I don't think that proverb means what you think it means

One common gripe on the interwebz is people who know & appreciate correct spelling, grammar and punctuation complaining about people who either don't know or don't care about correct spelling, grammar and punctuation. What are they doing expressing themselves online if they can't spell?!

Often an assumption is made that people who don't know the difference between your & you're, or their, they're and there, are stupid, incapable of critical thinking, and just plain wrong. I do sometimes feel distress when I see incorrect spelling, sloppy grammar and overly creative punctuation, but I try not to assume that it reflects in any way on the writer's intelligence or common sense - it most likely means that they didn't have a great learning experience in their early education (and there could be any number of reasons for that), and/or they aren't all that interested in language (not everyone is), and/or English is not their first language (my grammar, spelling and punctuation in French are pretty amusing/appalling, I'm sure).

All of that is both something that I've been wanting to say for a while, and a preamble to a gripe of mine: the misuse of sayings and aphorisms.

There are lots of wonderful, sometimes mutually contradictory, aphorisms and sayings in the English language/s (I only know ones in English - if you'd like to let me know ones in other languages, with translation, in the comments - please do!).

He who hesitates is lost. Look before you leap. You can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink. Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die. Too many cooks spoil the broth. Many hands make light work. The devil finds work for idle hands. A cat may look at a king. Curiosity killed the cat -

Okay, now let's look at that one. "Curiosity killed the cat" has been around for a while, and we all know what it means, right?

(It's not referring to the exploration vehicle on Mars)

(no cat was harmed in the making of this photoshopped picture)


It means that a cat who is curious will poke its nose into something that will kill it.
Or does it?

The original form is believed to be "Care will kill a cat" - 'care' here in the sense of sorrows and cares, the opposite of carefree.

A line from a Ben Jonson play is "Helter skelter, hang sorrow, care will kill a cat, up-tails all, and a pox on the hangman" (sourced from the Wikipedia page on "Curiosity killed the cat").
Shakespeare used it too - "What, courage man! what though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care." (from Much Ado About Nothing, and also found on Wikipedia, bless its little cotton socks)

As late as 1898, a Dictionary of Phrase and Fable had this entry:

Care killed the Cat.
It is said that "a cat has nine lives," yet care would wear them all out.
(from Ebenezer Cobham Brewer, again via Wikipedia)

Wikipedia helpfully says that it is not known why the phrase changed to give 'curiosity' instead of 'care' as the cause of proverbial cat's death. Doesn't that pique your curiosity? Before your interest reaches its peak, let's take a peek at some other possible meanings...

The original form implies that it was curiosity in the sense of worry about whys and hows that killed the cat, so rather than trying to protect a cat from dying while trying to satisfy its urge to know things, allow your cat to explore and discover, and that will save it. As the rejoinder to the amended proverb suggests: "Curiosity killed the cat; Satisfaction brought it back".

So if your cat is pining with curiosity on one side of a closed door, open the door! The cat will probably wander back and forth, sniff around a bit, and then go back to where it started, satisfied - for the moment.


Nota Bene: this does not apply if the cat is curious about a closed door with HAZCHEM or DANGER: RADIATION warnings on it.

Another change of word-meaning that has led to conceptual misunderstanding is seen in the Biblical line which is translated as "Suffer the little children to come unto me" in the King James Bible. To suffer something meant to permit or allow it, in the English of that time, so that quote means "Allow the little children to come to me". No one is meant to be suffering distress or discomfort in this situation; not the children, not Jesus. Understanding definition and sentence structure makes a big difference.

My least-favourite misused saying is "No gain without pain", usually heard in the context of physical fitness. This makes me howl with rage (inwardly; I'm too polite and conventional to howl outwardly when people say silly things). I won't go into the difference between feeling muscles working or stretching, and feeling overstrain or tearing. Pain is a warning sign of illness or injury, not something to be ignored or an indication of success (unless your aim is creating pain, but that's a different story from achieving fitness).

The original version is "No gains without pains", and these pains are not labour pains or other forms of strong discomfort. Have you heard the word 'painstaking'? You may not have; it's less commonly used than it once was. Words with similar meanings are meticulous, assiduous, sedulous. To be painstaking, to take pains, means to be diligent, careful and thorough in your work. So the original saying means "No gains without being diligent, careful and thorough" - which makes a lot more sense than "No gains without ouchiness".

Obviously the "No gain without pain" version rhymes, is shorter, and is easier to say while leading an aerobics class - but it still means "be diligent, careful and thorough if you want to achieve your aims".

Going to the supermarket - woo!

I'd been needing to go grocery shopping for aaaages - maybe six days since I ran out of milk and four since I ran out of bananas & yoghurt, three since I ran out of bread (all my staple foods - except I still had cheddar cheese, and dark chocolate). So I'd been drinking lots of water (exciting! but I'm grateful to have safe, drinkable water on tap) and eating my way through the packets of rice cakes and VitaWeats in the cupboard.

Another pertinent point is that I had run out of my cats' favourite food: Whiskas dry food. They actually prefer Science Diet Original dry food to any other biskits, but we hadn't had that for a while - I have Too Many Cats and not enough income to keep them in the food that they'd like to be accustomed to. We do still have a wee bit of Science Diet Oral Care, which comes in big chunky biskits that do marvellous things for one's fangs, but for some reason the only fur-person who likes that is Ember (aka Good Girl, an aspirational name), which is an excellent choice on her part, as she has need of Care for her teeth and gums. So we were having tinned food instead. Tin (sic) food is normally a Treat, even though it's usually cheaper than standard dry food, simply because I'm too lazy to wash the cat dishes after every meal, as I really should when serving tin food. With dry food, I can get away with just wiping the old crumbs and smears of grease out with a paper towel (save water, use paper *shrugs*).

So I was very excited to break through my lethargy and Aversion to Going Outside which had gripped me for some reason this week, and drive the few blocks to Ashfield Mall. My flatmate is away at the moment, so she wasn't amazed by my going to a supermarket on a Sunday evening. Perhaps because she grew up in a small country town, perhaps because she's blind and doesn't go to supermarkets much, preferring to use smaller shops where she can get to know the layout and the staff are more able to assist her, my flatmate is constantly astonished when I go grocery shopping at night.

At around 7pm on a late spring evening, the car park on the roof of the Mall was balmy and tranquil unlike the middle of the day when it would've been hot and crowded. The aisles of the supermarket still seemed quite busy, and the main indication of the time was that they were Out of Bread (i.e. all types of bread from the two brands I usually buy had sold out), and it must've been end of shift for some of the checkout staff, because twice I joined a queue only to be told by the person in front of me "they're closing" or "I'm the last person" (both of which seemed unnecessarily dramatic to me - the *shop* wasn't closing, just that checkout, and you're not the last person on earth, buddy. ahem.).
(does that bit of punctuation look like boobs? .). Maybe more so with another parenthesis
.).) I may be a little high on sugar right now... :-D )

But I bought a lovely loaf of unsliced dark rye, plus the essentials: yoghurt (several types, including a very nice vanilla one with Added Sugar - woohoo! - a bribe to get me to go shopping); bananas; the aforementioned bread; some double chocolate chip mini muffins (or as I like to call them, chocka chip muffins) which were on special, so I got two packets, one to eat quite soon and one to freeze; six litres of long-life lactose-free milk (I usually drink a litre a day); some Cadburys milk chocolate (Fair Trade, and on special - ethical but not spendy); four tins of cat food (which I hadn't planned to buy, as I still had plenty, but it too was on special); and three packets of Friskies dry food (cos that was on special also! and Trezhy really likes Friskies. such happiness).

So I was quite pleased with my purchases, which helped me maintain my equanimity when twice being told the queue I was standing in was Closed.

Then I found a check-out where the operator was not only continuing his shift, but was the most charming, polite, friendly and helpful checkout operator I've encountered in a long time. I might even ring Woollies and give some Positive Feedback. I should. Ali (I'd guess early middle-age) was efficient in packing, while also asking if the customer had any preferences or objections to which items were packed with what; he greeted everyone while he was still serving the person in front - Hello, ma'am, shouldn't be too much longer - and looked customers in the eye as he took their payment, and seemed to actually mean the standard wish for them to have a good evening.

When he greeted the two young people behind me in the queue, they didn't respond, as they were rather preoccupied with each other - their words and actions led me to deduce that they were A Romantic Couple. A tall young man and a short, curvy young woman, who I overheard saying "but I don't have a big nose". When I turned to look, I saw that she in fact had a cute small nose. Her young man explained that he thought he could hang a keyring on the end of her nose because it tilted up at the end (he tried; the keyring fell off). I was tempted to say to her "you have a cute ski-jump nose", but realised that conversational input from anyone outside their Couple was completely irrelevant, so I didn't, and instead shared a smile with Ali.

[sadly I can't include a photo of the Cute Young Couple, because it would be creepy to start taking pics of people in the supermarket queue. wouldn't it?]

Ali wished me a good evening, after putting my bags carefully in my trolley (most unusual for a checkout operator, and I didn't take it as an aspersion on my strength/lack thereof, just as kindness), and I enthusiastically wished him a lovely evening too.

It was a challenge driving home into the setting sun, because a) I'd been unable to find my sunnies* before leaving home, and b) my windscreen was covered in dust and patterned with paw prints, making it very hard to see the road, cars, pedestrians, etc, when the sun hit the dusty glass at an angle. But we made it home safely, the food and I - it was almost like when I used to buy albums** as a teenager, and walk home from the record shop, hugging the album and thinking "must watch where I'm walking; mustn't get hit by a car before I can get home and play this".

So I got home, carrying Wonderful Food for me and the fur-persons. I have nommed some of the lovely vanilla yoghurt, and one (so far) mini chocka chip muffin. The cats were not as excited as I expected them to be by the New Dry Food (for heavens' sake, they'd been surviving on Woollies Select dry food! but I guess the tin food had out-rated the New Dry Food). They did all eat some though, and seem satisfied. Now I'm blogging about this delightful expedition, with Trezhy sleeping, fluffy-tummy-side-up, on my lap, both of us content with our yummy snacks.

*sunnies: noun, plural (but referring to one composite object) Australian vernacular for sunglasses.
**albums: noun, plural. Recordings of music on vinyl disks.

Dreams, Death and the Waking World

since her death I've often dreamt about Mum - being somewhere with Mum & Becca, usually a dream-representation of a place we lived in or visited years ago. sometimes she's young (i.e. about the age I am now), sometimes in her mid-70s, and frail as she was for several years before she died.




I often know that I'm dreaming (always have, as far back as I can remember) but that doesn't make the dreams any less real, or any easier to control.
and I know that there's the reality in dream-life and the reality in waking life, and they're different. sometimes I know in the back of my sleeping mind that Mum is dead in the waking world, but that doesn't affect her existence in the dream.

today was the first time that I consciously (unconsciously, I spose, given I was asleep) thought "I'd better hug Mum now in this dream, because, although she's alive in the waking world too, some day she won't be, so I'd better make the most of hugging her in this dream now".

Mum was looking much like she did a couple of years before her death, grey hair and shawl wrapped round her shoulders, talking to one of the cats (Tigger, who died in the mid 1980s) as she went to the kitchen to get herself a cup of tea. I was a bit worried that the milk was past its use-by date.

Tigger

The Cat Soap Opera Continues...

