That one moment...

I absolutely love early mornings at this time of year, when it's warm enough to fling open the back door with gay abandon at 6.00am and revel in the mysteries of Mother Nature. A time when the local wildlife, and my moggies, can benefit from the coolest part of the day relatively undisturbed and unmolested by the inhabitants of Ipswich. The first songstress of the dawn chorus started at 4.40am and by this time they are in full force, filling the air with conflicting notes that in any normal choir would not work but in this scenario, the harmonies are perfect.

After practically frothing at the mouth like rabid wild animals in their exuberance to get out of the house (well, apart from our typical teenager Lunar who is still in bed as we speak!), the Effervescent Eight have mostly left the building. I watch my little furry family proceed down the garden path, some casually strolling, others at such a pace that I am sure they have people to see & things to do, and I wonder to myself what the day will bring. Then, after sitting on our garden bench for five minutes, I gaze around to map out everyone's location. I can see Jacob on the windowsill indoors, know that Midget is still upstairs with my daughter and can no longer see Feelix so that leaves four to account for. Wednesday, creeping delicately along the fence two gardens up like a little black stealth machine; check. Spike, again on the fence two gardens up but sitting regally on a post with his plush tail hanging over the edge like a rudder, calmly surveying his kingdom; check. Gizzy, sauntering nonchalantly down our garden with her usual regal air, ensuring that her royal subject (aka Me!) is aware of her outstanding beauty; check. And finally Oscar being...... well, just Oscar, so no changes there then.

Suddenly, above our heads is a flurry of wings and a female blackbird lands on the fence not four feet from where Oscar and I are both sitting. She is obviously completely unaware that either of us would be sitting there and has clearly misjudged her landing position. For that one brief moment the expression on Oscar's face is priceless; it's as if all his birthdays and Christmases have come at once and his little brain is attempting to compute all of the info available to him. Luckily Mrs Blackbird's grip on reality is faster than Oscar's and realising her logistical error, she takes flight again leaving my little ginger cat to ponder the what ifs.

Within seconds his attention has turned to a bug flying past and the whole incident is forgotten, well, by him anyway but it's one that will stick with me for a long time. That one moment, caught in the beautiful amber eyes of a cat called Oscar.

Her Ladyship

Terry Pratchett once wrote "In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this".

A large proportion of The Effervescent Eight are under the illusion that this applies to them and the main candidate is Gizzy. This beautiful tabby feline is long & sleek with delicate white paws that give her a regal air. Her aloof nature merely adds to the persona and we have long referred to her as the royal element of the Smith household and in turn her nickname has become "Her Ladyship".

Cats have been a large part of my life for the last 25 years and many have "moulded" me into the feline-fascinated person that I am today. They say that dogs have masters, cats have staff and I believe this to be true. Her Ladyship does her utmost to ensure that I remember this but now it would appear that my neighbours are supposed to understand this unwritten rule too. Today, Robert who lives 2 doors down, was attempting to cut his grass with long-handled shears. Not a difficult task given the right conditions but nigh on impossible when there is a cat laying in the grass! Robert continued to get closer & closer but Gizzy refused to move and was trusting enough to assume that the blades would not touch her. And what did Robert do? He cut around the clump where she was laying!!

As Gizzy does not wear a crown I can only assume that the royal signals are being given off on a subliminal level  Why else would a grown man adapt his gardening techniques to accommodate a little furry cat......

Paws for thought.

Cats feet are a beautiful creation of nature. Five little islands, nestled in a sea of fur. All are different, like fingerprints, but all uniquely gorgeous.

The Effervescent Eight are good examples of Mother Nature's design. Feelix is a typical ginger, with white fur & pink pads; being a tabby Gizzy has an assortment of pink & black pads intermingled into delicate little feet. Spike, well he has what we lovingly refer to as ETH (Excess Toe Hair); during the warmer months this does not cause any problems but when there is snow about it's another matter. If he stays out for any length of time when the good old white stuff is on the ground then he ends up coming in with snow shoes on! Wednesday is the complete opposite, with petite little feet and long toes. Her little party piece is for my daughter to pick her up in one hand and get her to stretch out her delicate little front legs with the other hand as though she is waving. Jake is another with beautiful long black legs & toes but he hides an impressive set of fisherman's hooks on the end that I try not to argue with. Midge & Lunar both have little compact feet and then there's Oscar. Oscar is not a huge cat but has a very heavy footfall and we always hear him before we see him. And his toes are the most hilarious of all ours cats because his are what we call tings! What on earth are tings I hear you say? Tings are toes that suddenly flair out from the centre of the foot, like a flower suddenly in bloom, or the sun coming out. He does this at will when he's cleaning himself, displaying web-like membranes between the toes as though he's a frog. We have had him over five years now and this NEVER fails to bring a smile to our faces. Oscar just looks at us like we're mad (well, maybe we are!).

