Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Cats’

A Bad Run.

We’ve had a bad run lately. We’ve lost two of our pets out on the road here in as many weeks. First Velcro, and just last week Tiger Fluff. Two crazy cats adored by all who came into contact with them. Funny, entertaining, sweet and loving. We live out in the sticks here, so you’d think that traffic would be calmer. It is to an extent, but we’ve noticed that the cars seem to whizz along the lane just lately! What makes me so angry is the attitude that ‘it’s only a cat’. That it isn’t worth knocking on someone’s door, and apologising for snuffing out an innocent little life. Ok, we fully realise that you can’t control a cat. It’s the other way round, I know. I’m really a recent convert to feline charms and I wouldn’t be without them now. It’s so sad though that rather than telling us, even though we’d be just as devastated at the loss, they choose to leave the animals broken and bloody by the side of the road. You know, if folks did tell us, and even apologised, then we’d feel better about it all, believing that at least they cared.

The two that remain, Splodge & Wisp don’t seem the same somehow. Neither are we, I suppose, having been touched by these funny little things. Sleep tight, little mites.

Until the next time, au revoir.

TBC

All content © Le Chant d’Oiseau, 2006-2008

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

A Sad Day Today

For a few months now, certainly since the back end of the summer, we’ve been plagued by two cats. Neither of whom seem to have a home, well not one that anyone will admit to at any rate. I suppose we’ve been fairly lucky in the menagerie stakes. I haven’t succumbed to gerbils, guinea pigs, chickens, ducks or peacocks. Yet! But, these two pesky cats just stroll around the place as if they own it. Perhaps they do. Perhaps these are relatives of the original owners of Le Chant, come to stake their claim on the mice hereabouts? Who knows?
Anyway, the more feral of the duo hasn’t been seen for a while, but the other, a small black & white thing takes great delight in staying a couple of inches away from the gnashing teeth and massive bark of our dog, Bracken. It’s not our cat, but it loves to eat on leftovers from our camper’s bins. It even had the audacity to creep into, and make itself comfy on the bed of one of our guests not so long ago! The lady was most pleasant about it, and said that she didn’t mind, it was quite sweet, our cat!

IT IS NOT OUR CAT!

Anyway, yesterday, Syb called me round to the back of Heron to have a look at said cat. It was in a bit of a state. Mum has a motor-scooter affair. You know the type of thing? You see them going the wrong way round roundabouts, scattering cars in every direction, while the driver waves with a stick, oblivious to the ensuing chaos following very close behind. We live in the country, no roundabouts for miles, so you’re fairly safe from harm when mum’s out and about. The trees are in far more danger than motor cars. She has developed a disturbing penchant for ‘off-roading’, has mum. A while back, Syb & I were tootling along on our bikes, chatting away when we suddenly realised that we couldn’t hear the electric ‘hum’ of the scooter, nor the spitting of gravel under the wheels. We both turned to look behind us to see mum emerging from the ditch, white as a sheet, breathing ‘I’m alright, I’m alright’, as she steered the thing back onto the straight & narrow…

There was a time when Niall used to enjoy being tugged along behind mum on the mountain board. It’s like a skateboard, but longer, with enormous pneumatic tyres on it, like a snowboard but not for snow. Obviously. Anyway, mum would set off apace, with Niall hanging onto the chair back, hitching a ride. We had my cousin and his family over for a few days and we all decided to take a walk down the lane, with the mountain board. Niall was demonstrating how it was done. Mum doesn’t usually go so fast, but she had an evil glint in her eye as she set off at an alarming speed, out of our gates, across the road and straight into a tree. Niall doesn’t do that anymore.

Anyway, the cat. This cat had been injured in some way, possibly by a trap, as all four paws seem to have bled to a greater or lesser degree. She’d been in the ToyBox earlier when Hannah went in to retrieve her scooter for work. The screams must have been audible miles away. Hannah doesn’t like cats, especially ones that are bleeding all over her nana’s electric scooter. (See, I knew I’d get to the point eventually). We retrieved the poor animal, and Syb bathed & dressed its wounds and bandaged the worst one. The vet was closed so unable to seek advice there, so we brought it back home, gave it a box, a blanket, some food & water and hoped for the best. The intention was to get it well again and then turn it loose around the place. Not inside, you understand, as it’s NOT our cat. As you may have guessed by now, the poor thing died this morning, so I guess Bracken will have to find other things to bark at. It’s a shame. Although I’m not a cat lover as such, I quite liked the little thing at the end, and had got used to thinking of her as ‘our cat’.

Until next time,

Au Revoir.

TBC.

All content © Le Chant d’Oiseau, 2006.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: