A Day at aTime

Just a little babe in the woods.

Oh boy. We've been having some hairy times around here lately - to say the least. Crazy cat lady indeed - barking, as the Brits say. Little innocent Tristan just wants to rest and be left alone, but Mr. Poole in particular is showing some rather nasty behavior. Tris can be very loud just when he's about to be fed, but when ambushed or cornered, good grief - what a wail is unleashed!! I know that white cats can sometimes be deaf, and while I know for sure he is not deaf, I am wondering if he may be hard of hearing, hence the loudness. Anyway, Mr.P shadows him everywhere - almost likes he's hunting him - kind of creepy to see. Manitou however, is quite relieved as he doesn't seem to be the center of Mr. P's focus quite so much anymore. So - we are hoping "this too shall pass." It's just rather stressful right now.

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OK, the above was written in a draft about a week ago. And already, we have seen a few but welcome signs of "adaptation". Chesney doesn't freak out quite so much when he comes across Tristan, and Mr.Poole's behaviour has become a little less disturbing, but rather more curious (is he hunting him, or watching over him?). Over the weekend I observed more than one instance where Mr. Poole slowly tried to creep up on an unsuspecting Tristan, only to be thoroughly disappointed when Tristan turned to see him, and as if to say, "oh -it's only you", continued his nap, his grass-munching, or whatever he was engaged with prior to the "attack". Each time, Mr. Poole seemed most disappointed that his seemingly well-crafted attempt to spook the new guy failed yet again. Amazingly, each time he then chose to simply lie down near him. Hmm. An even more surprising discovery was made just 2 nights ago: Tristan on the spare bed fast asleep, with Mr. Poole equally deep in slumber less than a foot away. Hmm again. Much later, sometime in the middle of the night, a couple of signature Tristan wails came from spare room, but as I listened with trepidation, nothing further was heard, and all was quiet and peaceful again. We take it a day at a time - grateful for the smallest of signs of improvement.

I suppose at this point, some credit must be given to the resident "cat-wrangler". Yes, I am the cat-whisperer, but she can be a little hesitant to be tough where tough-love is called for. Some might even call her a wimp. But with the special talents of both in the house, order, peace and harmony is usually in good balance and the feline residents know who is really the boss (shhh, don't tell the cat-wrangler!) ;) Here is the cat-wrangler hard at work, picture taken a few years ago and porch looking surprisingly tidy:



Doesn't he just need a straw to chew on? "Why yes'm, I's the Qu'aboodle Ranch (Townships Branch) cat-wrangler - every good home needs one - got some cats that need wranglin', and I'm yer man - straighten' 'em out in no time. Just pay me with a mint julep or two - and not the sissy kind either."

And in others news, of sorts, the weather lately has been lovely, very spring-like, just how I like it. But now, a snowfall warning has been issued! Tulips, daffodils and pansies are shivering at the news. It's been sandals and bare legs lately, but very begrudgingly, I had to wear something warmer this morning and most likely will have to the rest of the week.

"I Don't Wanna Talk About It!"

Well, little Tristan had a big day yesterday, and yet he took it very well indeed. But as you can see in the first picture, he really doesn't want to talk about it. Mr. Poole went up to him briefly, and after a quick sniff he left him alone, as if to say, "yeah, I know where ya been - trust me - you'll get over it."



And as though he heard the big guy's reassurance, Tristan then fell into an even sounder sleep.

New Sign at My House

Click on to enlarge.

Sad Little White One

It seems on any given day lately, I come home from work to find a bunch of cats in my garden - none of them mine! Happily, most seem to have homes (collars), and are simply enjoying the spring delights over at Maple Grove Gardens and maybe the odd snack or two. But this little guy has recently shown up and obviously has no home. He is ravenous, unfixed, and when he sleeps, does so very deeply - to the point I wonder if he is not well. The worst is that none of my gang seem to like him. Especially Chesney, who came to us to a fully-formed "family" - and this guy is an interloper, a stranger, and he is told so with a variety of growls and other none-too-subtle warning signs. Very unlike Chesney who is so easy-going and usually such a sweetie. *Sigh*. What to do? We have named him Tristan, as in "triste" meaning sad in french.



He is totally white, a white which could be whiter for sure, and as for the ever so slightly grey tail, we are not sure if it is simply dirty. Poor little sad guy.

Good Friday - Indeed

A very good Friday today: very VERY warm weather - instant summer. 26 degrees. The cats, visitors and all, are reveling in this gift, one which will apparently last for 2 more days at least. The solarium, locked up for winter was opened up, storm windows taken down, a quick dusting, and voila! - the best little bistro in town - overlooking my awakening garden:


Rose wine (pronounced "rosay" but I can't find the accent) and Rosalie amaryllis graced the brunch table with some hot-cross buns and a wonderful new discovery, spreadable Brie cheese. Fabulous!


Rosalie up close - she shimmers in the sun as though she has been dusted with gold.


Yeah - the empty glass is mine ;)


And last but not least, new dahlias bought yesterday at the local co-op.

A Happy Easter to all, and to all a Na zdrowie!

Visitors

"Care to share?" - asks a tentative Rascal of Manitou, whom we are still trying to figure out if he is really homeless or not. But he comes most days, twice a day, for snacks.


"Watcha got???" Hearing that snacks are being handed out - this little guy came by to see if it's really true. Here's hoping he has a loving home - what a cutie, huh?



As always, there's more to see at The Friday Ark and then Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

Spring Has Sprung!

The last week or so has been unseasonably warm, and most are already wearing spring coats, and as for boots, forget it! I refuse to put them back on this season! Here, Angel is stretching out in the sun, and despite the obvious snow in the background, everyone seems confident all traces of it will be gone soon.



A neighbour's cat also seems to be enjoying the warm rays, although that is not his owners vehicle - I took this picture as evidence in case any of mine were to be accused of leaving the tell-tale paw-prints!

And also at this time of the year, with the changing position of the sun through the living room window, the Amaryllis shine more brilliantly than ever.

As always, there's more to see at The Friday Ark and then Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

In Memoriam

Today is my mother's birthday - she was born in 1921 in Poland. She passed away in 2004. I so love this photograph - maybe for what it doesn't tell me: where was this taken? How old was she? Was it taken before or after the war broke out? I suspect before. What was in her thoughts at this particular moment in time?

I have been reading a lot about the war lately - too much perhaps. I feel guilt for not having listened very much to my father's stories - and now he too is gone. But Mum never spoke that much about it all - and I can only wonder now what horrors she must have lived through, as I read first-hand accounts and memoirs - all on the internet now - all there as evidence - as memory - as memorial. And as an archivist by profession, I fully know how incredibly important it is for all these people to have recorded and shared their stories, however difficult it must have been.

I look at my face in the mirror and wonder how I would have fared in such circumstances: the fear, above all, must have been overwhelming. But, as they say, one never knows the incredible resilience of the human spirit. Thousands of courageous, and even kind acts were performed in those dark days - days full of seemingly endless misery and suffering. In face of such unimaginable evil - people carried on - and fought - and lost their lives. But many, by some miracle, survived to tell their stories.

And I, sitting at the dinner table on any given Sunday, hearing, but not listening, to Dad go on and on - I never let it in - until now. I would hope that somehow my father understands and forgives me.

Spot the Kitty!

No, I don't have a new cat called Spot. It's for you to see if you can spot the kitty in this picture, while you (ahem) excuse the bit of a mess. Yes indeed we were about to tidy up when the picture was taken. But how can you disturb a kitty!?

As always, there's more to see at The Friday Ark and then Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

Valentine by Anya