happy mogaversary!

I’m a little embarrassed that Mog arrived within an indecently short interval after Midgecat’s death.  I’d not quite intended it that way – hence the “accidental fosterer”.  Half out my head with grief and helped along by the old speckled hen after burying her, I struggled to work out what on earth to do.  Being without a cat around the house was unbearable (I’d had a week of it whilst MC was at the vets) but it was equally unthinkable that I could go off to a rescue and adopt someone else. 

One of my lovely cousins came to mind who fosters for http://elrefugioescuela.com/ and I wondered if there might be something similar over here.  That way I could have a furry person around but not choose to actually adopt one.   So in a blur I made that life changing post on Sheffield Forum:

http://www.sheffieldforum.co.uk/showthread.php?t=648201

I’d sort of expected some suggestions of who to approach, and an application and references, and eventually hopefully a cat being placed with me – so thought it would make sense to start some enquiries straight away.  I hadn’t quite expected to be plunged straight into the middle of it.  It’s all very well thinking in a general sense about leaving a decent amount of time before taking on another cat – but having heard about Lucy (as she was then), and that she was hiding behind the settee in her current place I couldn’t expect her to cower there until I was ready.  On the basis that we’d both had a shit week – me with Midgecat being ill and dying, and Lucy having lived in a garden for months, been taken into a foster placement that didn’t work out, and moved to another place that wasn’t working out – it seemed right that she come here.

One thing led to another of course, Lucy the foster cat quickly became Mog the forever cat.  And the post on Sheffield Forum became one of that handful of apparently trivial things in a lifetime that change the whole direction of ones life.

Happy Anniversary of moving into my home, my life and my heart Mog!

in memory of the midgecat

It’s the anniversary today of my precious Midgecat’s death.  As you might expect, it feels a million years ago and just yesterday.  I’m old enough to have experienced my share of painful bereavements of people both furry and smooth, but I’m not sure anything was quite so agonising as going to collect her lifeless hairy body from the vets, and burying her.  The loss of a furry companion is something so often under-estimated by the rest of the world, but few relationships are as uncomplicatedly loving and devoted as the ones we have with our pets. 

Midgecat arrived ten years ago, at a time when although I didn’t know it, my life badly needed a cat.  She was kind of a rescue cat but being Midge she didn’t bother going through an agency – just turned up in the garden one day, and before you could say “cat flap” she’d moved herself in with us.  She saw me through some difficult times and many happy times, and supervised two house moves.  She should still be here – she was only 9.

I wonder what she’d make of her home now?  She hated cats, rejected out of hand my suggestion that we got another cat, but was happy for our friend Molliedog to come round for a sleepover so long as Mollie understood who the boss was.  I feel guilty sometimes that I’ve filled the house with felines since she died, and fear she’ll be turning in her grave.  Biff reckons though that she’d be chuffed if she knew about it – all these other beautiful cats and kittens are still not enough to fill the hole that she left. 

She was certainly one of a kind.  The only cat I ever met who loved power tools – the bigger and noisier the better.  Often she left me wondering about past lives and who she might have been.  Soon after she arrived with us she watched her dad change a washer in the bath tap – so intent, so quick to poke her fingers in when he moved away, rummaging in the tool bag sorting through things.  Perhaps she’d been a plumber?  She was certainly a smart little bunny – in the old days of dial up internet she could open up the browser and connect to the internet whilst I was in the kitchen making tea.  And a few of the keyboard short cuts I know now are thanks to her.  In the time its taken for the current incumbents to figure out how to use the cat flap she’d have had it reprogrammed and set so it didn’t lock when it went dark.

Rest in Peace lovely girl.  One thing’s for sure – you’ll never be forgotten.

celebrating

We’ve been having a bit of a celebration this evening because Coco has found her new home.  A really lovely couple came to meet her last night, and she’s going off to live with them tomorrow.  All rehomings are wonderful but I’m particularly delighted for this little one.  She’s had such a rough start in life. 

In foster care she’s been the best of cats and the worst.  Somewhere along the line she seemed to lose the plot with her litter tray.  Eating like crazy so her little body could feed her hungry little ones, and poohing like crazy too.  Seems like her head and her hormones were all over the place and the litter tray was just one thing too much to worry about.  Now she’s been speyed, and her kits have gone off to their new homes and things are settling down, its all come back in control.  Thank goodness.

She’s been an adorable little love too.  I’m sure she’s had an important and lasting effect on Rosie’s kits.

Rosie, in her own difficulties and for her own reasons, was a grouchy mum who growled at her little ones and swiped at them when they ran up to her for a cuddle.  Coco calmy took them on board as well as her own.  She’s sat with them, snuggled up with them, licked and cuddled them.  Rosie has been living it up in her new home for several weeks now but Coco has still been mothering her little ones.  I’ve mentioned before how little Rabbit snook in for a feed whilst Coco was feeding her kits.  I thought the breast feeding was over a long time ago, Rosie’s kits are almost as big as Coco – but this afternoon I saw her snuggled up with all 4 of them sucking on her.   Perhaps its her way of saying goodbye.

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distant memories of relaxing hot baths

As I got into the bath this evening I had a fleeting flash back to days when I’d run myself a nice hot bath, candle light and aromatherapy and a nice drink on the side.  Was it just a dream?  I jumped in the bath tonight – towels pegged onto the towel rail so they can’t be dragged off, clean clothes balanced on top of the door – the only place the kits can’t reach them.  No nice glass of wine on the side, because it would be on the floor before you could say “Sláinte”.  And candles? – don’t even go there.

I’d just sunk under the water when there was a scratting and a thunk, and I realised Rocket had finally managed to squirm through the gap in the bathside and wriggle under the bath.  I’ve seen him trying several times this week, so now he’s achieved his ambition.  I try to remember what pipes and wires are under there and whether to leave him to explore until I’m ready to get out. Whilst I’m weighing it up Rabbit charges in, straight up onto the edge of the bath, wobbling precariously and trying to guess whether you can stand safely on bubble bath or not.  I grab him and pop him back on the floor and fiddle with the side of the bath to release it for Rock to clamber out.  And then try to push it back in before his brothers all rush in to see what he’s been up to.

Happy days!

Crotchet has gone off to his new home yesterday, the last of Coco’s kits to go.  We’ve heard from his brother and sister during the week and they both seem to be doing well.  Little Crumble has made friends with her new brothers who have been taking her under their wings.  Cwaver has been checking out his super new toys and his new family.

Robin has had a bit of a breakthrough this weekend and started accepting being stroked.  Real head to tail purry strokes.  He’s wary still if you approach him head on, but whilst he’s eating, or whilst he’s in the general kitten cuddle scrum he’s fine.  After over two months of caring for him from a distance, its hard to describe just how lovely it is to finally be able to give him a cuddle.  These lads are such lovely boys – full of character, utterly adorable.

jango’s turn

A big fat orange boy whispered in my ear recently that he didn’t seem to have had a mention here for a long while.  I’ve written about Mog’s disappearance (and thankfully her reappearance), and Sooty’s health but not mentioned the third of the resident trio.  “Thing is Jag” I said, “you don’t exactly do anything to write about”.  He did his best and we now have a photo shoot of him sleeping in his basket, and an action shot of him snoozing half way down the garden.  Bless the boy … I adore him.