The most beautiful little feet that ever graced The Safe Haven belonged to Hazel and you would have to go a long way to beat these. RIP Auntie Bint xxx

Excuse me, who owns the damn sofa???

Well apparently, not me! A couple of years ago we were offered the chance of 2 black leather sofas for the healthy price of £100.00. With eight cats in the house, we were finding a fabric suite tiresome as we were forever removing cat hair from the fabric so decided that a leather option would be so much easier. It immediately became obvious that this was a clever purchase as leather wipes remove dirty footprints & any other "feline indiscretions" in the blink of an eye.

The problem is, The Effervescent Eight have claimed said furniture as their own. I am currently secreted in the corner of the two-seater with Feelix who is making full use of a whole seat to himself. As for space on the three-seater - forget it!!!! There are 5 little furry bodies taking up every available inch of the seating. From left to right, Lunar is sleeping on her head with a paw curled around her face; Oscar is laying on the sleeping bag content in the knowledge that his big brother will look after him; "big brother" is Spike who is completely out for the count next to Oscar; next to him is Wednesday, a little under the weather with a head cold & is struggling with a blocked nose and finally Princess Gizzy who is keeping royally aloof at the other end of the sofa.

As a final note, I've just noticed that Oscar's feet are twitching in his sleep - this is a sign that he is happy & dreaming of being a "big cat on the plains" (basically a small cat in a garden) but we'll keep humouring him. I watch my beloved cats and wish that all cats in the world could be as happy. I can keep wishing .....

The fine art of pandering.

I have always been a panderer to others' needs. When my daughter Kirsten was little, Barbies were her thing in a big way. When the manufacturers brought out a trio of gorgeous Barbie Mermaids I was quickly informed that they were a "must have" item so promptly went out and bought the pink & purple dolls but that third Barbie decided that she would elude me for as long as possible. This simply was not acceptable in a little girl's eyes and my nemesis was finally tracked down and purchased in a small toy shop in Norwich. The look on Kirsten's face when she had the complete set was priceless and that made it all worthwhile; I just like to make people happy.

This rule also applies to my cats (strange that, eh?). Back in 1989, when Kevan and I got out first flat together my new kitchen was perfectly colour coordinated with red accessories which included a large flat-topped bin. At the time, the lid had no significance but once Frodo and then Basil joined our family it became evident that the bin now had dual purpose - both as a receptacle for rubbish and as a platform for little furry bottoms. Basil had worked out that sitting on the bin gave a much-improved view of items on the worktops. At the same time this clever little cat taught himself to beg (yes, beg!) when he wanted something and sitting on the bin, begging at the front door was his way of letting me know he wanted to go out. Clever eh? In 1994, when we moved to Kingston Road I committed a carnal sin - I bought a new bin! This proved uneventful until we took on Spike. Spike is a sweetheart but not, how can I put this nicely, the sharpest knife in the drawer. The bin I had purchased..... was a swing lid version and on jumping onto the top, Spike promptly fell straight in! After much scrabbling & hysteria, he got out again but I now knew this model was not practical for us & had to go out and get another flat lid one.

And this brings me on to my most recent "pandering" purchase - a laundry basket. Two of our boys, Jacob and Oscar, do not get on. Jake was here first but is a neurotic black half-siamese boy who would not say boo to a goose. Oscar on the other hand is a robust confident ginger lad with the heaviest foot fall I have ever heard; you will always hear Oscar before you see him. The tension between these two makes life difficult at home sometimes and Jake retreats to the bathroom where he sits on the laundry basket. Over the years the basket has had a lot of use and it had become rickety so I look the lid off, forgetting that Jake liked to hide there. Yesterday I made it my mission to purchase a new one. My two criteria points were one, it needed to fit into the small corner of our bathroom near the sink and two, it must have a good lid for Jake to sit on. Luckily the first shop that I went into had a great selection and a lovely bamboo curved basket left the shop with me. As I got into the car, I had a thought. "That lid looks rather hard for a cat to sleep on" so I suddenly found myself in the shop next door looking through their pet beds. One giraffe-skin patterned bed later I rushed home with my goodies and took them into the bathroom. The bin fit perfectly and after laying the bed on the top, I watched a certain black cat's reaction. He got straight onto the top, turning around & around as he acclimatised himself then he turned and looked at me with his eyes slanted and appeared to be almost smiling. At this point a loud purring noise ensued and I knew he was happy.

All the money in the world could not pay for these precious moments (though on this occasion £24.98 did!!).

Kleptomania - the 2014 update.....

Last year I blogged a detailed report of the fact that little Lunar was bringing home priceless treasures for us.....


This year we have now discovered that she is not the only "magpie" in the house. We think that Oscar has been liaising with the local postman as the onslaught of elastic bands is never-ending... that in itself is not a problem as long as he doesn't eat them (which is never guaranteed!). And Wednesday's penchant seems to be worms - mostly alive so we manage to add them back to the eco-system without too much trauma.


The reason for my entry though? Rubber gloves..... blue ones to be precise. Two weeks ago, Lunar brought home a blue rubber washing up glove. Not the weirdest item ever brought home, but obviously taken from someone's house due to it's pristine condition. In itself, an unremarkable feat that several of my cats would be capable of. What makes this so remarkable is that Wednesday brought home the MATCHING glove during the afternoon. Two separate cats, that seemed to know these items belonged together and brought them home as gifts for their mum.


I dare any person to challenge me & say that cats are not clever....... if you do, I will scratch your eyes out and piss in your shoes. Meow!!!!!

The additional Terrible Twosome

It's been a while since the blog got an update but due to recent events I decided it warranted starting up again. Up until now, I have only reported on the quirks & foibles of my 8 cats, lovingly referred to as The Effervescent Eight but for the last 7 months I have worked at Sherrington House Residential Home and I inherited 2 temporary extras (well, 3 including the lovely Millie).


I just knew that Sherrington House and I would travel the same path for a short while at least. When I went for my initial interview there in July 2013, a handsome black & white cat met me on the doorstep. I discovered that his name was Fluffy and he was one of 2 residential cats, the other being Thomas. On 12 August 2013 I started as Home Administrator and quickly both the cats and staff realised that I was the original crazy cat lady. Once this fact became apparent, the daily "routine" started. The "boys" are 13-year old brothers & chalk and cheese does not even scratch the surface; Fluffy is a long-haired black & white chunky boy with (what my vet described as) "the largest feet I have ever seen". They are massive, like coasters that you would put on your coffee table. He is skittish & excitable but very loving. Thomas on the other hand is ginger & VERY laid back. Nothing phases him, not even the housekeeping staff hovering around his feet and if he was any more laid back he would be comatose. When I started at the home several people had told me that these two cats did not get on & fought at every opportunity. With my many years knowledge of cats & their behaviour, I was keen to prove them wrong.


Within the first week it became apparent that a supply of goodies need to be at hand, otherwise the chance of getting any work done was minimal. They would stroll, nay rush headlong, into my office demanding meaty niceties so that they could leave again, happy in the knowledge that if they came back an hour later, further tongue-tingling items would be made available, If the required munchies where not forthcoming, then both moggies would proceed to jump onto my desk, either laying provocatively on the keyboard & playing with the mouse or extending their furry bodies over the paperwork that I needed to deal with that morning. This proved both distracting & not time-effective so a solution had to be found & quickly. Cats are like small children, they like routine, and this was something that I could put into place quite quickly. Both boys are fed by the housekeeping staff at 8.00am every morning but they soon worked out that if they ate their breakfast then sat in the lobby, "Auntie Jayne" came in at 9.00am with further items that would fill a furry belly. The daily scenario became thus - I would arrive at 9.00am and either one or both lads would be waiting either at the front door or just inside the lobby. Norris, one of the residents, always commented that they had been waiting for me for approximately an hour and they would then proceed to trot along the corridor after me; I could quite easily have been described as The Pied Piper of Sherrington but without the penny whistle. They would then fawn around my feet, insisting that I get the door unlocked as soon as possible so that they could enter. I then had to produce 2 clean bowls from my carrier bag, along with a sachet of whatever was cheapest that week (well, I do have 8 of my own to feed!). Fluff & Tom did not care; it was the ritual that they loved, the fact that they had 5 minutes of my time, in my office, to eat uninterrupted and feel safe and satisfied. When finished, they would saunter away to visit residents in their rooms, or go hunt outside but our morning routine was precious to all 3 of us. Periodically during the day they would pop back and ask me for further treats, in the form of Dreamies, and Fluffy would sometime come in mid-afternoon and sleep on a cat bed secreted under my desk for anyone that needed 5 minutes peace from the hub bub.


Last Friday I left Sherrington House for pastures new - I miss the boys with all my heart and they will always have honorary status in my heart as part of The Effervescent Eight.


For Thomas & Fluffy x