Jellicoe gives Gilbert a good wash
I think, in fact I'm sure, that Roxy and Gilbert enjoy Jellicoe and Herschel's attentions. The cats concentrate on the dogs' faces, especially their eyes and ears.Ears can be quite ticklish but the cats, though thorough, are careful.
Gilbert the Good – in good faith
Well, the first shock of my 1st birthday was that I wasn’t given my breakfast! To be fair, Roxy didn’t have any, either. That was alright, though, because I knew I would be going out soon.
I trotted off happily enough to the vets. They were very pleased to see me. I mean, I don’t want to be immodest, but they’re always delighted when I appear, and it’s mutual.
I knew I was staying there for the day but I couldn’t tell you what happened because I seemed to be asleep for most of it. When I woke up I had a little snack but my paws weren’t working properly and I was still a bit wobbly when Barry came to take me home.
My tummy and tail end both felt a bit very
sore but I couldn’t investigate because I was wearing a peculiar garment, an
all-in-one affair that felt really odd. Barry calls it my leotard and Janice
says it’s a babygro. I think puppygro would be a more fitting name. I look
quite smart in it, I must say.
I was told I had
to ‘rest and recuperate’ whatever that means. It seems to mean that I mustn’t
jump about and if I do I have to go into my prison crate – so boring.
Janice gives me a biscuit to make persuade me to go in it. Sometimes
Usually I know what she’s up to and wriggle round to lie on her feet. That way,
she can’t move!
Every time I want to go out, the body suit has to be undone and pulled over my back and tucked in so that I don‘t pee on it. I still don’t know what happened to my tummy and tail end but they aren’t so sore now. I had to go back to the vets to be ‘checked’. I wondered if I would come out of there with little squares of colour all over me, but I didn’t.
Then I had to go back to the vets AGAIN for another check and this time I came home with some antibiotics because one of the wounds (What?? ONE of the wounds? How many were there?) was looking a bit inflamed (Really? Flames coming out of me?)
Roxy went to see them a few days ago. They said she’s got some lumps. It’s quite usual for older dogs to get lumpy. They stuck a needle in her and took 'stuff' out of one of them to ‘send off’. (Why do humans like sticking needles in us? Poor Jellicoe gets them stuck in him all the time.)
Janice has hauled my puppygro off me twice now to wash it. It does feel nice to have clean clothes – but much nicer to go without.
TTFN
Gilbert
Silence
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Quakers, or the Religious Society of Friends, gather for worship in a very different way to most religions. There are no hymns or prayers, no sermons or sacraments, just a group of people who meet for about an hour and sit in silence facing each other, perhaps in a circle. The meeting begins as soon as one person enters the Meeting Room to sit and ends when two Quakers, usually elders, shake hands.
Quakerism is a way of life, not a set of beliefs. The enduring, overriding conviction is that ‘there is that of God in everyone’. Now, people may speak more of Spirit or Light – there is no definition of God.
As people sit together in silence a person may be moved to speak and the subject matter may be anything that a speaker feels it is important to share. The purpose is to consider what has been said, not to start a debate.
Our youngest daughter attended a Quaker school from the age of 11 to 18. Pupils and teachers alike addressed each other by their first names. The ethos of the school was honesty, equality and respect. The intention was to allow each individual to develop his or her own character and strengths.
Part of the daily curriculum was Collect, the equivalent of assembly for worship in other schools, a requirement in all UK schools. Sometimes a teacher or a student would feel the need to speak. One boy spoke in Collect to say that he was gay. Others might confess to feelings of fear or despair. Every Collect had a period of silence, of reflection.
Periodically, Sunday evening Collect was an opportunity for parents to join the school community. Normally, an invited speaker addressed the school – it might be a diplomat, a senior military officer, a journalist or other interesting person of note. The addresses were thought-provoking and always followed by the silence, a period of about ten minutes when no-one moved or spoke.
To sit in absolute silence for a period of time in a large congregation was not easy. Gradually, the silence deepened and the mind stilled. When it ended, at a signal from the senior teacher present, there was a sense of release and renewal.
Our daughter was a quiet, thoughtful child and the school allowed her to grow at her own pace into a patient, confident and compassionate adult. She may have developed in that way, anyway – her siblings have – but as the youngest, with a considerable age gap between her and them, a Quaker education was invaluable in encouraging her to find her own voice in the family.
Traditional pursuits in November – part 3
All images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
On Armistice Day, now usually called Remembrance Day, a two-minute silence is observed at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month to commemorate the ending of the First World War. The Armistice, which is Latin for ‘to stand or still arms’, was signed at 05:45 on 11th November, 1918, between the Allies and Germany as a preface to peace negotiations. The principals met in a railway carriage serving as the headquarters of the Supreme Allied Commander, Field Marshal Foch, in a secret location in the Forest of Compiègne, Picardy. The guns fell silent at 11:00.