Trezhy was happily snoozing on my lap as I sat in the armchair where I use my laptop when it's connected to the modem. Then I went to get something to eat, and returned to find Trezh had claimed the chair. So I did stuff with photos on my desktop 'puter (using software that isn't on my laptop) and let Trezh enjoy the armchair by himself.

His aunt Tabitha comes to sit on the armchair, and wants to snuggle with Trezhy. She doesn't seem to be trying to push him off - she's smooching him and purring - but he isn't keen to share, so hops down and wanders off.
Then Ember comes to sit on the armchair with her mum, and smooches Tabitha just as Tabitha was smooching Trezh. Poor Ember is smacked by her mum, and goes away.
Rosy comes in, sees me at the desktop, Tabitha on the chair, and Trezh and Ember roaming around, and goes to sit on the cardboard box in the corner by the window.
Ember tries sharing the armchair with Tabitha again, this time just curling up next to her, not smooching. Tabitha tolerates this.

Trezhy jumps onto my lap as I sit at the workstation trying to do stuff on my extremely slow desktop puter, and settles down happily to snuggle and snooze.

Sandy comes in and playfights with the stripey rug by herself, and mrrps at me asking for chin rubs, which I manage by twisting and leaning to reach her behind me. She has previously shared a sofa with her sister Tabitha, and thinks about joining her on the armchair, but sharing the armchair with Ember as well would be too much, so she settles on the rug.


Ember is nudging Tabitha, wanting her mum to wash her. I reach over to give each of them chin rubs, but it's hard to do that without disturbing Trezhy. I suggest to Tabitha that she and Ember could give each other face washes, but after licking Ember's forehead once or twice, Tabitha starts biting her neck, and not in a friendly way. They squabble, and Tabitha leaves the armchair, and goes to sit on another box next to the one Rosy is on. Rosy is wary, but not going to take action unless Tabitha starts something.

Treasure leaves my lap to go and have a snack in the kitchen, and Ember follows to see if any interesting new food has appeared. I've finished doing stuff with photos on the desktop, so I close it down, and move back to the now vacant armchair and start using the laptop again.
Sandy comes to sit with me on the armchair - yay! She doesn't often sit on or near my lap, so I'm pleased when she does.

Fern is still out, avoiding Sandy and Ember; sadly I don't see much of my darling girl - I really need to rehome Tabitha and Ember so Ferny can feel more relaxed in her home again.

Sandy is bothered by my clicking away at the keyboard and so leaves me and the armchair, and curls up on the chair I use at the desktop workstation.

Ember comes to sit with me on the armchair. She's not into laps either, but is very happy to smooch a bit. She headbutts my arm, I rub her forehead and chin, she purrs, tries to bite me in a friendly but ouchy way, I pull my arm away, she settles down on the arm of the chair.

Trezhy comes back in and approaches me; Sandy perks up on the computer chair and tries to swat him. They shadow box a bit. Trezhy jumps back up on my lap, but isn't really happy sharing the chair with Ember, even though she's just on one arm of it, so he leaves again - not sure where he is now.

Musical chairs? French farce? Just another day in a multi-cat household.

Some Day This Pain Will Be Useful To You

Really not a good idea to read a novel with a central character whose chronic depression occasionally worsens into emotional anguish that leads him to feeling suicidal, not when I'm feeling a bit low myself.

It's very well written, this novel - title is Some Day This Pain Will Be Useful To You (I don't really like title case, with every word starting with a capital letter, but I guess it's the right thing for a title). Can't remember the author's name - Paul someone, I think. and I'm so pissed off with the book right now that I'm not going to look it up, or check the copy of the book which I flung across my room a while ago. (I don't usually fling books; I think books are wonder-full and should be treated with tender loving care, unless they're really crap, in which case they deserve sympathy, cos it's not their fault their pages are covered with piffle.)

So, an intelligent 18 year old, who was told when he was 7 or so that he was too clever for his own good, and that he talked too much, has become a silent, isolated teenager who finds the company of people his own age distressing and can't see the point of talking to anyone much. Funny, that.

I was becoming increasingly upset by the book, as it reminded me so much of when I was a depressed teenager who couldn't see the point of talking because people don't listen and if they do they don't understand or don't approve or think you're stupid or whatever. So I looked at the end, thinking maybe the boy killed himself, and if so I'd stop reading it, and it looks like he doesn't, he does something "positive" instead, which pissed me off so much I stopped reading it. I mean, he's chronically depressed, life is freaking awful (because of his depression, and his learnt behaviours, and the fact that most people don't really care what you say or how you say it), so it's not really going to help if he talks to some guy his own age on the phone, is it? Not when the guy thinks it'd be cool to go and see A Long Day's Journey Into Night. Bleargh.

So. And I haven't slept much, if at all, since my afternoon nap (of several hours), and it's now 6am, which is about when I went to bed yesterday (this morning), which probably isn't helping my state of mind either, but there you go. Coping strategies aren't always good for you.

A couple of hours ago I'd actually switched the light off and was probably going to sleep fairly soon, but there was a screaming cat fight outside somewhere, so I went out to see who it was (I have three cats, who are all indoors tonight, thank heavens, and am looking after two other cats, who are outdoors most of the time, because they're used to being street cats, and get freaked out and wail and break out through fly-screens if I shut them in), and stepped on a slug in the laundry, which was disgusting (and probably fatal for the slug - I threw it out into the backyard), and then went to check out the front, and my friend Sandy was coming back across the street with her tail all bristly, and hissing at whoever it was she'd been fighting with.

So I sat outside and talked with Sandy for a while, and sang to her (good thing my flatmate's away, cos her bedroom window opens onto the front yard where I was sitting with Sandy), and stroked her, and let her bite and kick my hand (she doesn't bite all that hard, but the kicking can scratch through a layer or two of skin) till she calmed down a bit. Which made me feel much better, that I could do something to help someone. And I understand Sandy's desire to beat the shit out of someone when she's stressed, angry or afraid.

In practise I'm much more like her sister Tabitha, who is a very sweet-natured, timid cat - Sandy's survival tactic is to be tougher than anyone who threatens her, unless they're really big and dangerous, like a dog or a human, in which case she runs really fast and climbs really well. Tabitha's survival tactic is to be small and go around things and back down and run away and climb well. And if people are kind to her she's very smoochy; she likes having chin rubs and tummy rubs, although she's very wary at the moment because I gave her a tablet the other night, and she hasn't started trusting me again yet.

So now I've written this (and might actually post it), I'll go back to bed and have another go at sleeping. The indoors cats will probably want to go out soon, as it's getting light. Hmmm. Should I let them out now, and then go to bed? Or go to bed, and hope they don't wake me up too soon, wanting food or to be let out. We'll see...

Good lord! well, I did look it up, the author's name is Peter Cameron, and there's a feature film based on the book (which was published in 2007) which will be released in February 2012 (if you're reading this post after Feb 2012, please read that as "which was released in...").
I don't know that I want to see the film. But who knows, it might be less agonising than reading the book. The cast looks really good. But there's no mention in the cast of John who works at the art gallery, so maybe they cut him out, and used something else for that pivotal scene from the book.

Here's a photo of Sandy, because she's beautiful.

Rainy Sunday, landlord visit, & hairballs

Interesting day so far: woken early by cats, as usual; got up, let them out, topped up their food & water, smooched them, went back to bed (having stayed up late studying then ebaying, really needed more sleep). Late morning - a knock at the door. My flatmate's out, so I stumble out of bed, pull on my jeans (slept in t-shirt), open door to our landlord.

Not entirely unexpected visit, cos I rang him early in the week; he missed that call; I missed his return call; I meant to ring again this weekend. He's a considerate bloke, happy to just talk on the doorstep as it's an unscheduled appearance, but it's chilly, drizzling and windy, and there are things I want to show him, so I invite him in. Relieved to see that the place is reasonably clean & tidy (other than my bedroom, which I closed the door on – as much as I can, given the suitcase in the way).

I show him the broken towel rail in the bathroom, ask if I should buy a new one at Bunnings; he's happy with that, will install it himself. He's not even fazed by the enormous crack in the skirting board where my flatmate's picture fell down – says he'll fix that with some white fill (probably not the kind dentists use). I show him the wonky tap over the kitchen sink (glad I washed up), and the broken sash-cord in the kitchen window, both of which he says he'll fix next weekend. Little bit concerned that he's planning to do all of it himself, but we'll see how it goes.

Then I settle down to check my emails, look at my eBay lists, have some midday breakfast – until Rosy throws up. Her long fur is so gorgeous, but gives her hairballs quite often, despite my attempts to brush her. Usually she manages to chunder on the wooden floor (easy to clean, except if vomit goes into the cracks between floorboards), or a flat-weave rug, but this time she barfs on my flatmate's shag-pile (cotton, not wool, thank heavens) rug. Which I washed just recently. Oh well. I can probably sponge the stain out, now that I've wiped off the bile and blobs of fur.

After that, the three cats and I had a fun time playing outside in the chill wind (no drizzle at that point), then I came back in to work on my assignments – sorry, “assignment” singular – the last one! Which is why I'm posting here, instead of writing about learning environments and risk assessments. (does cat vomit count as an OHS risk? I s'pose it does.)

the chair in the park

I've just watched two eps of Bones on telly, one last night, one tonight, so I'm using a Bones-style title for this post.

I loved that the ep screened on Channel 7 tonight had a character called Harriet, who was in industrial espionage - Harriet the Spy :-D

so the chair was sitting under some lovely big gum trees (will get photo of them next time) in the park where I go to feed the street cats. there are a couple of park benches installed by the local council, but this was a dining chair, with nice red patterned fabric on the seat. it came in very handy when I decided that if Lenny wasn't going to come to the food, then I'd take the food to Lenny.




after going to the optometrist for a check-up, and buying groceries at the supermarket at the end of the street, I went back to my car to stash the groceries and pick up the catfood that I'd brought from home - 3 sachets and a tin of fish/meat/chicken, a box of dry food/biscuits, and several containers that had had muffins in them, which make good dishes for the food and milk.


Smoky was waiting under my car - I know she and the others of her family that are still around do recognise me as someone who will feed them and not hurt them, but that's the first time I've thought she recognised my car, presumably by smell. they know me by sight, and know my voice when I call 'puss, puss, puss', but my car looks just like every other little red Hyundai, so it must be the smell of my cats that Smoky recognised (if she did - it could've been coincidence, cos they do sit under other cars sometimes, and I'd parked near where they usually hang out).

oh, this was meant to be a shorter post! I do ramble on, sorry. hopefully either you skipped the previous paragraph, or you find speculations about animal intelligence/memory/senses as interesting as I do.

before I put food out for Smoky, I called 'puss, puss', hoping Sandy and the others would turn up. No one else showed, so I left Smoky eating and went to the house where Sandy had raised her kittens from 3 weeks to 7 weeks.
there used to be some very friendly Korean guys living there, who put food out for Sandy & her babies (but weren't too keen on any of the other street cats, and were a bit hostile to Lenny).



now there are different guys living there, who are generally unsympathetic to all the street cats, and very hostile to any that they find in their vegie garden, which they put a lot of work into.
Two of the guys were sitting in the backyard smoking & chatting; I greeted them and asked if there were any cats around, and they said no, quite emphatically, so I went back to the park.

