Five Years Old Already!

Why are you disturbing Me at such an hour? Can't a chap get a little shut-eye in the middle of the day?

Oh! What's that? 

My Birthday?

Well, in that case, I shall get up and greet My Wellwishers.

Happy Birthday to ME!

Happy Birthday to ME!

Happy Birthday, Dear  King Caspurr!

Happy Birthday to ME!   (mol)

As usual, when Birthdays fall in the middle of the week, We shall postpone the Celebration till Shabbat afternoon - 4 pm, in the Enchanted Forest, where (so I have been told), the wild catnip has purr-duced an exceptionally high yield this year (Mol. Mol. Mol).

So come One, come All and celebrate with Me. We are expecting beautiful, sunny weather and mild temperatures. It will be Great - no, Purrfect!

See you then.


Purrs and pawpats,

Sir Caspurr the Courageous, King of the Tigger-Tabbies, Lord Commander of the Impurrial Guard - and Impurrial Poet Laureate.

Happy Pawrim

Hallo, Effurryone!

It's Me - Caspurr!

Guess what - it's Pawrim! When the Humans like to dress up in Fancy Dress. And some of them think that's a good enough reason for putting silly clothes on Innocent, Unsuspecting Kitties!

In the past, Mummy has actually managed to get us to pose in ridiculous hats, but this year, We were having none of it. So She had to find a photo editing programme that would enable her to display Us to the world in Fancy Dress. She tried using something called Photo Impression, which She has on her computer, but couldn't make it work. (Breathing a sigh of relief.) That's how I, Caspurr, King of the Tigger-Tabbies was saved from the Awful Fate of having to appear as a Mediaeval Knight. Instead, she used her WhatsApp Camera, which allows her to stick Accessories on her Victim. I think I got off quite lightly. All She did was stick a bow tie on Me:

Trixie, naturally, wanted to be Queen Esther, the heroine of the Pawrim story. She got her way, of course. She has no idea how narrowly she avoided being made into a Dutch flower girl (mol).


                 

And last, but definitely not least, Shimshi, who actually would have liked to be a matador, had to content himself with purr-traying the Cat in the Hat:

How did you celebrate Pawrim?


Did your Humans make you wear Clothes?

Did you know it's a mitzvah, or religious duty, to get drunk on Pawrim?
So, if you'll excuse Us, the Catnip Punch is calling out to Us (mol).

Happy Pawrim (Purim Sameach - פורים שמח)

No More Nameless Babies

Hallo, Effurrybody!

Mummy did a lot of thinking after her last bloggie post, about the poor kitty that flew away to the Bridge without even having a name, and She felt so bad about the whole thing that She has decided that from now on, none of "her" kitties will be nameless. So now, She has given all of her "regulars" names. She even has a name, in her own mind, for the poor dead kitty. He or she reminded Mummy of Angel Possum, (although Possum's fur was much thicker and his tail much floofier) so She thinks of him/her as Possytwo.

The other kitty with Possum's colouring looked so much like the poor Angel Kitty, that Mummy calls him (or her) Doppelganger.
Here is a picture of her (or him):






There are two more kitties who look so furry much alike that Mummy can only tell them apart when they are both there in front of her. Both of them have thick, thick fur and floofy tails. Mummy calls one of them Fluffy and the other, (who is slightly smaller, but you can only see that when they are together) Floofy.

Here is a picture of Fluffy:

And here (Mummy thinks) is a picture of Floofy:






Mummy calls this next kitty, who is one of the really shy ones, Brindle:

And this one - also one of the shyer kitties - is Ginger. We wonder why (mol).





Now, here is a kitty that has turned up recently and Mummy isn't sure what name to give him or her. She is considering Rainbow, because of the many colours, but somehow, that doesn't sound like a furry kitty-like name. What do you think? Has anyone got any suggestions?




Mummy has promised to try to take more pictures in future, so We can introduce the other Homeless Kitties to you.
In the meantime, pawpats and kitty kissies to you all.

Trixie, Caspurr and Shimshi

Requiem for a Nameless Angel

Hallo, Effurrybody!
As anyone who has read Mr. T.S. Eliot's famous poem, or seen the musical "Cats" knows, effurry kitty has no less than THREE names - the one given to him or her by his or her Human, the unique name by which he or she is known to other felines, and the one, special, "ineffable effable effanineffable, deep and inscrutable, singular Name" known only to that one particular Cat.

Well, maybe not effurry kitty.
Not effurry kitty has a Human, to give them a name. Mummy, for example, hasn't given names to the feral kitties She has been feeding for the last few weeks. She was afraid to do so, because the moment She gives them names, She would want to adopt them, and how could She adopt all of them? She would just be setting herself up for heartbreak, She says.

