking much better.

I put her electric blanket in a nest in the bathroom, giving her privacy with a towel for a screen.

Initially, she stopped trusting this place when I cared for Marvin, a nice enough dog who needed a temporary place, but then he chased Princess and terrified her. Princess then endured until I cared for the second dog. (There have been a lot of people 'between homes' in Sydney recently with this rental crisis and pet owners are most seriously hit).

The second dog, Bindi, wasn't aggressive, but Princess decided that enough was enough and she departed. At present there are no dogs here, although there's a rather bad tempered little chap across the road who's chased Scrap once or twice. 

(Last time he engaged in cat chasing, Scrap and the younger cats disappeared into the Wilderness which he can't access and His Dogness went back to the tree which the cats like to sharpen their claws upon. He was sniffing and marking as I crept up toward him. One sharp handclap above his head and he was off, not seen since.)

Princess's eyes are failing. It seems as if I may take her over to Jos's place on sunny days at times, but perhaps she will have to be an inside cat mostly. I'd hate Dogness to attack her while she's so weak and he does get out since his folks have been renovating. 

I had thought that she should spend more time here when she was ill before, but Jos missed her and she missed Jos and Mick and Col and so on and so again she crossed the road...

Yeh, maybe this little cat, a companion for so long doesn't have much time left. While her fur is shiny and while she can enjoy her food, enjoy company and purr, I'll do my best for her.

When I lived Up The River, I was horribly, hideously ill for a long time. I could raise myself on pillows, I could reach for my books and I studied a lot. There were several good essays yet to be copied from notebooks and I never felt entirely functionless.

My Uncanny Ex Man was nuts. He became cruel and horrible and it would have been a totally isolating time except for one companion, a small cat by name of Princess.

Even when I was in the worst pain, she lay close to the pain and for a very long time she was my only friend, even when Ex Man smashed everything up including me.

Somehow Princess and self  both survived. Somehow I owe her much. She likes her nest in the bathroom pretty fine. It's a lovely big bathroom and a good private space.

Small Queen Scrap likes to stay in my room of an evening. Then Scrap ventures forth early each morning when then I bring Princess back to my bed. I've thought of trying her here in the room with Scrap. It's a big space and Scrap is a gentle girl. I guess I just worry that Princess would worry too much with failing vision, & that maybe Scrap could get frightened and attack her.

Besides, I have to prove to Princess that I'm not hiding another dog somewhere.