The silence on Armistice Day was suggested to King George V who wrote a press statement on 7th November, 1919. It was published in The Times.
To all my people,
Tuesday next, 11 November, is the first anniversary of the armistice, which stayed the world-wide carnage of the four preceding years, and marked the victory of right and freedom.
I believe that my people in every part of the Empire fervently wish to perpetuate the memory of that great deliverance and of those who laid down their lives to achieve it.
To afford an opportunity for the universal expression of this feeling it is my desire and hope that at the hour when the Armistice came into force, the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, there may be for the brief space of two minutes a complete suspension of all our normal activities.
During that time, except in the rare cases where this may be impracticable, all work, all sound, and all locomotion should cease, so that, in perfect stillness, the thoughts of everyone may be concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead.
No elaborate organisation appears to be necessary.
At a given signal, which could easily be arranged to suit the circumstances of each locality, I believe that we shall all gladly interrupt our business and pleasure, whatever it may be, and unite in this simple service of silence and remembrance.
GEORGE R.I.
Thereafter, the silence has been observed annually throughout the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth. It is a poignant moment when the world stills, wherever practicable, in schools, supermarkets, radio, television, businesses large and small. I read once, but cannot find it now, that the first minute of the silence was to commemorate those who had died, and the second was to remember those who were left behind to carry on, the wounded, the widows, the families.
Remembrance Sunday is always held on the second Sunday in November in many and varied locations. Some gatherings are large, others small, but they follow the same format and all are impressive. In Whitehall in London, the Cenotaph, a war memorial designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens, is the place where the National Service of Remembrance is held. The service honours those men and women of Britain and the Commonwealth, both civilian and military, who were involved in so many capacities in two World Wars and other conflicts.
The contrast between the youngest and oldest is striking – a reminder, if ever one were needed, of the loss that war brings.
Traditional pursuits in November – part 2
Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
London has two mayors. The Mayor of London is responsible for the government of Greater London and is elected by Londoners. The Mayor of London may serve a maximum of two four-year terms. It is a position that was created in 2000 by the last Labour government and is political in character. The Mayor of London is responsible for improving London’s environment, ensuring among other things, that transport is efficient, helping the city’s businesses to thrive, attempting to provide sufficient and affordable housing.
It is a role completely separate to that of the Lord Mayor.
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The Lord Mayor’s Show is held on the second Saturday in November every year. It dates from 1215 and is the oldest civic procession in the world, only being cancelled in the event of national disaster or disruption, like the 1665 Great Plague, the Reform Bill riots of 1830 and the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020.
This year it falls on 11th November, Remembrance Day. It is customary for a two-minute silence to be observed at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the time at which the Armistice was signed in 1918.
It is a poignant moment when everything ceases for that two-minute period, in supermarkets, in educational establishments, the BBC, wherever it is practicable so to do. It will be observed prior to the commencement of the procession.
A new Lord Mayor is elected every year and the office reflects his position as the civic leader of the City of London, an area also known as the Square Mile. The Square Mile is London’s main financial centre.
He is voted in by the liverymen belonging to the Great Twelve Livery Companies - the Mercers, Grocers, Drapers, Fishmongers, Goldsmiths, Merchant Taylors, Skinners, Haberdashers, Salters, Ironmongers, Vintners and Clothworkers - and other livery companies, such as the Worshipful Company of Basketmakers, participate by invitation.
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The Lord Mayor’s Show focuses on a grand street procession, involving mediaeval pageantry and carnival. Participants include representatives of the armed forces, charities, youth movements, businesses and Londoners from various communities. It is a colourful, entertaining celebration culminating in a grand fireworks display.
Pumpkin Mice Tales (2)
It was a great honour to be chosen to represent his regiment and Sergeant Cheeseman had invited the Pumpkin Mice to attend the service.
They squeaked and shivered at the thought of journeying to the churchyard. It wasn’t so very far away but it was hazardous to travel in daylight and they knew the dangers of going at night, but they really wanted to be there.
Little Grey Mouse said, ‘It’s dangerous in the dark.’
White Mouse with the exceedingly long and beautiful green tail said, ‘Just the other evening, after dark had fallen, I heard a terrible wailing.’
Small Brown Mouse whispered, ‘Maybe the Cunning Cat caught someone. Ooh, I’m scared.’
Big Brown Mouse said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,’ and the Mousekins huddled together and didn’t feel quite so afraid any more.
The next night, when the black sky was as black as black could be, they scurried down from their tall tower and, each holding the tail of the mouse in front, they followed Big Brown Mouse through the fallen leaves and the damp grass.
It took a long time to reach the church. They had to stop many times and hide among tree roots when an owl glided above or a fox trotted past. The foxes in these parts were fat and healthy and had no desire for little mice, not even as a midnight snack, but the Pumpkin Mice were cautious folk and took no chances.