I stood guard while Smoky ate, smiling at passers by, chatting with ones who seemed friendly, and wishing them a happy new year if they looked like they might be Chinese, Korean, or Vietnamese. After Smoky'd had most of a sachet, some dry food & milk, and was washing her face, I heard a tom caterwauling at the other end of the park, so I went calling, hoping it might be Lenny.



no sign of the tom, but Sandy appeared, meowing loudly back to me, so I was able to smooch with her and give her food too. after she'd eaten, and was washing her face, Tabby leapt over the fence from the front yard of the jungle house, so she, like her sisters, had most of a sachet, some dry food & some milk (and Sandy & Smoky had a bit more wet food, so they wouldn't try and steal Tabby's).



then I realised that Lenny was sitting on a wooden frame covered in shade cloth, in the backyard of the jungle house, overlooking the park. he was obviously keen to get some food, but too wary of me, and the frequent passers-by, to come down into the park. I put the last of the third sachet of wet food, and some dry food, into one of the muffin-tray lids, and, standing on tiptoes and hanging onto the fence for balance, managed to push it up onto the shadecloth a metre or so away from Lenny. he did retreat while I was doing that, but the lovely stinky fishy food drew him back, and once I'd backed off, he tucked in.


meanwhile, Sandy and I played and smooched, Tabby and Smoky sat and watched, and I chatted to passers-by. one woman stopped and took photos of them with her phone. another admired the cats, Smoky particularly, and I told her about their history. she said she'd like to adopt one, but only if they were friendly. I said that there was a young cat who was quite friendly, who I might be able to socialise enough that she could be adopted - I showed the woman a photo of Ember on my phone.

shortly after the woman continued on her way, I saw Ember, crossing the road from the jungle house, heading away from the park. I called, and she came (once she realised who I was) and I opened the tin catfood, thinking I probably would have to take some of it home, as Sandy & her sisters all seemed satisfied, and Lenny wasn't coming down to eat.



however, the sound of the tin opening, and the smell of the jellymeat, got everyone interested again, so I gave plenty to Ember, while doling out spoonfuls to Sandy, Smoky and Tabby, who did quite well at fitting in some more. Lenny came right to the edge of the shadecloth frame and looked so plaintive that I decided to give him some more dry & tinned food, and to try & give him some milk. that's when I spotted the upholstered chair sitting under the trees a little distance away.



I dished up portions of wet & dry food into three cups of a muffin tray and poured some milk into the fourth, made sure the chair was propped firmly against the fence, and clambered up carefully, putting my weight only on the edges of the chair-frame, as the seat itself seemed pretty dodgy. Lenny fled, but I put the muffin tray carefully in the area he'd been sitting in, then moved myself and the chair a good distance away. the four girls by now had finished eating, Ember tried to smooch with Sandy, who smacked her, and Smoky & Tabby decided to sit under or next to the chair.


it was so good to see Lenny cautiously approach the muffin tray and eat some more - he was so absorbed in scoffing food that I was able to take a couple of photos, and once he'd eaten, and I'd not made any attempt to grab him, he relaxed enough to come and sit right at the edge and observe Sandy and me playing chaseys with long twigs from the gum trees.

The Lives (and Deaths) of Street Cats

Lenny is still alive!

I hadn't seen him for a few months, and when I'd seen him in winter & early spring, he looked really ill with cat flu. He's very sweet natured, but somewhat unprepossessing, extremely wary of all humans, and not assertive enough with the other cats to get his fair share of any food that's going. So I was totally surprised and delighted to hear him caterwauling today in true tom-cat fashion (shame I didn't manage to trap, desex, release him back in the days when I fed him every night, and he'd come within touching distance of me). I was in the backyard of the Korean guys' house, feeding Sandy and Tabby when I heard him. I called; he peered over the fence at me; I waved an open sachet of smelly fishy cat food enticingly; he came a little closer; then one of the residents came home with much banging and stomping, and Lenny fled. the returning worker and I bowed to each other. The current Korean guys mostly seem to be neutral about cats, but very tolerant of the Mad Anglo Lady who comes into their backyard to feed the cats (who lived there before they did).


Tabby















Sandy and Tabby had eaten about a third of a 400g tin of cat food each, plus had a handful or two of dry food, plus Sandy drank some lactose-free milk (I took the milk away before she went pop - small, skinny cat with bulging sides from wolfing down food as fast as poss).


Sandy in playful mode













I went back along the road to the park beside the Jungle House (the garden is a jungle; the house is actually quite nice in the middle of all the chaotic plants, stored construction materials and bits of motorbikes) and called again, and Smoky turned up - yay! so she got the remaining third of the tin, plus some dry food (and I gave wee bits of the tinned food to Sandy so she'd leave Smoky to eat in peace).


Smoky rolling, Tabby looking wary (photo taken by Rebecca Green in December 2010)










Lenny hadn't reappeared, so I went back to the Korean house, left the fishy sachet on the side gate at the back of the house, near where he'd been before, hoping he'd eat it soon and that it wouldn't piss off the residents by sitting stinking for hours. (Sandy's habit of using their lovely vegetable garden as a toilet undoubtedly and justifiably does annoy them, but that patch of ground was her toilet before they went and planted vegies there)

then I went to put the Street Cat Food Bag back in my car, and get the shopping bags that I planned to use at Woollies after I'd picked stuff up from my PO box and bought chicken from Lefkas Chicken. I checked down the side of the Korean house as I walked past, hoping to see Lenny eating the smelly fish, but instead saw a white duck. or possibly a goose. I'm not very knowledgable about waterfowl. Sandy looked like she wanted to take the duck/goose on, but it rose up and flapped its wings menacingly, and she thought better of it.














