This is my 100th post. It seems a momentous occasion. It also seems odd that when I come to this bench-mark in my blogging the readership of my blog has flagged. I believe this is due to the attention I have given to my other blog Dogs of Melbourne and not this blog.
I want to mark this milestone on this blog with a special blog. It is raining today. A steady continuous fall – an unusual event in this sun-burnt country. We do get thunder storms where the rain dropped from the sky and floods everything then stops. Today it is regular and very relaxing.
I have decided that a tribute to S is the right blog to mark this century.
Three weeks ago I was sitting on my bedroom floor by the open door of my wardrobe. The dark shoe filled cavity was where my lovely cat S decided to hole up.
When I came home from work I had to search for her. I had hoped to find her with a new lease of life basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun in the garden. Instead she had found this dark corner. She lay in one position for a while then slowly heaved herself up, looked around, appeared to wonder if she would come out but instead flopped back again but in a slightly different position. She was uncomfortable, not only because of the shoes but because her little body was failing her.
That morning before work I stroked her and when my hand moved down her back she flinched away from me. The whole of her hind quarters appeared to be painful.
I had arranged for it be her last night in this world and I wondered if her thoughts worked that way she would be hoping it would be. That she could get away from the feeling of sickness and the pain.
I sat cross legged, leaned into the wardrobe and gently stoked her head and around her ears. She responded by raising her head and I talked to her about her life.
We didn’t know all her life. She came to us as a grown cat but the lack of nourishment in her early years had left her growth stunted; her body tiny. She was a long hair domestic black and white cat. At that time her small body appeared to a vehicle for keeping her beautiful, huge and fluffy tail up-right. Her tail was magnificent.
We had a dog and when she arrived I thought this could be a problem. J introduced them the first night and all was well.
Our dog Goldie was fascinated by her but what she thought was a mystery, At that time she was traumatized and withdrawn into herself. She never made a sound, neither a meow nor a purr. I thought she had a problem with her voice box but the vet assured me that this was not the case.
She learned how to scramble under the house and to come inside via a funny half door that led under the back stairs. This door opened to the downstairs bathroom and the first sound I heard her make was from behind that door. I was soaking in the tub reading when I noticed a funny squeaking sound. It happened a few times before I realized what it could be. I struggled from my hot bath and open the door. S stepped into the bathroom and asked to be let out into the passage way. The response to making a noise and achieving what she wanted encouraged her to keep making a noise. From that day she was no longer a silent cat.
I reminded her of this time and enlarged on it by reminding her that she had needed her voice when she got stuck on the roof of the back verandah and has lost to courage to get down. And so much later in life when she had lost her spring and wanted to be lifted up placed on a bed of a couch..
The purr came back too. On night like last night when the rain fell noisily onto the roof she and I would lie in bed and she would add to the comfort and security with her purr.
Since those early days she has moved countries and become an Aussie cat.
When we moved into this house she was at home instantly. It made me realize that she was always a little on edge in a busier and nosier part of Melbourne. Her immediate acceptance of this house and its vibes gave it a special meaning to me. Positive and good things must’ve happened here in the past.
She is buried here in the garden that she sun bathed in and where she spend many a warm and sultry night on patrol and where, not longer ago, J found she had a trespassing cat bailed up under the barbecue.
She was released from her pain and distress by a kindly vet who came to the house and accepted that she desired to be in the wardrobe.
I want to mark this milestone on this blog with a special blog. It is raining today. A steady continuous fall – an unusual event in this sun-burnt country. We do get thunder storms where the rain dropped from the sky and floods everything then stops. Today it is regular and very relaxing.
I have decided that a tribute to S is the right blog to mark this century.
Three weeks ago I was sitting on my bedroom floor by the open door of my wardrobe. The dark shoe filled cavity was where my lovely cat S decided to hole up.
When I came home from work I had to search for her. I had hoped to find her with a new lease of life basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun in the garden. Instead she had found this dark corner. She lay in one position for a while then slowly heaved herself up, looked around, appeared to wonder if she would come out but instead flopped back again but in a slightly different position. She was uncomfortable, not only because of the shoes but because her little body was failing her.
That morning before work I stroked her and when my hand moved down her back she flinched away from me. The whole of her hind quarters appeared to be painful.
I had arranged for it be her last night in this world and I wondered if her thoughts worked that way she would be hoping it would be. That she could get away from the feeling of sickness and the pain.
I sat cross legged, leaned into the wardrobe and gently stoked her head and around her ears. She responded by raising her head and I talked to her about her life.
We didn’t know all her life. She came to us as a grown cat but the lack of nourishment in her early years had left her growth stunted; her body tiny. She was a long hair domestic black and white cat. At that time her small body appeared to a vehicle for keeping her beautiful, huge and fluffy tail up-right. Her tail was magnificent.
We had a dog and when she arrived I thought this could be a problem. J introduced them the first night and all was well.
Our dog Goldie was fascinated by her but what she thought was a mystery, At that time she was traumatized and withdrawn into herself. She never made a sound, neither a meow nor a purr. I thought she had a problem with her voice box but the vet assured me that this was not the case.
She learned how to scramble under the house and to come inside via a funny half door that led under the back stairs. This door opened to the downstairs bathroom and the first sound I heard her make was from behind that door. I was soaking in the tub reading when I noticed a funny squeaking sound. It happened a few times before I realized what it could be. I struggled from my hot bath and open the door. S stepped into the bathroom and asked to be let out into the passage way. The response to making a noise and achieving what she wanted encouraged her to keep making a noise. From that day she was no longer a silent cat.
I reminded her of this time and enlarged on it by reminding her that she had needed her voice when she got stuck on the roof of the back verandah and has lost to courage to get down. And so much later in life when she had lost her spring and wanted to be lifted up placed on a bed of a couch..
The purr came back too. On night like last night when the rain fell noisily onto the roof she and I would lie in bed and she would add to the comfort and security with her purr.
Since those early days she has moved countries and become an Aussie cat.
When we moved into this house she was at home instantly. It made me realize that she was always a little on edge in a busier and nosier part of Melbourne. Her immediate acceptance of this house and its vibes gave it a special meaning to me. Positive and good things must’ve happened here in the past.
She is buried here in the garden that she sun bathed in and where she spend many a warm and sultry night on patrol and where, not longer ago, J found she had a trespassing cat bailed up under the barbecue.
She was released from her pain and distress by a kindly vet who came to the house and accepted that she desired to be in the wardrobe.
Splodge 1990 - 2008
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