I was going to moan but here's some kittens

I realise that I have not introduced two new characters in our lives this comes as I was going to tell you about my highly medical related week.

Max

Max loves Jasper

 We have Max nominally TS's Christmas present from my Mum and Brother. He is a norwegian forest cat on his mother's side and a black and white moggie on his dad's. He has inherited mum's shape but has his own unique just a bit longer than short incredible silky coat which is black and white but with grey tabby markings in the black. This was a more than generous present on my brother's behalf as he doesn't really "get" cats. In the way of cats Max "gets" this and delights in using my brother as a climbing frame he also loves to hang out with my brother's dog Jasper. Well every cool dude needs a big daft mate.

Dora

Dora my birthday and Christmas pressie from TS and my brother is a british shorthair she is supposed to be growing into an Isadora but somehow it turned into Dizzy Dora and she now prefers to be called Dizz. She's the one who gets away with murder thanks to those big kitten eyes.I've even heard my brother saying "hello little girl" when he thinks no-ones listening. We are all her willing slaves we know we are being manipulated but we can't help ourselves she's just so sweet!

So how did you get up there then?

So I now feel I've gone on a bit and I've quite lost the thread on all the medical stuff. Never mind have a quite unseasonal picture of the kittens at Christmas

Oscar and MISI

Oscar comes to us for his holidays or along for the ride when Oscar Mum and Oscar Dad come visiting. You should never judge a book by it's cover nor an Oscar Cat by his appearance. Inside there is the sweetest little fellow who does nothing more terrible than swear at birds through the window or tease the dogs with a flick of his tail across the nose.

He has that certain something and I had to have a go at making an Oscar so I drew him on a piece of copper then cut out something that barely followed my drawing,  since for some reason stuff looks different as you cut it out to when it's lines, or maybe I shouldn't of bought my glasses online from Hong Kong. Anyway enamelled him white, painted on his eyes with orange and black and was really rather pleased with him and myself. Oscar Mum liked the pressie too. So I have picked Oscar Dude as the first thing to go in my MISI shop. It's a shame really that my photos are quite dire but I am sure I will get better.

I was going to list several things but do you know it is all quite draining what with the fifty zillion pictures that are all rubbish even with the cropping and adjusting and the flash on and the flash off and the flash on auto and the light on and the light off and the lamp on and the lamp off and near the window and away from the window. Have you tried taking a picture of a brooch on a jacket you are wearing in a mirror without showing the camera and your double chins and the rather fetching cold sores that have appeared to get in on the act. Not to mention the uploading and writing descriptions and deciding how much to charge and feeling a bit cheeky really for selling stuff you've made even though your jewellery teacher says that she will pay real money for one. Do you know I started this yesterday tea time and now it's two o'clock the following afternoon? And me with the cold/flu and stuff and TS off at the University telling people that they too can be mature students and do degrees. I may have to go lie down.

A lazy excuse for a post

Sunday

What's a cat to do?

A spot of fishing

or just sitting on a pole


take a nap in the back seat of the car with the dog

or just have a lie in

Moving House is Such Hard Work

My family and other people's animals

The Breezy Household has upped sticks and moved a couple of kilometres up the road to house sit for a friend who is currently somewhere between here and Scotland with five horses, four cats and two dogs. I racked my brains for something she had three of but couldn’t come up with anything. Sorry.

She has got three sheep but they are still here waiting for their new owner to pick them up. We don’t really have a clue about sheep but we are armed with a telephone number of someone who does. Anyway they don’t look too fragile. In fact they are the sturdiest sheep I’ve ever seen. They seem happy enough with a bit of fresh bedding and water and are just getting on with doing sheep stuff round the back.

We seem to have inherited Stan the cockerel and Mrs Stan who in keeping with the Dinnerladies theme is now Petula Gordino. She is keeping her distance from the Dinnerladies and roosts in one of the barns. Stan obviously has an eye for quantity over quality and roosts with our girls but goes running off every morning as soon as we let him out to search for his free spirited wife. I was entertaining thoughts of Warren x Maran chicks running around the place but judging by Stan’s behaviour I think not. He’s very good at the virile poses and the cock-a-doodle-doing but that’s as far as it goes. His love for the Dinnerladies and Petula is a pure courtly kind of love. He’ll defend them from the kittens to the death but there won’t be any of the other kind of nonsense thank you very much.

Eddie and Ernie are having the time of their lives stalking the Dinnerladies and being chased by Stan, playing at jungle warfare in the valerian, climbing trees and exploring the dark depths of the yew hedge. We no longer hear the thunder of tiny kitten feet while we are trying to get to sleep at night just have two exhausted little bundles curled up on the bed.