As I got back to the car, Shadow turned up, and dashed around hopefully, wanting food and/or stroking, so I got the last sachet out and gave it to her, fending Sandy and Smoky off with tiny bits of wet food so they'd let Shadow eat in peace. (Tabby is much less assertive, and made do with more dry food) So the four female felines had all eaten, and Lenny had some food that he could eat, if he could get over his urge to spend all his time caterwauling, his understandable fear of humans, and possibly some competition from the goose (or duck).

I stayed at the park a while to make sure that the cute but mangy dog that wanted to eat the cats' food and/or the cats did neither, then finally set off to pick up parcels (ooh! parcels :-D) from my PO box, buy a nice roast chicken for me and my cats-at-home, and buy some groceries at the supermarket. Cute-but-mangy turned out to have an attendant human, who turned up some time after the dog, so I exchanged greetings with her, said how cute the dog was, and how well-behaved he was, not chasing the poor hungry cats, who'd been abandoned through no fault of their own (always good to get in a plug for the cats' abandoned status, work up some sympathy).

My parcels at the post office included a batch of t-shirts from Threadless.com (ooh, I love interesting/beautiful t-shirts! Must. Keep. Within. Budget!), a book I'd ordered from Book Depository (Silver Screen, by Justina Robson), a book I won in an online competition from FableCroft Publishing (The Way of the Wizard, ed. John Joseph Adams), a book sent by my friend Heather in London (I Had a Black Dog, writ & illus by Matthew Johnstone), and a very heavy parcel for my sister (a bunch of doll collectors' magazines, now out of print). what bounty! what joy!

then I toddled off to Lefkas Chicken, where they had No Chicken Left. :-[
however, I'd not only been able to feed & smooch & play with Sandy, feed & stroke Shadow, and feed Tabby & Smoky (boy, I'd love to stroke or preferably brush those two - they have beautiful long fur, that gets so tangled & full of leaves, and must give them awful fur-balls), I'd seen Lenny! so it was worth spending the extra time with the Street Kittehs, and I could get some chicken from Lefkas another time.

shopping at the supermarket was quite straightforward - get enough yoghurt, bananas, salad vegies and double choc muffins to last for the next week (i.e. until I've moved to my new home - eek!), and several rolls more packing tape (even though I'm two-thirds packed, you can Never Have Too Much Packing Tape), and then push the wobbly trolley back to where I'd parked by the park. (Woollies in Campsie is very civilised, and allows shoppers to take trolleys to their cars, even if they're a few blocks away. this is very convenient for customers, and provides a job for the Trolley Man, who drives around collecting the shopping trolleys & returning them to the supermarket)











I gave Sandy, Tabby and Shadow some more dry food (I'd seen cute-but-mangy finishing what I'd left for them as I came back from Woollies), and peered hopefully past the waterfowl down the side of the Korean house to see if the smelly fish had been eaten, but couldn't really tell.

Still no sign of Henri or Sibby (not sighted for a couple of months), or Dragon or Shelly (not sighted for at least five months) - they might just be avoiding me, or be eating elsewhere, or may have sadly met their end on the road, as several others from their extended family have.

Street Cat Diaries

hello blog! sorry I haven't spoken with you in ages (and that I keep drafting posts and then leaving them unpublished because I am Filled with Doubt).

tonight as I drove home along the City West link I was amazed and delighted to see what looked like a huge rising crescent moon, but was actually the full moon in almost total eclipse, golden against the lilac sky, and perfectly poised, from my perspective, centred above the arch of the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

it was a gorgeous sight, but no less thrilling to me than seeing the street cats in Marlowe Street a little earlier this evening.

'Street Cat Diaries' was the name suggested by Facebook friend Tim Roberts for a blog about Sandy and the other street cats of Marlowe Street Campsie, who I got to know in September 2009. I didn't actually blog about the kittehs, only posted about them on Facebook a lot, which I now regret, cos it'll be hard to retrieve all the status updates and comments to put the story back together.

wow, it's just struck me that Sandy befriended me more than 15 months ago now. and I first glimpsed her and her five sisters in February/March 2009, when they were probably two or three months old.

in the interim, I began feeding them occasionally; gradually got to know them; gave them names (who knows what their real names are? but I named them for my convenience, and so my friends would know who I meant more easily than if I said "the other short-haired blonde one, not the really friendly one"); bought more and more cat food so I could feed the six sisters and various toms every night; was banned from feeding them on the property (I was renting a flat in a small block where the 90-year-old woman who'd had the flats built 40 years ago still resided, and the property manager, her daughter, visited once or twice a week); realised the catlings were going to be reproducing soon; started to trap, desex & release them; and became firmly attached to one of the second generation kittens, who befriended me despite his mother being so frightened of and hostile towards humans that the neighbours across the road called her Hissy, and I called her Dragon.

friendly, brave Treasure and his at-first frightened sister Rosy now live with me, in a pet-friendly flat that I moved to after the younger landlady gave me notice, as does their cousin, Sandy's daughter Fern.

... (intervening chapters to be compiled/written later) ...

anyway, today was an amazing, intense day in many ways. I hadn't seen Tabby or her daughter Shadow for ages, and was really worried that something bad had happened to Shadow (e.g. dog attack or hit by a car), because she'd seemed in good health, and usually came running to greet me and ask for food whenever I visited Marlowe Street. So when I pulled up by the park in Marlowe Street and saw first Sandy, then Tabby, then Shadow, I was thrilled!

the three cats gulped down a 400g tin of Whiskas between them, and had some dry food too. Sandy was happy to play & smooch with me, Shadow let me stroke her (as long as I stroked her when she had her back to me - seeing a hand come towards her scares her too much), and Tabby even let me stroke her once (but I desisted after that, cos it obviously upset her).

while I was feeding those three, a woman stopped to admire the cats, and asked me about them. I told her that the cats had been born in 'that backyard over there', and the people living there had sort of fed them, but then left them behind when they moved out. the woman was impressed that I had fed them every night for six months or so while living nearby, and that I came to Campsie every week or two to feed them since I'd moved away (personally I feel privileged to know the kittehs, and I miss Sandy a lot).

we had a great discussion about how animals have feelings too, cats being related to lions and leopards (who can run very fast) and that cats aren't obedient like dogs, but they can still be very loving. the kittehs meanwhile were eating, washing, looking at me for more food, playing (in Sandy's case), and taking cover in the nearby 'jungle garden' when other people walked by, specially if there were several people at once, or a dog being walked.