Amongst the feral kitties, however, there were a couple who would wait for her across the street and who even followed her home sometimes. One of these was one of a pair whose markings rather resembled those of Angel Possum. This was the one some of you may remember Mummy mentioned a couple of months ago, who came right up to Mummy and stuck his or her nose under Mummy's hand as She was putting down the food. Lately, that kitty took to following Mummy and asking to be petted, even before going to the food. Mummy resisted the Temptation, although it became harder and harder to do so.  One night last week, though, She gave in and stroked the kitty's head - but no more than that, because, as We said, She didn't have any intention of extending Our Family.

On Thursday night - a furry cold night - Mummy got back late from her Caterwauling Club and hurried down to feed the feral kitties before it started raining - before even giving Us Our supper!  She didn't see any kitties, but She put the food down neffurtheless and hoped her "regulars" would come and eat before the storm broke.

The following morning, Friday, She went to take down the trash. It had been raining heavily all night, although the predicted storm had not yet broken. The first thing Mummy noticed was that three piles of the food She had set out the purrevious evening hadn't been touched. That worried Mummy - but then She saw that all the rest of the food had been eaten, so She assumed that fewer kitties had come out to eat because they had been sheltering from the heavy rain.

And then Mummy saw something that made her heart sink. A kitty lying motionless in the middle of the pavement, staring vacantly into space with sightless eyes. Mummy went closer - and her fears were confirmed. Although it looked like the Possum-lookalike She had petted earlier in the week, Mummy could not be one hundred per cent sure, because its fur was soaking wet and clinging to its lifeless little body, and it was partially covered with dead leaves.

Mummy could not be sure what had killed that kitty. Not starvation, surely - Mummy had seen to that. Possibly the cold - but more likely, it had been struck by a car. Mummy couldn't see any blood, but it might easily have received a head injury which left no visible, external sign. Or it could have been sick with any one of a dozen fatal illnesses. But Mummy can't rid herself of the thought that She might have saved that kitty, if She had adopted it. But then - what of her other "regulars"? She might have adopted one and then another one might have flown off to the Bridge, and Mummy would have eaten her heart out over that one instead. At any rate, the other ladies who feed the feral cats in the 'hood, report that two more of them departed for the Bridge last week - one of them the same night as Mummy's "Nameless Kitty", also hit by a car.

We have called that poor kitty "the Nameless Kitty" - because Mummy neffur gave him or her a name, and, of course, as We neffur met him/her, We neffur had the chance to find out what name s/he went by among his/her peers.

The Nameless Kitty is now an Angel - but not, after all, a Nameless Angel. He or She is now safe in the Paws of the Great Cat in the Sky.
And the Great Cat in the Sky knows that kitty's deep and inscrutable, singular Name.
The Great Cat in the Sky knows effurry kitty's Name.

Fly free, little one, whoever you are. May the Great Cat in the Sky keep you safe and warm and well-fed.

And please - furgive Mummy for not saving you, even though She is finding it hard to furgive herself.

Remembering Angel Pixie

Greetings, Fellow Felines!

That is how Pixie and Possum, who came before Us, used to greet their readers. We are doing it also, because today's post is dedicated to the memory of Pixie, who flew away to The Rainbow Bridge six years ago come Shabbat, on December 23rd, 2011.

As you already know, We neffur had the purr-ivilege of purr-sonally meeting Princess PixieCato, as she was known. She left for The Bridge before any of Us were even born, leaving Mummy, and her brofur Possum, heartbroken. But Pixie wouldn't want Mummy to remember her with sadness. So, as is Our Custom, rather than mourn her passing, We are going to celebrate her Life, as Mummy shows Us pictures of Pixie, and tells Us stories about her. The History of Those Who Went Before is part of the Heritage of effurry Cat.

Many of the best pictures of Pixie were taken before the Digital Age and it is furry interesting to help Mummy go over her old photo albums and pick out pictures purr-inted on glossy paper, taken way back in the day when humans took pictures on film, which then had to be taken to a special shop and "developed"! Imagine that, kitties! Who would have believed humans could have been so purr-imitive (mol)!

But We digress.
Like all of Us, Pixie was furry tiny when she came to live with Mummy. Mummy was looking for a companion for Possum, who had already chosen Mummy, a few weeks earlier.  She was one of four litter-mates, and her foster-Mum called her Elsa. But when Mummy met her, Pixie whispered to her that her real name was Pixie. 

And so it was.

This is a furry early picture of Pixie, wrestling with Possum - who let her beat him (that didn't last furry long).

As you can see, this is one of the early, non-digital photos that Mummy had to scan into her computer.

Here is another:





After they grew up, Possum, who was bigger and stronger, used to win most of the wrestling matches However, Pixie did manage to retain her pawsition as Queen of the Castle:

Mummy's favourite picture is the one of Pixie and Possum that She uses as the banner for Her Own Blog.

