Gothic Tails

Departing from Lent for a moment, at the request of Crafty Green Poet,  here's a classic tale of the adventures of the late, great Gothcat: Stable Vandalised. Holy Family Scattered! From my wibsite blog, December 2005.

It all began yesterday evening when Miffcat jumped up on to the table and hurled himself at the birdcage with an evil glint in his eye. Mr Miff uttered a shriek of horror – leapt up, snatched the would-be assassin and plopped him down on the floor. After checking the cage door he flopped back down on to the sofa with a sigh of relief….that turned to another shriek of horror as he realised that there was a black furry cushion underneath him that hadn’t been there a second ago! By some miracle (or maybe because the beloveds lost so much weight lately), the cat wasn’t hurt, but after that no amount of coaxing would persuade him to take up his usual perch on my lap. Instead he turned his back on us and started stalking round the room with the look of a creature that has Things On His Mind. Next, he’d leapt up onto the dresser, and before we could stop him, tried  to insert himself into the little alcove where our Nativity figures are displayed – and began pulling at the straw.

Horrors! We had visions of many year’s worth of lovingly collected Santons de Provence being smashed to smithereens. Sacrificing theological and historical accuracy for the sake of safety, I hastily organised an emergency evacuation of the Holy Family and assorted hanger- ons to the far end of the alcove. It’s traditional in these creches to include not just shepherds and magi, but the butcher, baker, candlestick maker, priest, mayor and whoever else you can think of. At the last count ours has a duck, pig, pottery hippo from Disneyland, and two camels, one with a broken leg propped up by the rock wherein resides the Angel of the Lord. Another regular visitor used to be a super dooper reindeer pooper, only this year Ms Miffy put her foot down. Although in the spirit of inclusivity, one of her friends had slipped in a couple of Karma Sutra gingerbread reindeer and it was these that had attracted the cat. With Mr Miffy pulling at his hind legs, he held on for dear life with his forelegs whilst simultaneously trying to ram his head into the stable where one ‘couple’ of KS reindeer  were lurking. (I managed to catch the infant Jesus just in time as he was sent shooting out into the cold together with the other reindeer (still clasped in a lascivious embrace) which landed under an armchair, much to the delight of the dog!)

What could it all mean, I wonder?  No doubt daughter and BF would say it was a judgement on me for having turned away one overfriendly and plump little cat which followed me home one night recently. ‘ I bet you she’s pregnant,’ said Ms Miff. ‘And (accusingly) she’s probably called Mary.’ On the other hand, the scene bore a remarkable resemblance to The Goodies ‘Kitten Kong,’ that we’d been watching on TV just minutes before. I shall be watching Miffcat’s viewing with great care in future.

All creatures great and small: R.I.P. Greenpatch Cat

                                            - Greenpatch dog and cat, 20 February 2012

It's a strange time  to be starting a new blog. The last week's been one of those weird, liminal periods when  normal time and routine were suspended and  we've been  plunged into a deep fog of waiting and watching. Fifteen year-old Greenpatch cat, who'd been unwell for a while, took a turn for the worse. Though I didn't  mention it at the time, the planning and beginning of Growing Greenpatches took place whilst I and Mr GP were keeping vigil through Tuesday night (we took turns to doze on the sofa) and into Wednesday. The photo - one of those chance in a million moments - was taken on Monday evening, at least I think it was Monday ; (ignore the camera setting), tiredness has played havoc with my memory; just as she began to wind down and slip in and out of consciousness. She died early on Wednesday evening. Funny old way to spend Ash Wednesday....very surreal...strangely right...

I can't say it was a happy experience for any of us, however,  though I hope it was a peaceful one; the main thing being that that she was kept as warm and comfortable as possible and died with us beside her; rather than, as our two previous cats were, in the very caring, but clinical atmosphere of the vet's surgery.  We always adopt elderly rescue cats so our children love to joke about our home being a last staging post for elderly moggies. Be that as it may, and yes, you do set yourself up for heartbreak, (this is the  third cat we've lost in six years), we reckon it's more than compensated for by knowing that our pets, whatever experiences they've been through in the past, are loved and cared for in their twilight years. They've all been so different from each other in character, personality and behavour, as I said once in my old Greenpatches blog:  Goth Cat, Viking Cat and ....well, we never gave Chops an honorary online moniker; Mr GP's just suggested 'Scaredy Cat. ' Yet they've all been equally loved. 

So...and though I'm embarrassed to admit it, we don't feel it's in any way disrespectful to 'Scaredy Cat's'  memory to reveal that yes...we've already been out a hunting and that subject to the go-ahead by the vet, a certain furry gentleman should be heading our way in a few days time.  Rather we feel it's a testimony to the love we felt for her that we  just have  to share it with another moggie.

RIP Greenpatch cat.We'll miss you.