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Time is a funny old thing.  It catches you out.  Memories come back whenever they please and sometimes they surprise you. They never go away, they only seem to.  Take yesterday.  I was at work, getting ready to go home, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I wasn’t there at all,  I was something like eight years old and the school bell was ringing and it was time to go home for tea. Alleycat says that time’s like a long dark corridor with a bright light up ahead.  If you look back you can see the past, the places you’ve already been, because the light is shining towards those things, but if you look ahead the light’s too bright and you can’t see anything because you’re blinded.  He’s full of wise sayings like that.  Sometimes he acts like an ordinary moggie, other times he acts like a sage.  Pink doesn’t act much at all, except like herself.  She’s very happy at the moment because spring has sprung, seemingly, and instead of basking under the reptile lamp on the kitchen table  she can start to wander at large from hot spot to hot spot in the house.

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It’s ages since we posted (sorry) but we’ve had a bit of trouble with Pink. First off, she started pulling out her fur and we couldn’t stop it happening.  She was nearly bald in the end.  Then she stopped eating and we couldn’t make her start again. Alleycat and Bamber were worried, but there was nothing they could do and they expected us humans to put everything right.  Pink was so low she wouldn’t let us take her photo, but she agreed once that we could photograph her shadow (it’s up there at the top). Little by little she got better.  We brought her heaters, but that was no good, we purchased costly blankets, and she rejected them all, the fleeces, the silks, and even the mousseline. Then, one way or another, she gave us to understand that she required flowers, soft, scented flowers, so flowers were purchased, and after the flowers we had to supply her with golden saucers of full fat milk every other hour.  Little by little she started to improve, but her hair didn’t grow back until we sourced (at her explicit request) a reptile lamp, the sort of thing that snakes and other sorts of cold blooded critters love to bask beneath.  Once we’d provided her with all these things; the flowers, the full fat milk in endless supply and the reptile lamp she started to improve and now, I’m happy to report, she’s totally recovered.

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We hear tell of cats who went on adventures  and travelled far and wide, or cats who bravely opposed injustice and fought for freedom, but in general cats have little truck with that sort of thing.  Now and then Alleycat and Bamber go out into the world and show themselves to the neighbourhood, but Pink never goes out at all, and that’s why I  think she may be the brains of the outfit.  None of the rival cat families ever come into Alleycat’s garden, because if they did Bamber would be straight out of the cat-flap to engage them in heated discussion, and if Bamber failed to impress them Alleycat would plod out and ascend to the top of the highest fence post and stare at them. That usually does the trick.   Pink on the other paw stays indoors all day and all night, profiting from the other cat’s exertions.  In the cold weather she has prime spot in front of the hearth and she’s allowed to sleep wherever she likes without being disturbed.  She can even walk over the heads of the dogs on her bony little feet and they know quite well that they’re not to complain.  Pink, for all her pretty ways and her silly habits,  may, in truth, be the most Machiavellian and formidable cat of all and easily the cleverest warm-blooded creature living on Nine Foot Way.  And that’s a frightening as well as an amusing thought.

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Pink’s had a shock.  All the animals have.  It’s all because of the bears, who’ve suddenly appeared and started to spread across the house. But now and then I wonder if there’s something hidden in the dark that the bears are just a symptom of.  Alleycat’s resorted to purely practical, military measures.  He drills the dogs and makes them line up and gives them instructions to watch and guard and report any weirdness; but dogs aren’t the type to take instruction, and Alleycat’s just marking time in my opinion.  But he’s done more too.  He’s been in dark places, under the floor (we’ve heard him down there) and he’s been in the cupboards too, searching for a reason, or a sign.  But oddly enough it’s Pink who’s trying hardest. She might seem a lazy and vain little cat, but she sits by my PC and stares at the keyboard as if she’d love to write me a message, and last night she appeared in a dream and spoke to me urgently, not in a miaow, but in actual human words. Unfortunately when I awoke I couldn’t remember what she said. That’s how it is with dreams. They’re different.