They tumbled into a hole under the doorstep of the church and fell into a deep slumber. The bright sun woke them in the morning and they poked their small noses out and sniffed the fresh autumn air, whiskers quivering.
White Mouse with the exceedingly long and beautiful green tail said, ‘Look! Look! I can see Sergeant Cheeseman’ and sure enough, there he stood, resplendent in his scarlet tunic, medals gleaming, moleskin hat set at just the right jaunty angle.
Suddenly they heard the ‘oom pah pah’ of a military band and a parade of human soldiers marched up the path to the big stone cross and halted. The Pumpkin Mice were awed at the sight. More people followed, big and small, in all sorts of different uniforms, and stood tidily near the big stone cross, waiting.
The vicar came out of the church with the choir and spoke to them all and then everyone sang a hymn.
Small Brown tugged at Big Brown Mouse’s tail and piped, ‘Why is it called a him and not a her?’ but Big Brown Mouse hushed him because something else was happening. People with wreaths of poppies, shining bright against the green leaves, moved forward and, one by one, placed them gently at the foot of the big stone cross, then stepped back and bowed their heads.
A soldier with a bugle played a haunting tune and Big Brown Mouse whispered to the Mousekins that it was called ‘Last Post‘. Everyone stood absolutely still. Old men and young straightened their backs as if standing to attention, and looked ahead, unmoving. Even the smallest children were caught up in the solemnity of the moment. A soft breeze riffled the remaining leaves on the trees and a robin sang sweetly in the following silence.
The Mousekins had never seen anything like it before and wondered if it would ever end. Then the vicar said a few more words and everybody answered him with, ‘We will remember them.’ The bugler played another tune and Big Brown Mouse told the Mousekins it was called ‘The Rouse’. It was a happier sounding tune and everyone relaxed, as though they had all heaved one big sigh.
Sergeant Cheeseman came over to the Mousekins. ‘Thank you so much for coming,’ he said. ‘It’s important to remember.’
Big Brown Mouse said, ‘We shall never forget.’ Then, taking the tail of the smallest Mousekin, he led them all back to the safety of the tall tower.
Online shopping
Yesterday, my food order arrived at the appointed hour but as we chatted while the driver unloaded the bags from the crates, I noticed large bottles of water in one of the bags. I pointed out that I hadn’t ordered them. The driver was most apologetic although it wasn’t his fault. Then I spotted another bag containing something else I hadn’t ordered. More apologies were forthcoming. Poor man – perhaps some customers are unreasonable and unpleasant when such things happen and he had borne the brunt of their displeasure in the past.
Unpacking the bags in the kitchen I discovered more things I had not ordered. As the delivery van had long departed I ‘phoned the supermarket help line. The young man checked that I hadn’t been charged for them, which struck me as illogical since I hadn’t ordered them in the first place. Then he said that I could keep the unordered items. There were five packs of Thai green curry, retail price £18.75 in total. I passed them on to my daughter who normally makes this curry from scratch but the packets will sit in her store cupboard ‘for a rainy day.’ The two boxes of Balsam tissues I kept. They were £5.00. So the supermarket was willing to allow me to keep goods to the value of £23.75. That’s very generous and presumably means their profit margins are healthy, as I'm sure I'm not the only customer in the country who receives unexpected groceries. I suppose it's more cost effective to 'write off' such items rather than sending someone to collect and redistribute them!
I feel sorry for the person who will be missing these items in their shopping this week. I’m sure an apology will be forthcoming and perhaps a complimentary gift for the inconvenience.
Recently there were two frozen pizzas I had not ordered in a delivery. I spotted them as I was unpacking at the door – no bags from that supermarket – so the driver was able to take them back immediately. I joked at the time that I should have kept quiet about them.
Online shopping is very convenient provided everything ordered is in stock. Occasionally there are really bizarre substitutions – lemon washing-up liquid instead of lemons, for example – but generally I am happier to have the shopping delivered than to trawl the shops for myself.
Ocicats
Just in case anyone is interested and because our cats have featured in blog posts recently, I thought I’d tell you a little more about our Ocicats. Yes, they’re ‘posh’ cats, that is, purebred. The reason for having purebreds as opposed to moggies is that we thought it would be easier for them to be house cats, that is, cats that don’t have unlimited freedom. There are nasty people around who do unpleasant things to cats. A few years ago we enclosed (cat-proofed) the garden so that they could explore the great outdoors in safety. There is plenty of interest in the garden and they can and do exercise their hunting skills.
