October Daze

Once More She Stops Me Finishing Everyone's Breakfast!!!

We are all well. She lets us come inside in the daytime sometimes.

Grace likes to stay inside mostly.

Sunshine, things growing.

She says: Delays and dentals. Sometimes only the routines around the felines were maintained, the brain was somewhat affected. Lots of photos. I'm learning the new camera.

I decided to put my Nineties Novel away for awhile, didn't have the mental space for a different research. I felt I'd have to be among musicians again, I was able to spell out the sounds of what they were about a lot better then.

Presently, I'm in the middle of a story set around an outback country school and quite happily fitting different characters to the kinds of circumstances I knew so well as a child...

Now without intending to I've begun to help some young musicians whose work I like with some publicity and pictures. It's a different world, different technologies, different history than that I began to describe in the Nineties. The Nineties characters still make me laugh but the door to that time is left unopened for now.

It's been time for gardening and writing.

Princess sometimes goes off her food when the weather's changing

It was hot, blowfly time in middle spring..

Yesterday she had a pork chop after I checked for diets in hot weather for an old cat in the Chinese Medicine Book For Pets.

Princess

This girl is a cat of cats.

She is proud.

When she lived in Melbourne, and her owners brought a dog to the place, she went underground.

When there was bullying which spread to Catland, she went bush and stayed away from food and water in a dry violent cold autumn time. Back then, She who began this blog after all those events, found Princess, noticing the little comical white nose & gorgeous colours at the back of the house up lane while doing Bush Regeneration work.

That was when Her old world fell apart which is Some Story. It was at that time Princess came to stay with Her and was a comfort indeed as worlds became more isolated.

Somewhere there are photo's of Princess as a kitten. She's being cuddled by my niece, a kitten herself back then and now a young woman on the edge of a career and many possibilities.

The miouw of Princess is hoarse and coarse, and still she loves it when folks stop and talk to her.

My sister works with old folks and she says that Princess sounds like an old lady these days, but Princess doesn't care. Warmth and love and care and gentleness are all that she deserves and finds.

She sleeps in the bathroom, it's easier to clean and whenever anyone goes to the loo, that way she can creep upon a lap.

Princess Ariel still spends some time on the front verandah on sunny days and she goes to the front fence to speak to her many friends when they call her name.

Me, I'm trying to remember the Princess age, she must be close to twenty recently.

When these wintery days are too cold or too windy, our Princess will stay in our warm bathroom on her little electric blanket. It's true that she'll have a bit of a throwup sometimes and so fresh towels must be constantly supplied but who cares? This gal is a miracle of survival.

It's more difficult for her to clean herself, her tongue isn't so raspy as it was when she was a younger cat and so she has a special brush. Her bright fur is still glossy.

She definately needs her cuddles every day.

When she goes to the verandah in recent times, she understands at last that not all cats will attack her.

When she lived Up Bush, She was being attacked and His cat also attacked Princess. It was a place of dire luck

These days, Princess finds her spot on the Verandah. Stanley, Sylvio, Ballanchine, Grace and Tabs all establish their own individual spots on our wide verandah and none of them attack her, our Princess, our old one. Some times Princess will hiss at them and say a bad word or so and the younger cats will retreat a little. They know she won't attack them.

We have a peaceful home.

However the cold can get to the old bones and the wind is sometimes uncomfortable and sometimes Princess stays inside and lets She change the towels and the poo box and then she scratches on her branch brought inside and yawns a bit, & she rests her old bones and dreams dreams which cause her to purr.

So many people love this old cat.

Relief

Princess Relaxes Despite Heat

She has to say,

It's so hot and Anna is away on holiday, bless her. We all miss her.

We have been looking closely at the forecasted weather and the forecasts were for much more  worsening hotness.

She went down the road too far for comfort to buy some cat milk after we all requested milk when She had Her morning cup of tea.

On that day it was 41 degrees and that was much too much but all the same She went out and bought Our Special Cat Milk which helps us feel cool.

She is working with the compost bin which Anna brought because much goes Off in this weather.

The new herbs and vegetables are being watered from the washing machine.

We heard her groaning, the forecast was for more hotness and we aren't allowed to water our gardens very much these days.

Then Tabs saw Her standing out front.

'Ants,' She said, 'There are a lot of ants,' she said.

'That says it will rain,' she said.

Late in this afternoon it began to rain.

It's still raining.

It's not cool rain.

The heavens are weeping for all the injustices of our land.

We have to cry on Australia Day, Invasion Day, the day of an eclipse.

Our fancy Astrologer said, 'Look to the heavens and if you see the eclipse there will be luck!'

She looked with us all to the heavens. It was grey but we felt good all the same because some of our garden will survive a bit longer..

Princess didn't even step onto the verandah to get away from the rain.

She lay on the footpath and her fur got wet.

Then She brought our Princess inside and Princess complained but later went to sleep on the cool bathroom tiles.

Summer Daze

Itching & Scratching

It's steaming hot and most of us are scratching.

The floor roarer has been going every day and She is brushing us more than usual .

We don't sit on Her feet any more.

She wears her Gum Boots inside.

Usually she wears them in the garden when it rains.

She says She's gonna fix these fleas.

For now they have us fixed.