Shadow eating - pic taken in early November, when she still had her winter coat, so wasn't quite so obviously thin.








the woman was so moved by seeing the skinny, scared cats eating and letting me stroke them, that she gave me a packet of frozen coconut juice, which she explained to me was frozen fresh in Thailand, shipped to Australia, and only available in Chinese food stores. I was very touched, and thanked her - not sure if coconut would agree with me (does anyone know what the salicylate level of coconut is?) but can give it to someone - and it was handy to use as a cold pack, given that I was about to go shopping for things including perishables. we bowed to each other, and she continued on, while I stayed and played with Sandy some more, then went looking for Smoky, who had had the flu the last couple of times I saw her.

there's now only one house out of the three that the cats used to live around that still welcomes them (and me when I come to feed them), so I went to their backyard and called Smoky. Sandy of course came too, so when Smoky appeared, I gave her as much of the sachet of wet food as I could, while giving Sandy little bits, and stroking her to distract her. I know Sandy could've done with more too, but Smoky hadn't had any, and my darling Sandy is a bit of a mean girl even when she's not starving, and all her sisters are wary of her smacking them, even Smoky, who is the next toughest of the litter. one of the guys came out of the house just as Smoky was finishing the last remnants of fishyness, and she and Sandy both bolted - I guess not all the current human residents are on good terms with the kittehs.

After that I went to the post office and picked up lots of lovely goodies from my PO box:
a CD of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy from a friend (thank you, Andrew!); two books from Twelfth Planet Press that I'd bought online in their 12 Days of Christmas Sale - two novellas in one volume, Siren Beat by Tansy Rayner Robers and Roadkill by Robert Shearman, and a collection of short stories by Deborah Biancotti, A Book of Endings; a tiny wee teddy bear figurine that my sister bought for my aunt & had posted to Campsie to make sure she could get it before Xmas; sundry newsletters, catalogues & appeals from charities; and a Christmas card from a friend in Wales.

my favourite chicken shop is in Campsie too, Lefkas Chicken on Beamish Street, where I bought the last half chicken (phew! my kittehs at home would not have been pleased if I'd come home from Campsie without chicken!), and the lovely proprietor Joanne wished me a merry Christmas "and your mum and your sister too", and said if we wanted a chook for Xmas, we'd need to order it (note to self: check with Becca; probably order chicken).

Rebecca has planned a yummy menu of things that will be pretty and easy for our mum to eat (Mama only likes soft food now), so I went to World of Fruit in search of white sweet potato, then wandered around Woollies for ages getting lots of groceries, and finding other ingredients for a red, white & green salad for Xmas lunch - Becca is very creative with food. actually, Becca is very creative generally. have a look at her dolls' house blog http://rebeccascollections.blogspot.com/

I'd already spent much longer in Campsie than I'd planned, but Shadow, Smoky and Tabby were waiting by my car when I got back from shopping, so I gave them some more dry food, and one of the wet food sachets I'd just bought on special at Woollies, and spoke with a teenage boy who was fascinated by the cats. I wondered if perhaps he was autistic, as he was mostly not speaking or making eye contact, and focussed a lot on picking up twigs from the ground and breaking them into same-sized pieces. He watched the cats, and listened when I told him how the cats were related, and agreed when I said that they were very hungry, and quite scared of people, but that one (Shadow) might let him stroke her while she was eating. he stroked her very gently, and let Smoky and Tabby eat in peace. he was still crouching by the cats and breaking twigs when I drove off.

when I got home I thought about going out again to watch the full moon and the eclipse some more, but was tired and wanted to get the cats indoors, feed them, feed me, ring Mum & Rebecca, and ring my potential flatmate about the house we've applied to rent. Treasure and Fern were very happy to come inside (Trezh especially once he smelled the chicken) but Rosy was flitting about in the garden and had no intention of being shut indoors. so Trezh and Fern and I had chicken, I rang Mum and Becca, then my friend who I've been flat-hunting with rang me.

She is feeling very unsure about the place that we've been offered. I am still half-disbelieving that I've finally found somewhere to move to when my lease is up in a few weeks. after two months of looking, hundreds of listings viewed online, scores of details read and photos examined (did you know that 'neat and tidy' means small, and 'original condition' means needing repairs?), about a dozen properties visited, and four applied for, I'm in! except that my friend is blind, and therefore moving is a Very Big Deal for her; anywhere she lives has to be close to public transport; and she doesn't have to move right now, as I do, just wants to be closer to lively cafes and interesting shops than where she is now. As the cute, semi-detached house we've applied for is not particularly close to the station or the local shops and cafes (of which there are a good number), she's not sure if she wants to move at all. But she kindly agreed to co-sign the lease this week, without which I'd have no hope of getting the place, and continue to think about the move over the next week or so. if she decides to move, great; if not, she'll let me know so I can start looking for another flatmate, and hopefully not have to pay the whole rent for too long.