Pixie was a great believer in keeping fit and would exercise regularly, in order to preserve her svelte, ladycatlike figure:

On the other hand, she was also a great believer in snoozing (as are WE!):



When she was a young ladycat, like so many teenagers, Pixie used to spend what Mummy thought was rather too much time watching TV:





However, she grew out of that, and developed Other Purr-suits. For example, 
she loved shopping:

When necessary, she could be fierce: 

But mostly, she was Regal:

This is one of the last pictures Mummy has of Pixie, taken three weeks before she left for the Rainbow Bridge. She was already furry sick by then, but it doesn't show so much in this picture. Mummy has later pictures, right up to Pixie's last day with her, but they show how sick Pixie was, and they make Mummy's eyes leak so much that she can't bear to look at them - yet she can't bring herself to destroy them. So We won't post them, and We will leave you with Two Pixies, in a sunpuddle. Pixie adored sunpuddles.

Furgotten!!!

Greetings, Effurrybody!

I have been gravely insulted, kitties! I am wounded to my furry core!

Who would have thought She could have done such a thing?!

How could She furget such a Miaouwmentous Occasion as My Gotcha Day?

How could She have furgotten that just over Five Years Ago, on November 12th, 2012, I, Trixie, Empurress of Jerusalem, Israel and the Entire Middle East, Guardian of the Boudoir, Alpha-Cat Extraordinaire, bestowed upon Her the Inestimable Honour of taking up residence in Her Humble Abode?!

How could She furget such a thing? The Nerve of Her! The - the - the Chutzpah!

Words (almost) Fail Me!

I don't know how to punish Her, but punished She must certainly be!

(What's that you say, Human? You were busy? With feral kitties? Intruders? Purrhaps you would like Me to sing the Song of My People to you all night long? Huh? Huh? Is that what you want?)

Kitties, you see what I have to deal with here? What would you do if your Human grew so neglectful?

(What is it this time, Human? You want to make it up to Me how exactly?) 

She's insulting Me again, Kitties! As if I could be won over by a Miserable Bribe...

(How many extra cans of Fancy Feast, Human? Louder please. Can't hear you!)


To get back to the Question of Her Punishment...

(What is it now, Human? You'll buy me what? An Ess? Hmmm. I've heard that one before.)


Shall I furgive her, kitties? She has been furry busy, although I don't know if looking after Strange Feral Kitties is a Sufficient Excuse for Furgetting Moi. What should I do?

(Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Human! Just because you are now being purrmitted to give Me chin scritches, and snorgle my tummy - mmmm - and scritch my head in the exact place behind My Impurrial Ears where I like best to get head scritches, doesn't mean that - I - furrgive - you - mmmiaow. 

Purr. Purr. Purr.





Purr. Purr. Purr.

Purr.

Purr.

Mummy's Mission of Mercy

Greetings, Effurryone!

It is I, Caspurr, King of the Tigger-Tabbies.

It is MY TURN to write the blog today, so I will start off with a couple of new portraits of Myself - just in case any of you Ladycats out there have furgotten how Handsome I am - as if that were possible (mol).

I know I look rather wistful in these portraits. That's because there is something sad about autumn. Mummy says She also suffers from Seasonal Depurression.

Now, We have some Seriously Impawtant News to impart.

It's like this. The Municipality has been replacing the large green garbage dumpsters known colloquially as "Frogs" (get it?) all over the city, with underground dumpsters. That means, of course, that all over the city, feral kitties have been deprived of a major food source, because they can no longer get into the dumpsters to rummage for discarded food. They have been doing it neighbourhood by neighbourhood and last week, it was the turn of Our Neck of the Woods. So Mummy and some other people who live in the 'hood decided to feed the poor homeless kitties and Mummy has been going out effurry evening with a supply of cat food and distributing it near where the dumpster in Our Street used to be. She has no idea how many kitties used to feed at the old "Frog" dumpster so She has had to rely on guesswork. The first evening, she put out enough for about a dozen kitties and the following day, it was all gone. The same thing happened for several days in a row and in all that time, she didn't see a single kitty.

By Friday evening, there was a kitty waiting for her, although that kitty stayed half-hidden in the shadows till Mummy was about to leave. The following evening, there were already three kitties waiting for her. One of them even started eating while Mummy was still putting down food a couple of metres away. And last night, the three kitties were waiting there again and this time, as soon as Mummy had set down the first pile of food, one kitty came up to her, mewing, and followed her from place to place and even stuck her little nose right into the food as Mummy was putting it down.

In a couple of hours, Mummy will go out again on her Mission of Mercy. We can't wait to hear how many kitties She will meet this evening.