Recent Tidings

Greyling

I've been away from blogging for a long time now and there are many reasons for this.

Initially it was the horridly infected tooth. I barely struggled through the day back then. The cat routines kept me going, the feedings, the conversations, and of course, also the photographs brought some light into another wise dark time.

My wise, kind, understanding Dentist was at the time, alas, overseas.

I could have gone to the dental hospital I suppose, but the cost of being treated as badly as that over worked place treats people was too much to contemplate, as ill as I was.

My beloved Anna helped with house work and shopping.

I was too ill to call immediately after my Dentist returned. When he did return, I was too out of it from illness and pain to call at first. When I finally managed to do so, the only appointment was a month in advance. January. Apparently his growing clientele had all missed him as much as I did.

I'd used Acupuncture to deal with immediate pain, and occasionally had even resorted to anti-inflammatory pain killers which I rarely use.

I hate extractions.

It's taken awhile to recover, but since then, the felines have had more quality time and, grateful for this, are busy every evening competing in terms of their various forms of charm.

Stanley is still evidently finding extra food. During the times when I was very much house bound, I got to know more neighbours and I asked them specifically not to feed our Stanley.

I don't know enough people in the street behind Our Place to talk to them about a cat who can turn on such immense charm as Stanley can in order to get some extra tucker. It must however, be said of Stanley, that when one is feeling lonely, sad, in pain and so on, he's a wonderful armful of beautiful cat, and he's as gorgeous, as knowing and as whiskery as ever.

If he's in the mood, he'll even deliver a soft kiss to the lips. I never knew a cat to do that before.

We had news a couple of weeks ago that Samson, Arial's fluffy golden-ginger brother passed away from kidney disease.

I have to correct my estimation of the age of that litter. Along with Arial and the beautiful Squeak, their birthday was eighteen years ago this month in Bondi, children of Mummy Totty who moved elsewhere by choice when the rest of us had no choice but to move.

Arial's arthritis is now in her front legs as well as the back legs. She requires considerable gentle massage. I also apply massage points learned from the Four Directions, Five Points book on my list and have tried to take on the dietary advice offered therein.

Arial has become very fussy about the food I offer her. She eats with good appetite when she eats, but sometimes refuses everything I offer. I suppose that it's no big deal when the rest of the tribe are happy to finish those servings later in the day.

Arial continues to hold conversations with our neighbourhood human friends and, as for moustachioed Max, the cat who moved into Artist Max's old place, Cat Max turns out to be nearly old as Arial and Madame relishes turning him away with some very bad language when he attempts to visit.

She also enjoys guarding her uneaten food from the other felines. Having been bullied by another cat in a previous situation, she loves to be brave these days. On the days when she wins a feline quarrel, she purrs a lot.

Arial accepts all the food that Jos across the road brings for her.

Sometimes she tries to follow Jos back over the road to our old place. At that point I pick up the fragile old cat to take her to her nest in the bathroom until she forgets...

I focus on Greyling today who is the sweetest lovingest BEING I ever met with the exception of Arial's sister Squeak. Squeak would politely greet every guest who visited us back in that second Bondi place. Arial is more shy, but her eyes shine love for those who she loves and she's adorably affectionate.

Greyling's first name was Grey Boy, what big balls she had, and what a mistake that was!!!

We're all intrigued by new noises which have emerged from behind the fences since The Financial Crisis hit. Can one rooster crow all day long? No. Gradually, we've come to realize that there's more than one place where people have taken to keeping poultry in these large back yards. The continual yelling is, I guess at least three roosters crowing at each other.

This place feels more like a country town than ever. Not so many paddocks all around though.

None in fact, although the cleaning up around the river banks down the hill has created some wonderful native park land.

(Too far away for our cats, but that's good.)

As for my Novel, I complained to Anna that the page which the word programme supplied was too small to manage much work.

Anna then taught me to zoom.

Drat those who stopped my computer learning way back when!

Anyway, since I learned to zoom to full page, it's so much easier to write. I'm more than halfway through the novel and have found a Mentor who advises me against contacting any Publisher before the work is read by a proper editor.

That's the next step, I suppose.

I'll let you know.

Cat Talk

A Well Read Cat, Balanchine

First there was dust then

Cold cold cold.

Wind raging.

The men came and they cleaned the yard and they fixed the underground smells.

I hid inside today and found where She hid the biscuits.

She always points the new clicker box at us.

She says she can't get a good pic of Balanchine because he closes his eyes.

Balanchine likes to think.

He doesn't meet and greet people like me and Sylvio.

There are new things in the garden.

Our Boy Stanley

Yes and I always make friends.

They cleaned the back weeds.

One person said,

'That cat is pregnant!'

She said

'No he's not.'

She said,

'He's fat.'

I am digesting this.

Muchness

Stan:

The world is wet it went, from dust rolling casual on fur and then all around

to water soaking dripping wetting paws.

Today I'm inside.

When cold winds came she let us stay open door out back.

Zorro tipped the milk.

She was cross we boys need party sometime.

Watch through window.

Zorro hid. I coul-don't fit that hide.

She went away, came back, Zorro slow, full of milk, my tummy grumbling.

No milk today.

Hot cloths and the lavender smell like the carpet.

We try not to mark the trays well kept,

but she cleaned the kitchen recently and we got to work.

She doesn't pee lavender but it strong cat smell.

There is some spraying in places we talk to pee-wise.

Shifts

No spare room cats, we are all out back now where the television hums sometimes.

To aid tranquility, She hotmops the floor with lavender oil and we nod off.

Lots of different foods, She won the Fish tray tonight and our tummies are all right.

Yesterday them two legs, they sweltered and we took no notice, we all found our coolest places and we spread our fur over the coolest places and we snoozed and She said that we were like molten lumps of cat.

Until that sharp cold wind came out of nowhere.

The floor roarer is roaring again,

Tabs is inside.

We had fish tonight and it was good.

She talks about the big de-flea tomorrow, she's been brushing us all a lot.

Some of us like it, some of us don't. I like it. 

Grace likes it too. Grace had annointments under her ear tonight.

I like being brushed.

She let some of us sleep inside in the hot of yesterday.

She didn't see that I edged a box of biscuits on the floor and ate as much as I like.

It was good outside in the cold wind today and last night there was thunder and lightning and then it rained.

We smelt it when we got outside today.

They give me a collar, I adapt to style.

When will They upgrade my collar?

I am Stanley.

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.

Slimmer Stanley

This Collar Needs More Work!

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

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.

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.

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.