International Cat Day!

Playing nurse to a poorly cat, who I dragged to the vet today - viral infection, vet is unsure what precisely it is, and an inflammation of the gums, which being a bacterial infection is already responding to antibiotics, so Storm is back to sleeping in the bath-tub. A great improvement on the last 24 hours where he has lain on the bath-mat.

When well, he is a fearsome hunter of birds and the occasional mouse or two, and pairs up with his brother to hunt rats. Favourite pastime is lying under a bush making rude remarks to dogs walking past the garden on leads! He actually does have some doggy friends, as well.

His brother, named Trold, (Danish for Troll) tells me when he wants to be brushed by stretching up a front paw and combing my hair with his claws. Any other cats out there that have thought that one up?

When not living in the country, they go to sea with us on our motor boat and enjoy it thoroughly. DH says he suspects cats have an internal gyroscope, as no wave however rough has caught them off guard yet. (Don't worry, shore-leave and inspection of decks takes place on leads - skipper aka mum refuses to negotiate on that.)

Recently I had a knee replacement and when I came home I needed to go to the loo 2-3 times a night most nights. For a few weeks Tara escorted me there, sat outside the door and then waited until I was back in bed before she retired to her bed. She must have decided that I could cope on my own because now I have to do it all by myself. She was a good, caring nurse.

Lady Daphne is just that - a proper lady and a right madam. She was part feral although possibly had been someone's pet at one time as she apparently had a raggy red collar on when she first started to go into my son's garden over seven years ago as a kitten. She has the most complicated character of any cat I've had - she loves me - I know she does as she needs to know where I am at all times and if we've been out she is obviously delighted to see me return and not just because I feed her and empty her litter tray either. Despite this though she will not tolerate any form of affection on my part - touching is very firmly a no no unless its on her terms and then it's only a slight head butt or nose touch. She has lived with us for nearly 7 years now and I am still unable to pick her up, vet visits are a nightmare and she has to be sedated to have any form of treatment - even claw clipping. She appears to hate her long suffering house mate and will chase him at the slightest opportunity - he is equally as scared of her and goes into flight mode instead of trying the fight approach first however contrary to popular cat psychology they will happily eat their meals with dishes only inches apart. First thing on a morning whilst waiting for breakfast he's not adverse to creeping up behind her and giving her a swift swipe on the bum rather like a game of tig - if she gets behind him she does the same. I love her quirkiness though and some of the funny things she does - bringing a mouse down from her toy box, launching herself onto the bed as I'm making it and racing round in circles on the quilt before pouncing on an unseen enemy hiding under the bathmat!

For all time funniest tale though I can't beat an old cat we used to have who was also very feisty - partly due to being partially sighted we believe. He who came racing over the garden one day trailing a string of raw sausages behind him. Or the day another lovely old boy came down the stairs dragging a toy rabbit bigger than himself in between his front legs. Then there was the time my family of 3 generations found their way through a hole in the airing cupboard floor and came trooping in a line down the chimney breast which was being demolished at the time ........ Life is certainly not dull with cats in the house

https://www.gransnet.com/uploads/talk/201808/medium-832985-6135779531018632418.jpg https://www.gransnet.com/uploads/talk/201808/medium-981953-2016-01-18-15-42-48.jpg

This is Lady Lucy as she's known when we're feeling properly obsequious and subservient.

We adopted her from a cat rescue charity 14 years ago where she'd been handed in as a 4 month old kitten by a family with three small children who had teased and tormented her to the brink of madness. We were told her name was Angel but as one of her first acts in our house was to wrestle an enormous Christmas cactus in a heavy earthenware pot to the floor and her second was to strop her claws up the side of a leather chair, we thought she might be a fallen angel. Thus, she became Lucy-fur, generally just Lucy. Or Oy! Cat! Or Fur-face, Face-ache, Gorgeous, Purrball, Pest or Little One.

She has a purr like an elderly diesel van and loves fuss and attention on her terms. When she decides we deserve some lap time, better not argue as she won't be dislodged until she decides enough is enough. She detests all other cats, is still very wary in the vicinity (about half a mile!) of small children, loathes catnip and we love her to pieces. She is forever getting shut in places she shouldn't be - the garage, the cellar in our old house, the airing cupboard etc - simply because she can't resist sneaking in very quietly when the door is open. She has been missing overnight on a couple of occasions and we think she may have got trapped in a neighbour's outbuildings. It is a worry - suppose she sneaked in somewhere just before the owner locked up to go off on holiday ... But, that way, madness lies so I try not to go there.

I've had cats all of my life and loved them all; broken my heart when they've died and sworn I'll never have another because it hurts too much. Lucy, though, is special. More than just a cat, she's a feline friend, a constant companion, a source of surprises, a bringer of mice and an utter delight.

Happy International Cat Day, Lucy and cats everywhere.

We had two lovely black rescue cats (Lennie and Ainsley). They both died, aged 17, within three months of my husband’s death, I saw five cats at the local rescue centre. Aged about twelve months, they had lived in a flat where the owner had been evicted.
I took a beautiful tortie and a handsome black one. It took a while to persuade them to go out: they had been indoor cats but, it is safe here for cats.
Cleopatra, the tortie, is affectionate and follows me to be in the same room as me (including the loo, Charliegirl) She is unlike previous torties who lived up to their ‘feisty tortie’ description. Anthony spends more time outside but, if indoors, is straight on to my lap if I sit down.
Although probably siblings and, having lived together all their lives, they have completely different personalities. When the door bell goes, he goes immediately into hiding, while she rushes to the front door to see has come to visit her.

Our local FB group had a story a month ago about a missing cat Mittens. The owners tried everywhere to find her, and also put up an award. After a few days they got a report that she had got in a van, and jumped out at the next stop a village 12 miles away. They then started searching there, and in spite of several sightings, there was no good news.

Then yesterday, she strolled into their house, looking thinner but OK and very affectionate.She got her self home from 12 miles away, also across a very busy main road. It had taken nearly a month, and she'd managed to find food and water and walk 12 miles in the very hot weather.

It's amazing that cats have that ability to find their way home. She's never been to that village before, and travelled there by van. I love a happy ending.

I am guilty of posting far too many things about my mogs! They are probably still "findable" in the GN "cupboard under the stairs" if anyone wants to look!