Now that Sissy is convinced that the two dogs, four cats, five horses are no longer about she has stopped going to sit in the car and is happily ambling around the place. The sheep are a bit scary though so she never ventures round the back of the house unaccompanied.

TS is off somewhere with a bill hook hacking through brambles exploring and looking for evidence of the fish farm that was once supposed to be here.
I’m missing my garden, especially since my replacement fork from Spear and Jackson was delivered yesterday. Still it’s only down the road. Failing that there is fifty acres to go at here.

Are You My Mummy?

Eddie has finally achieved his ambition of snuggling up with Sissy.

Ever since he arrived he has been trying to get close to her a prospect that has until now filled her with horror.

He jumps on the sofa, so she goes to lie on he floor, he follows her down to the floor so she gets on a chair, he jumps on the chair so she goes upstairs.

Everywhere she tries to get a bit of rest he appears.

Dr Who fans will recognise the title. For those of you not familiar well thank goodness for You Tube



Ernie in the mean time has got his own issues with the water dish.

He sticks his paw in the water and the bloody stuff makes him wet, so he hits it, so it makes him wetter, hits it harder and faster and gets wetter still. He's tried approaching it from every angle with the same result. It's always alert for sneak attacks and always gets him back.

More kitten stuff

Sorry but you have to hear more about Eddie and Ernie.

They are completely different in looks and personality.

Ernie (ginger) looks at least a week bigger than Eddie and is bold and easy going. He purrs all the time and jumps up and down on Eddie a lot (well what else are smaller siblings for?)



Eddie squeals over the slightest thing, Ernie jumping up and down on him, being picked up when he wants to be on the floor, being on the floor when he wants to be picked up.















You would think his big brother was bullying him but come dinner time it's Eddie who drives Ernie off the food. No surprise then that Eddie was the first kitten to manage to climb onto the dining table.

Mostly though they are either testing everything they can get their paws on to destruction or snuggled up together asleep.

TS finds them particularly helpful when he is getting ready for work.

Eric & Ernie ....and Eddie

We used to have a ginger and white cat called Eric. He was a one off was Eric. He took everything in his stride. A car journey? He would sit on your knee looking out of the window. A trip to the vets? within seconds of being taken out of his basket he would be rolling on his back for his tummy tickling. A strange dog barking at him? No no back arching and spitting just a cool stare and then a good talking to. Oh he never shut up he gave everyone a running commentry on his life and as he got older he would even wander round muttering to himself. Age didn't slow him down and when we tried to keep him in at night worried about his deafness and less than cat like sense of balance he pulled the cat flap clean off the door.

So all our resolutions of no more kittens went out of the window when we saw his double.

We sat last night trying to come up with a name there could never be another Eric but we wanted something connected. Then TS came up with Ernie. Perfect! A name forever linked with Eric at least for anyone British of our age and older. And his little stripey brother? Well he's Eddie just because he is.

Sissy is highly alarmed by the new additions and is staying out of reach on the sofa. She is such a wimp! But she likes cats and when they get past the "are they small or just far away?" spooky stage she'll enjoy their company.

More Christmas Stuff n Nonsense

Ha Hah ! Christmas is almost sorted.


The spooky pathetic lights are up on the tree outside and the holly and mistletoe and shiny things are up inside.


We have been invited out for Christmas Dinner so my proud record of only ever cooking one remains unbroken (even then I somehow managed to let the turkey go off and had to make an emergency dash to blag half of my Mum and Dad's).




Sissy is also invited out with us for lunch which means our hostess will be cooking and serving it not in her house but in their gite next door.

You see Sissy lives up to her name she is a dog who is scared of everything. The chickens, plastic bags, new blankets, the sweeping brush . . .

"Lurchers" someone once said to us "they chase and kill everything" Not Sissy. Sissy pretends she can't see things other dogs would chase, she suddenly finds a blade of grass unusually interesting while looking at the "prey" out of the corner of her eye. Once any danger of catching it is past she will spring into action and then look at us as if to say "damn if my attention hadn't been caught by that grass I would of had that!"

The last time we took Sissy with us their elderly cat chased her through the cat flap (it is quite a big one the cat flap not the cat) So dinner will be served next door to make sure Sissy isn't bullied by their cat.


As for Christmas just buying presents, sending cards and getting the vittles in then. Work of a moment! (I wish)

I'll see your dog on the roof and raise you a cat

So it's been over a week now and I have survived!

Mind you I have not used the chainsaw yet.

I have however climbed up ladders almost every day. Not because I am madly doing DIY or anything useful like that. Oh no. I am climbing up ladders propped against the same spot on the outside wall almost every day because Mimo insists on getting stuck on next doors barn roof. I am one woman cat rescue or complete sucker.