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Maybe it’s because it’s Halloween, but there’s a presence in the house, and Pink keeps looking behind her, scared of her own shadow. Last night she was with the dogs on the big yellow sofa, just as normal, when a nasty, grisly, horrid sensation gripped her and she wanted to turn around and look but she was too scared to move. The dogs felt the same as she did. Normally they’ll bark at the smallest disturbance (like a leaf blowing across the lawn) but they were so scared they couldn’t make a sound and it took all of Bernie’s courage to call for Alleycat with a little yapping bark. Alleycat ran in from the kitchen, but of course he’d been fast asleep and he’s not as quick as he used to be, so when he arrived on the scene there was no sign of uncanny intruders or walking shadows at all. You can imagine he didn’t take too kindly to be woken up for nothing, but Berne and Lucy were adamant that they seen (or felt) something nasty, and Bernie decided to put on her quilted jacket for extra protection and Lucy and Pink begged Alleycat to stay close and help them to settle down. As soon as they felt confident enough to be left alone, Alleycat returned to his gentleman’s chair in the kitchen, where he went straight back to sleep. But he must have half-believed that something was amiss because he kept one ear open, and presently he heard a weird, unaccountable sound that wasn’t normal at all, and he woke himself up to find a rather sinister looking bear snooping around the kitchen. As soon as it realized that Alleycat was on to it, the bear tried to escape through the outside door, but Alleycat chased it into the house and made it stay there. He’ll be questioning it later and that bear had better be sorry for frightening Pink and promise to mend its ways, or I wouldn’t like to think how angry Alleycat will be with that miscreant night-wanderer.

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Bamber doesn’t understand cameras; when I try to shoot him he grabs the cord that goes around my wrist, rips the whole thing out of my fingers and turns the lens on me. It’s different for Pink. When she gets her claws into something they usually get stuck because she’s so incompetent. Then she panics and calls for help and has to be rescued. Bamber doesn’t panic. He likes a tug of war. On top of that, Pink really wants to be on camera and she considers herself a local celebrity (although she seldom goes out of doors) . She’d definitely like her picture on all the front pages in all the magazines and she’s always yelling for attention from the newshounds. Bamber and Alleycat like a bit of attention, but mostly they like to keep a low profile and sleep as much as possible. They don’t want to be targeted by the local newshounds.

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It’s been a while since I posted because last week I fell ill and I’m still a bit under the weather if truth be told. Even so, there are things to report. The last time I went along the Six Foot I saw a black and white cat at the southern end (watching me) another black and white on the fence and yet another on the garden wall opposite. A fourth b+w gang-member was on guard halfway down Bugle Street and when I took a left into Hanbury Way a massive fifth was waiting halfway along the footpath. The five of them sleuthed me all the way to the station, dodging in and out of the gardens, making sure I saw them. Alleycat’s changed his tactics too and even when he’s dozing he’s alert. Occasionally his whole body wakes him up, and he stands on his chair, or on the windowsill and stares through it at something that I can’t see. It makes him cross. It may be a black and white cat, roaming around on his borders, but it could be anything really. In a moment he’ll spring outside and when he returns he’s often angry and agitated and trying hard not to show it. I know how it is. Once I came home from work and there were three black and whites at the end of the Six Foot, looking in, and when I turned into the Six Foot itself who should I see but Alleycat sat in front of them all with his big green eyes wide open. He was making sure they understood how important he is, just by looking, and though the black and whites made occasional eye contact with me, I was clearly of no importance at all by comparison and in a while the intruders just melted away, suitably awestruck by Alleycat’s presence.

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The bears have stopped reproducing for the moment. Alleycat’s instructed them to gather on top of one of the sitting room cabinets, and although he’s confined them more or less, one of them’s unruly and wayward and refuses to do as he’s told. When Pink’s on sentry duty that particular bear creeps up on her blind side and sneaks past her. He’s been seen in the kitchen, staring down at Alleycat (though Alleycat’s too polite to notice him) and once I caught that bear signalling to someone through the kitchen window. We don’t know the details yet but it must mean that the bears have allies somewhere in the Five Streets and they’re secretly communicating through the glass. Nothing bothers Alleycat though. He’s intent on sleeping as much as possible and won’t exert himself or take steps until it’s absolutely necessary.

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It’s business as usual in the Six Foot. Or is it? Pink’s retreated indoors, and the dogs are looking after her. Most of the time Alleycat’s glued to his gentleman’s chair in the garden, but Bamber’s decided he’s got to increase his patrols, and he’s also delved a lair for himself in the jasmine, overlooking the Six Foot itself. That’s his chosen spot.Indoors, the bears are reproducing. Don’t ask me why. They’re spreading over the furniture and generally taking over the house, whilst out in the world the black and white cats increase numerically, though sheer numbers aren’t the same as strength of arms and that’s why Alleycat isn’t worried and seldom moves from his easy chair. Bamber must be worried a bit though, or else he wouldn’t have built his look-out post above the garden gate, so he can watch for all-comers and cry to Alleycat if hostiles approach or seem to threaten. No one’s dared to encroach so far, and if they do Alleycat has plans. One thing I’ve noticed is that he’s getting fatter. Years ago he was poisoned and almost died (lots of local cats perished) but Alleycat survived. He lost a lot of weight back then, but his power and wisdom were so great that he lived through it all and learned to be even lazier (and wiser). Now he’s rebuilding his fat reserves in anticipation of a hard winter (or something like that) and being lazy is his secret weapon. So really, now that I think of it there’s quite a bit happening in the Six Foot after all.

