Louisa Parry » felines

Carla cat in the sunshine

louisa — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 14:49:29 +0000

Boron

louisa — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 13:14:55 +0000

Carla cat

louisa — Mon, 16 May 2011 15:34:51 +0000

Just found this photo of Carla on the camera card. I think it was taken last month when the world was sunny and lime green. She’s on the fence between our house and next door. She is a very beautiful old lady, isn’t she?

Boron in the sunshine

louisa — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 13:45:39 +0000

Insert pussy-on-webcam joke here

louisa — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 11:22:31 +0000

louisa_

Boron has been sat between me and my laptop for about 20 minutes now, letting me kiss him while I type. http://twitpic.com/2yp9vq

Apparently I only use my webcam for pictures of me with the cats.

Me & Carla in March:

Me and Boron in May:

Me and Boron in July:

Me and Carla in July:

Me and Carla in October:

Then today – me and B:

Boron

louisa — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 21:11:42 +0000

Boron is asleep in between us, a light absorbing blur. I put my hand down to stroke his chest and he starts to purr. His head stretches back to maximise the stroking area and hanging above, his paws are floppy and soft, the claws so completely retracted that it makes it hard to believe they’re there.

Ten years ago, Boron bit my finger through to the bone. He was a stray then, a proper straggly semi-feral stray. It took months of building up his confidence before he’d approach us, months more before he dared to stay the night. He thought I was taking food from him – from him, the starving stray – when he bit me: I was taking a wooden skewer from him, a vaguely meaty skewer from a long-eaten cumberland sausage. I screamed, as you do, when his fang pierced my skin but I think he knew I wasn’t screaming at him. He jumped back about a foot but only a foot, and looked at me with a quizzical stare. Was I going to lash out at him? Would I cave and give him back the splintering stick? I didn’t want to undo our hard work socialising him so wrapping a piece of kitchen roll around my finger and wincing at the pain, I bent down and stroked him. He didn’t shy away so I found him a treat, and only when the bite and the scream was forgotten, did I leave him to tend to my deep wound.

For a couple of years, he maintained his hardman image. He was still the tough tom of the neighbourhood even when he came back from the vets lacking certain things. He would sleep on the bed and let you stroke him – but only when he wanted it, and if you continued for too long, he’d turn in swipe you, claws out, in the face. He was not a pussy, a’ight?

On Good Friday 2002, he disappeared. We will never know what happened. It was the day D moved out and someone across the street was moving. In all the commotion, I didn’t realise he was missing until late the next day – overnight excursions were not uncommon then but he’d never been gone that long. I spent two days walking around the woods calling for him. I told myself he’d gone away to die – he’d been happy with us, he’d had a good retirement, but he resorted to old habits when his time came. I was sad but happy I’d given him those good years. Six weeks later, I got back from a late night out, after 2am on a school night, and there he was in the living room with his favourite girl, Sili. He was skinny, skinnier than he’d been when he moved in, but it was most definitely him. He asked for a cuddle, he asked for a headrub, he asked for some food and I provided all three.

Most nights, except from the recent sticky ones, he sleeps between us for at least some portion of the night. He’s worked out that is the warmest spot in the bed – under the duvet, my arm over him then over John. If I’m facing the other way, he sometimes gives up the John-warmth (a mighty warmth) in favour of the better hugs. Other times, he snuggles between our two backs.

More than any cat I’ve ever lived with, Boron is a blinker. Because we spend so much time with them, all our cats are/have been pretty vocal but alongside his chirps and mews, Boron blinks. If we blink at him, he’ll blink heavily in return. Sometimes he initiates it – we catch his eye and he’ll blink slowly and deliberately at us. He’s had a lot of key teeth removed as he’s got older, leaving him with hilarious gurning smiles – but while his mouth is goofy, his slowly closing eyes send messages of love.

Not at all alone with the moon – a day of company

louisa — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 21:00:04 +0000

1. All of Team Peach is on the bed when we wake up and we sing the ‘Team Peach on the Bed’ song. (“Team Peach on the bed, fa la la la la. Carla on the bed, La la la la la. Boron on the bed, Bee bee bee bee bee. Lily on the bed, Lil alil lil lil. Team Peach on the Bed, Carla, Bee and Lil.” Yes.)

2. We cook together for the second night in a row – last night working together filling skewers then bbqing them, today working side by side on our own mammoth creations. Cooking is usually a solitary activity, it’s nice to have company for a change.

3. He washes, I dry and we both sing along to the music.

3BT – maybe one day they won’t all be about animals…

louisa — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 22:00:50 +0000

1. We hug and feel paws stretching out against our waists, the hound trying to join in.

2. We go into the hills to the south, following the tributaries leading from our beck. One stream opens out into a quagmire and John stomps up it, the proud owner of wellies for the first time in nearly two decades. Lily – who is now allowed off lead in the woods and runs at top speed EVERYWHERE – creates muddy waves as she bounds back towards from her distant travels and we take that as cue to return to dry land.

3. Bums touch as they curl up next to me on the sofa.

4. The dog likes on her back, feet twitching in dreams, as the intruder (John) enters the house. She wakes – finally – when he calls her (“Crap guard dog! Crap guard dog, where are you?”) and runs at him, ball in mouth, ready to play.

The hierarchy of the Peach household, according to Lily

louisa — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 11:23:54 +0000

From top dog/alpha male/pack leader down to general dogsbody.

Boron
John
Carla
Lily
Me

3BT – thump thump thump, purr, not lost

louisa — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 21:00:32 +0000

1. The rhythm of our life has changed – we’re getting up earlier, going to bed earlier and exercising far more – and it’s got its own percussive beat too: the thump thump thump of Lily’s happy tail banging against everything.

2. Carla knows the dog is there – she’s seen her, she’s definitely seen her – but the strip of sun across the living room floor is too inviting. She stretches out and rolls around, her belly warm and red in the light. I can hear her purring across the room.

3. The relief when I see my keys locked in the porch – much better there than lost on our walk.