I'm beginning to go with the latter as the last couple of times she has jumped from the roof to the top of the ladder to my shoulder and looks suspiciously pleased with herself.

TS e mails leave her up there for a while but I daren't. You see I still don't have the chickens under control and it's only a short hop from the barn roof to the neighbour's bedroom window. Call me paranoid but first the Anglaise chickens trash the veg then the cat invades the bedroom things get difficult and before you know it it's pitchforks and flaming torches.

Until my daily ladder climbing started I never realised just how tricky they can be. My first couple of attempts at propping those ladders against the wall were frankly farcical and an excellent practical demonstration of the laws of physics as regards levers and centers of gravity. Anyone with a video camera could of earned themselves £250 on the spot. I am now adept at ladders. In fact I could join the fire brigade in their cat rescuing department.

Throughout all this cat and chicken nonsense the dog has been impeccable. She is now my favourite

Oil Yer Cat Missus

A cautionary tale.

Today TS decided to paint the metal plate at the base of the hearth (round the Rayburn that wasn't moving).

The kitten was playing outside. Now she has had all her jabs we've rigged up a plank so she can come and go from the kitchen window.

Our first mistake was not to lock her out of the way in the bedroom.

Our second mistake was not to lock her out of the way in the bedroom when she came to see what TS was doing.

Our third mistake was not to lock her out of the way in the bedroom when she came back for a second look having been pushed away.

Our fourth mistake was to make a grab for her when she decided to go tripping across the freshly painted hearth.

Mistakes one through four resulted in a kitten with green paint not just on her feet but all over her belly from when she crouched down.

Now mistake number five was to try soap and water. It didn't work and did nothing for kitten human relations.

It was time to appeal to a higher authority (thanks to whoever posted info on unpainting cats on t'internet)

This is the secret of unpainting a kitten

1) get sturdy garden gloves (wet from soap and water optional)
2) get bottle of sunflower (or other vegetable) oil
3 get kitten
4) apply oil to affected areas (your clothes, walls and ceiling optional)
5) rinse off oil and paint mixture with warm soapy water
6) rinse off soap
7) spend the rest of your life atoning

Chicken Run

"It's like this chicken I'm a predator and you're prey"

"Come on girls there's three of us"

"Ooooooh . . .














. . . sh******t"





















"So anyway I said come on you three chickens if it wasn't for this wire fence you'd be KFC"

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

Why was it we wanted any pets?

Just when you think you can put your feet up and relax. The dog who has been snacking on the contents of the litter tray pukes all over the cat. Deep joy.

Why was it we wanted a kitten?

My hands are decidely manky at the moment I look like I have some sort of weird skin condition. Can you guess who's responsible?

Not that cute itty bitty kitty? Who should be featuring on greetings cards and chocolate boxes surely not.

I've tried everything I can think of to impress upon her that throwing herself at me and biting as hard as she can while holding on with all her claws is not fun. She begs to differ. I don't know if this is because she's a feral kitten or she's just a little b******

I've tried stopping the game (bit tricky this when you didn't start it in the first place)

Putting her on the floor and shunning her.

Distracting her with toys

Making hissy spitty noises at her.

Holding her down by the scruff of her neck till she squeaks (it used to work for our cat Walter when we introduced pesky kittens into the household)

The latest is a squirty bottle of water. This at least has made a slight impression so I have had no fresh wounds for a day now. She bites gently and taps my fingers with claws in. Success? I don't know. She does it with one eye on the bottle and a look that says Mr Squirty won't always be here.

Petty revenge today. We took her to the vets for jabs.

She yowled and carried on all the way there. We warned the vet she can be a bit wild.


"Moi?" says Mimo gently patting the vet on the tip of her nose. "I'm just an ickle bitty chocolate box kitten"

And still it rains

Except it's not raining today at least not yet but it does look like rain.

Our friend Miranda was talking to a French farmer who says this weather is down to the moon and that it won't improve dramatically till after the 14th. So roll on the 14th - Bastille Day, fireworks and good weather.

It's all a bit disappointing in the garden at the moment but some stuff seems to be coping with the wet weather. The brussels sprouts, the red cabbage (we bought seedlings in of that just to add a bit of colour really), the french beans are still going strong as are the peas and the sweetcorn is still looking good.

I wish I'd planted more peas now as I didn't expect them to be quite so nice and we haven't really got enough plants in to get two portions of peas for a meal. We are having a tiny portion of peas and a huge portion of French beans. The long term stuff that takes up a lot of space like potatoes are definitely going in the Orchard next year to give us chance to try lots of variety and so get some insurance against the weather.