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"Greetings and Salutations!" or maybe "Wait, wait, don't take it yet, I'm not ready!"

This is my silly little (or not so little, actually) man, Phyllo, on his roll of paper towels. He has a 'thing' for purses, bags, bunched up wads of dish towels, pillows - anything poofy that he can lay on. That quilted paisley fabric to the left is an earlier attempt to appease his need to lay on something padded. He completely "becomes one with" my quilted Vera Bradley bag, as well as my Mom's purse when she comes to visit. The other day I just casually laid a roll of paper towels on the table, and a new obsession was born.

Phyllo showed up last April. He just popped his head in the cat door one day, and wouldn't leave. He acted like he'd always lived here. I didn't let him in right away though - I confess I was hoping he'd go on to the next house. But for 5 days he kept coming back, even though it was raining and he had to find a spot on the dry side of the back porch to sit on. I'd peek through the shut blinds to see if "that orange kitty" was out there (and I'd be whispering to the other cats to be quiet), but he'd see or hear me, and start tapping on the window and meowing. He'd tap tap tap and meow at the cat door too. Like "MOM! Let me in!"

Finally, on day 5, I couldn't stand it anymore, and brought him out a plate of wet food. Before he ate it he kissed kissed kissed my hand all over. When he'd finished eating, I gave him another. He left for the night, then came back the next morning, and this time I let him in.

He's a love. I have no idea where he came from. A foreclosure victim maybe? He was neutered and well fed and in good health. I'll never know. Now he sleeps with me at night and sits on my chest and kisses my face and gives me love bites. He talks in his sleep (really LOUD sometimes!) and eats like there's no tomorrow. One day I was sitting at the kitchen table crying about something, and he licked the tears off my face. I know. He's pretty special.

Just thought I'd share, since I had this cute picture.

Made homemade spaghetti sauce today (haven't actually done that for a while) and it was sooo goood. Drew this afternoon, and got back into the groove a bit. Have an idea for some children's book art, maybe a book. Its such a simple idea, but I usually over-think things, and this is refreshingly uncomplicated.

I finished transferring all of my knitting from my Tweedy Crab shop on etsy over here to the blog, and I put up a few more prints too. I'll probably add a thing or two now and then, when I have the time. Otherwise, I'm going to just do some art for a while now. I still have Painter taunting me, but I'll get back to that later. I have a hankering to do some watercolor painting again. Whatever blooms on my table, I will share.

Off to watch some more Olympics and feel oh so very unathletic.

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I’ve heard of Blessing of the Animals services before, but have never attended one
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The tiny Lutheran congregation which we now call our church home has apparently been holding these services for years.

Sunday morning, Pastor’s wife asked if we were coming to the Blessing of the Animals, and I hemmed and hawed a bit. We have four cats, and I figured this was going to be a dog heavy event. She encouraged us to come anyway. I told her we couldn’t bring all four, and she said to choose the one most in need of blessing.

My sons looked at each other. It was a quick unanimous decision. Shadow.

Shadow came into our family two years ago. On that October day we had another cat, Surprise, at the vet. For months we had been treating a spider bite which theatened to take her tail. While waiting on the vet, my youngest son went behind the bookcase in the room to see who or what was hanging out in the cages. (It was a very small vet’s office.)

“Mom, there’s a black cat back here!” he called out. I went to investigate. There was a small black cat with wide gold eyes. And when she moved, I saw the patch of white between her hind legs. She looked just like Hodie, my senior citizen cat.

When the vet came in, I asked if that cat were up for adoption. She paused and said that actually, that cat was scheduled to be euthanized, but no one had the heart to do it yet. The vet also served as the pound for the small community, and they had been hiding this black ball of fur from the authorities for a few months. They really couldn’t put her out for adoption because she was black, and it was near Halloween.

“Don’t do anything to that cat,” I said. “Let me go talk to my husband.” Meanwhile, I asked them to test the cat for Feline leukemia, etc. Even if I didn’t take her, I was willing to have these tests done to make her more adoptable.

I don’t quite remember much about the conversation with my husband. I think as soon as I said, “She’s a dead ringer for Hodie,” he was smitten.

That afternoon she was in my house, rolling around on the carpet under the dining room table, and generally making herself at home.

I’ll save all the other Shadow stories for later. Shadow is definitely the most spirited feline in the household. She’s not much for being held and loved, but for some reason, she curled up and slept with me the night before we moved out of state. She never did that before, and hasn’t done it since.

So this little ping-ping-zoom-zoom bundle of black fur was blessed yesterday, in the shade of a tree under a bright blue sky. As we suspected there were dozens of dogs and only two other cats. Amazingly, things were very peaceful for the roughly half hour long service.

Afterwards, appropriate treats were passed out for both four legged and two legged participants.

I’m looking forward to next year.

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