After that, I just wanted to go to bed, but went outside to look for Rosy, who was still having fun romping around in the garden. at least this time she rolled on the ground to invite a tummy rub, rather than running of somewhere I couldn't catch her. I obliged with a tummy rub (she has gorgeous soft fur), and just as I picked her up to bring her in, my landlord let his collie out for her night-time wee, and she rushed barking at me and Rosy. Rosy struggled to get free and run, I hung on and ran for the door to my flat, Rosy scratched me but I managed to get her inside and slam the door shut, and turn to say "no!" firmly to Nessie the lovely collie. Nessie was very disappointed not be able to play with (read: chase and possibly bite) Rosy, but happy to have a scratch around the ears from me. Rosy was relieved to get away from the Big Barking Dog, resigned to being inside, and very happy to have some chicken.

if you're still reading this, well done! you have great stamina :-)
I enjoy blogging, but am not much given to short, frequent posts (as you can probably tell) - despite being tired and planning to go to bed early, I'm still up at one in the morning. That's the trouble with blogging - it's writing, which I love, and which has a similar effect on me to reading a good book - everything else recedes into the distance, bodily sensations such as hunger or fatigue become unimportant, and the words and the world they conjure are everything.

A profusion of purring furry persons

My dear Readers, I apologise for my long absence from these pages. A whirlwind of Events overtook me, in the form of a gradual return to employment (which culminated in being made redundant) and many, many Kittehs.

So many times I've thought of blogging about something I've read or seen, but instead have let the idea disappear into the flow of thoughts, events and actions that burbles along from day to day.



And if I did write about a piece of fiction, or an Exciting Event in real life, it would most likely be a status update on Facebook, where friends would often respond with comments and stories of their own - a gratifying, interesting and enjoyable interaction that so far isn't happening on this blog.

So, since November I have kitnapped first one kitten, then a second (both of whom are still with me - we are now family); unsuccessfully attempted to kitnap another sibling of those two; successfully taken in, succoured, and then rehomed another; then taken four at once, who are currently with me but whom I hope to find good homes for soon.


In between those kitnappings (very gentle, loving kitnaps, I assure you, resulting in the kittens receiving good food, shelter, necessary medicines, and lots of cuddles) I also trapped (less gently, but still humanely) a number of cats aged between one year and (I estimate) approximately five years old - plus a four-month-old who managed to trap herself when I was trying to capture a pregnant one-year-old.

The four-month-old and all but one of the adult cats have been desexed and returned to their home territory; the exception was a heavily pregnant female who was very distressed by being trapped (she managed to get out of the trap while I was trying to put newspaper in to make it more comfortable, and bit & scratched me ferociously, poor girl) - she I took to the pound, where the vet nurse reassured me that many of the strays they received are rehomed rather than being put down.


Most days (usually at night) I've been feeding the street cats and getting to know them quite well. They certainly recognise me, expect me to produce food whenever they see me, and wait outside my flat at night for me to come and feed them (despite my having trapped, desexed & released about half of them). So that's the story so far (leaving out the various cat-loving, cat-hating, and cat-ignorant neighbours I've met, the issues with my landlady, and the War on Fleas).

The major recurring characters are:

Sandy (loving, friendly, slightly crazy young street cat who has adopted me as her human), a light-brown and white short-haired female with cream swirls in the shape of tie-died circles or parentheses;

Fern, Charlie, Lotty and Blanche, Sandy's kittens;

Shelly (wary of humans, the weakest & least confident of her litter, but very protective of Dragon's kittens), a light-brown and white short-haired female with faint striping, and Sandy's sister;

Dragon (hostile to humans, willing to accept food but will hiss at every interaction), a long-haired strawberry blonde with very faint stripes - another of Sandy's sisters;

Treasure and Rosy, my adopted kittens, offspring of Dragon;
Leo and Rufus, Dragon's kittens, missing presumed dead;

Cheyenne (wary of humans, but not hostile), a pale apricot long-haired cat, another of Sandy's litter-mates;

Wee Rufus and Mini-Leo, killed by cars, offspring of Cheyenne;
Joey, kitnapped & rehomed, and Petal, yet to be caught, both offspring of Cheyenne;

Tabitha (known as Tabby, semi-friendly but somewhat averse to being stroked), a medium-haired black & grey tabby/swirly cat, with clear circles/parentheses - also one of Sandy's sisters;

Tiger, Shadow, Tabitha, offspring of Tabby/Tabitha Sr;

Smoky (quite friendly but averse to being stroked), a long-haired grey & cream tabby/swirly cat with faint circles/parentheses - another of Sandy's sisters;

Spark, Ember, (maybe also Mischka), offspring of Smoky;

William (very friendly, high-ranking tom, loves being stroked, but a bit tetchy since being desexed), a big handsome dark orange & cream swirly/tabby cat with clear circles/parentheses, and mini angel wings on his shoulder blades - probably father of Dragon's first litter of four, Cheyenne's first litter of four, and Sandy's son Charlie;

Lenny (sweet-natured, wary of humans, woebegone-looking, low-ranking tom), short-legged stocky build, very wide face, black & grey tabby/swirls with white chest and paws - probable father of Smoky's kitten Spark, and of New Cat Selene's son New Kitten Sylvester.

Thomas (uninterested in humans), black & grey tabby/swirly tom with clear circle/parentheses - very probably father of Tabby's kittens, possible sibling of Lenny

Guy (extremely wary of humans and impossible to trap) ginger-tabby and white, tall elegant tom - father of Lotty and Blanche

New Cat Selene (very friendly to me) tall, elegant, narrow-faced grey-tabby & white female - clean & healthy, possibly a dumped pet

New Kitten Sylvester (very friendly & trusting with me, not keen on other kittens, quite trusting of adult cats, most of whom are likely to hiss at or hit him), silver-grey/black & white tabby/swirly baby tom - clean & healthy, possibly a dumped pet, son of Selene

Mischka (very poorly when found, malnourished & not eating, happy to be held) black/grey swirly cat, may be one of Smoky's kittens, or Selene's