We have been consoling ourselves by retreating into science fiction watching Stargate DVDs every night. We had an all too brief interlude of Firefly (why did they axe that series?) and a couple of Dr Who's as well.

In between that we are rescuing Sissy from the kitten. That dog is such a wimp. Tasha has put paid to kitten pestering by a very serious snarl in the kitten's face. Sissy always moves away which gives the kitten a hugely inflated idea of just how tough she is leading to a swaggering kitten walk (think Ryker on Star Trek while we are on Sci Fi).

Finding Mimo

Busy doing nothing. One of my favourite songs and our theme tune for this week

Except TS has made these rather good shelves from some planks he found in the barn we are debating whether to paint them to match the rest of the kitchen or leave them woody. Inertia will probably win out.

But in general we haven't got much done. Today for example we spent two hours looking for the kitten. Downstairs calling Mimo Mimo, upstairs Mimo Mimo, in the attic, in the cellar, in the garden, in the barn (no she doesn't go out but we were getting desperate). No she wasn't in the basket all the time we looked in the baskets ten times at least. But she appeared from that general vicinity.

When we weren't looking for Mimo we were putting the chickens back in their run. Four times if it was once (eventually we just took them down to the woods and left them to it) or scraping the cremated remains of meringue off the bottom of the cooker.

The meringue seemed to be the ideal way to use up the five egg whites left from the creme patisserie that took five egg yolks and use up the left over creme patisserie. In fact to generally concoct something sweet and yummy. Instead I concocted a previously unknown substance that resists all attempts to remove it. The settings on the cooker are only notional it seems and the choice is actually gas mark blast furnace or gas mark inferno. Yes it is definitely the cookers fault the cook is blameless.

The oven has only just been put into commission, it needed the burner changing for LPG but we couldn't find the burner until we took the back off the cooker. It's taken two months for our desire for pizza to overwhelm our desire not to bugger about pulling the cooker out and taking it to bits. Then we couldn't find the replacement burner which we'd put somewhere safe. In a box. But where was the box? That was three hours searching then.

The box had been turned into kitten proofing blocking up a hole in the bathroom. So although we looked and looked it was no longer the box with the cooker bits in it was kitten proofing and we just didn't see it.

Oh and we're blighted our beautiful spuds blighted. This is what happens I guess when it's either raining buckets or 28 degrees and the veg growing advice is based on the UK weather and the gardener doesn't use her brains. So since they've all flowered I'll follow "The Vegetable Expert" advice and cut off the haulms, leave the spuds in the ground for 10 days and then dig them up. Unless anyone has a better idea.

Fairy Elephants

We've spent most of the day kitten proofing the house ie blocking up all the kitten sized holes in the floor so she doesn't fall into the cellar (she needs to paint a few fences before she's ready to take on those mice).

Tasha is still besotted and it still isn't mutual.

Given the freedom of the living room. Mo has mastered the running about like a fairy elephant (as my mother would say) so we can look forward to some sleepness nights listening to the thud of tiny kitten feet.

She has killed miscellaneous bits of fluff and invisible enemies and is now sleeping the sleep of the victorious under the sofa.

Don't you hate it when people go on about their babies.

Guilty Pleasures

Yesterday evening our friend Ian brought us this tiny kitten not knowing what had happened with Borg in the morning.

She had been seen with her mother at the house where he is working but then mum hadn't been around for a day.

The timing isn't great but there you are.

We have managed to get her eating at first from the end of a finger and now from a dish.

She has been to the vets today for de-worming and de-fleaing and has been pronounced a healthy six weekish tigre gris (grey tabby?).

TS is calling her Mo I'm calling her Mi-Mo. ( much as I admire Mo Mowlam I just can't see the resemblance. Although she is very fiesty).

Tasha wants her for her very own puppy despite the hissing and growling. Sissy thinks she's spooky "she's small but she's not far away!"

Flash Bang What a Picture

Oh I've started something now mentioning Carry On films he's turning the house even more upside down looking for his DVD of Carry On Up the Khyber. He'll be shouting "Strawberry Mousse" next.

Today started much earlier than we'd planned with a huge clap of thunder. Within moments we were joined in bed by a quivering dog and slightly later by a cat who was acting fairly nonchalant but thought he'd make sure we were OK.

Little Borg has perked up a lot so we tempted him out for a walk in the garden. The old beams at the side of the path are perfect when he wants to sharpen his claws, he huffs and puffs between each session like he's run a marathon though.

In between putting up the stud work for the walls upstairs (yes we now have a framework with doors in!) Tech Support finally got his scarce swallowtail on the rhododendron picture.

All in all a pretty good day but it looks like ending on the same note it began our canine thunder detector is looking decidedly nervous.