Except that Princess who rules our front yard and her bathroom, she's not scratching!

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!

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.

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!

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Lawn

 'What Lawn, Pray?' (Balanchine)

Slowly but surely, the diachondra lawn is taking over centre front garden. 

Diachondra is a mass of round small leaves, a soft and comprehensive ground cover, which grows in many of our local bushlands. 

I’ve been slow with the garden here. When I work I use Bush Regeneration techniques, weeding around the plant which is central to the pattern, taking out the weeds before they go to seed and so on.

 

I’ve named the main lawn weed here ‘Sticky grass’. The long tall seed heads are sticky and the weed itself has a deep solid stubborn root.  It’s much more difficult to reduce than erhata which we called Bush Regenerator’s weed Up The River. Erhata also has small sticky seeds, the kind which stick to the hem of one’s jeans and then the weed pops up along the trails we walk. Jay, who taught me Bush Regeneration, told me that she’d found secret Special Weed plantations from following erhata trails.

 

I’m glad that there was no ‘sticky grass’ up the river. It’s a nightmare to shift.

 

In late summer I collect the whole plants with seed heads and throw them in the Green Bin. As the plant reaches the seeds into the light, it’s also easier at that time of the year to pull the entire plant. The rest of the year, it’s a matter of patience to pull and dig out by the roots the sticky grass that turns up through the diachondra and at the edges. So, especially after rain when the earth is softer, I’m out at the front for hours on end pulling stubborn little weeds.

 

Two of the cats have become fascinated with this phenomenon. Stanley, believe it or not furiously digs the sticky weed and doesn’t do this on the diachondra. He’s loosened several clumps of the sticky and can make it easier for me to pull.

 

Sylvio attacks my hands as I work, either biting (the hand that feeds him) or pushing my hands into position to pat Sylvio.

 

I don’t weed for very long if Sylvio is around and I do spend more time at it if Stanley helps. As for Sylvio, the only way to get much gardening done is to shut him in the Spare Room.

 

I told Anna about all this yesterday when I was showing her the lawn.

 

She suggests an essential difference in outlook between the two cats.

 

She says Stanley wants to be human and Sylvio wants me to be more catlike.

 

Could be something in it.

 

We went to see Princess Ariel across the road. She’d removed herself. She didn’t want company. She spent the day on Jos’s roof as it turns out. Jos called this morning from work, said that it’s getting colder again and maybe I should bring Princess back. I’ve just returned from looking for her. As it happens I can’t climb the Mulberry Tree to get to her on the roof.

 

I’m supposed to give her her medication. I guess I’ll try again a bit later.

pics and events

Sylvio & Carla

Sylvio is an alpha cat also.

He likes to meet people and he's insistent on attention, as much attention as possible.

Bally, the eldest boy isn't alpha. He's timid, always looks for reassurance.  Bally is the biggest size wise, and was formerly the runt of Scrap's first litter.

This morning Ariel went out to sun herself on Jos's verandah which faces east. The day is warmer than expected. Jos is going to bring Princess across the road before she sets out for Church at ten.

At 9.30 am, there's a knock at the door just as I start up on the net. 

It's Jos: "Have you got Princess?"

"No."

Princess has a good breakfast, suns herself, converses with Jos at length, and then disappears in an instant.

Her old tricks.

We wander around calling. I come back and finish my tea and Jos heads off to heartily pray for Princess in Church.

I try to go across the road to look around while Jos is at Church. Sylvio follows me up the street and penetratingly yells at me to come back as soon as I try to cross the road. 

I give in and return. It's all right. Jos comes dashing across the road to tell me that coming up the street, returning from Church, there is Princess, washing her face on the verandah.

It's a warmer day today. With cats, you go with the flow, or try to do that.

Sylvio Likes To Watch The Watchers

Etc & So On

Princess Ok I think.

My room is a new room now for her, as well as an older and less sorted version of a place she previously lived/stayed in before clearing out for Across The Road. 

She stayed limp on the bed yesterday. She had a pretty good feed. Not eating quite as much as previously, inside of front legs and on the neck shaven.

I took her over the road to stay at Jos's place last night. She drank some water and stretched and prowled and purred and went outside for a wee. I picked her up this morning. She would have probably been agreeable to staying outside & I didn't want to think of that with the arthritis.

So her day has been first a rest. Then an explore. Then a matter of going into hiding. Then I go to the kitchen. I return. She's back on the quilt. The tortoise shell is almost camouflage within the crotchet squares.

It's a day of rain and cold freezing weather. Feels like the snow is close. It's hard not to be annoyed with the person who pinched my collected firewood from Max's throwout earlier this winter.

The cats are mostly inside out back. The room brightens. It is sunshine and earlier than I think. I should do a lunch thing. I miss my lunches out, I must say.

More writing work. Sent an email to The Age about The Rivers.

I'm doodling with snappy summaries of favourite sites and blogs.

I love John Elder Robison's latest blog from Asperger's Land:

John Elder Robison

 

After a lifetime of exclusion, what do I get from the very crowd that purports to help people like me?

 

John Elder Robison’s blog about managing his speech to the Shrinks (and managing to hide the card that describes him as a ‘non-member’) is very funny.

 

This is the man who designed Pyrotechnics for rock band KISS!