We fell upon Ocicats quite by accident, their spotted, striped coats unusual in our experience. People often mistake them for Bengal cats but they have no wild cat blood in them. The Ocicat is a 'man-made' breed, the result of an American breeder, Virginia Daly from Michigan, trying to create an Abyssinian-pointed Siamese by mating an Abyssinian with a Siamese. The first litter looked entirely Abyssinian but the second cross produced Abyssinian-pointed kittens and one spotted kitten. The breeder’s daughter remarked that the spotted kitten looked like an Ocelot and called him an Ocicat. He was neutered but subsequent litters, breeding Siamese to Abyssinian and then mating their offspring back to Siamese, produced more spotted kittens.
A litter of Ocicat kittens can contain kittens that look like Abyssinian cats, which are referred to as 'mountain lions', the expected spotted striped kittens and those with a classic tabby marking, which used to be called Ocicat Classics. The classic Ocicats have been carefully bred to form a sister breed, now known as Aztecs, which strikes me as a really odd name.
Ocicats are strong athletic cats and are heavier than they look. Our Ocicats have greenish-yellow eyes but I have seen cats with striking orange eyes. They are very dog-like in their interaction with humans and are extremely affectionate.
We have had five Ocicats. Our first, Winston, was chocolate and as soft as butter. We were so delighted with Winston that we got our second Ocicat a week later. Monty was chocolate silver in colour but his heart was weak. Medication to help his heart damaged his kidneys and vice versa so we had to let him go when he was three years old. There was nothing more to be done for him.
Three years later, Winston died very suddenly and unexpectedly in the animal hospital from a respiratory illness.
After that we decided we couldn’t ever have another cat until the day, about two years later, when a mouse ran over my foot upstairs. Thus we acquired three litter brothers, Herschel, who is cinnamon silver, Isambard, a tawny Ocicat, and Jellicoe, a black silver Classic (tabby) cat.
Isambard was such a sweet, gentle boy but he died when he was almost seven from a respiratory illness he may well have caught from my husband. Barry was quite ill with something very similar to Covid a couple of months before Covid had officially appeared on these shores. Isambard spent much time snuggled up with Barry and became very ill. He died in the animal hospital, unexpectedly, shocking our vets who had expected him to recover. Cats are so delicate.
Jellicoe was also ill, but recovered.
People often ask why we don’t have rescue cats. Simply, rescue organisations don’t like cats being confined to home and not allowed to wander freely leading a normal feline life. The trouble is that free-ranging cats often fall prey to wicked people who find it amusing to paint them with house paint, crop their ears and tails, use them as target practice or as bait for dogs. Even without such people, cars and motor-bikes are a hazard. Some cats seem to be more street wise than others but, from personal experience, it is heart-breaking to lose a cat to a car or simply for it to disappear, its fate forever unknown.
I think attitudes are slowly changing and I see and hear of more non-purebreds being raised and loved as house cats. Indeed, one of my grandsons has two moggy house cats. There will always be those who do not agree, my son and one daughter included. but we respect their views and know they understand ours.
As you might imagine,
there are a number of blog posts featuring our cats. Searching their names will
bring up more than you probably would ever want to read.
Jellicoe
Jellicoe has a new place to rest and relax, freeing my lap most of the time, until meal-time is near. Then he sits very close to me . . . or on me.
He’s a
brave little soldier, enjoying the bribes treats he’s given before and
after the ordeal procedure. He has earnt his place by the fire, warming
his back.
I can’t
stand the thought of don’t relish am scared stiff apprehensive
about testing him at two-hourly intervals, which will have to be done in the course of one day in a
couple of weeks. Barry is confident, but I reckon that’s all top show. Under
the valiant exterior, he’s quaking fearful anxious too, I know
suspect.
Roxy
When dogs have a disagreement another dog will often intervene, placing itself between the two opponents. This seems to calm them and everyone can relax.
Our cats argue, squabble, bat each other and sometimes one of the dogs will step between them to take the heat out of the moment.
In the photo(s) above Roxy is acting as a buffer between the brothers.
Herschel had first claim on Roxy. She’s big and warm and he likes to snuggle up to her. Jellicoe also likes to sleep close to Roxy, so they each claimed one side of her and so long as there was no eye contact peace held sway.
How about this one?
The cats also like to groom the dogs, with mutual satisfaction. Roxy needs to look her best as she will be visiting the vets on Thursday for a check-up. She will have a pedicure (!) while she’s there. I used to clip the dogs’ claws but caught the quick on Dominie once. Roxy has dark claws so it’s very difficult to see where the quick is and I don’t want to risk hurting her.
The wart on her face has grown very quickly since we first noticed it a year ago. It will be assessed and I suspect the vets may recommend removing it. It doesn’t bother her – she doesn’t scratch it or seem to be otherwise aware of it. How could she be? She’s not a vain dog and doesn’t look in the mirror every five minutes.😉
Before that, Gilbert has to go and see the vets again on Monday, just to check that all is well. I’m sure he’d like to tell you all about that himself.
