Day 238 – Hitchhiker in Mittens

Hitchiker in Mittens

Day 238

The Old Gumbie Cat by T. S. Eliot

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots.
All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat;
She sits and sits and sits and sits–and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
And when all the family’s in bed and asleep,
She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep.
She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice–
Their behaviour’s not good and their manners not nice;
So when she has got them lined up on the matting,
She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting.I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots.
All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits–and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet,
She is sure it is due to irregular diet;
And believing that nothing is done without trying,
She sets right to work with her baking and frying.
She makes them a mouse–cake of bread and dried peas,
And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese.I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots.
She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that’s smooth and flat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits–and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment
To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment.
So she’s formed, from that lot of disorderly louts,
A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts,
With a purpose in life and a good deed to do–
And she’s even created a Beetles’ Tattoo.

So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers–
On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.

They always seem to find us.  The softhearted ones.  The ones who can’t say no.  The ones who know cold weather is coming and shelter is scarce.  The ones whose hearts break to see need staring us in the face.  The ones who care.
Right now we have four of those little searchers in our house and two found me at the library.  Booker came through the front doors and Mittens, in the photo above, hitched a ride by jumping into my car.  Baxter came via my sister who took him in after his owners moved here from Oklahoma and didn’t have a place for him here – he is a well-traveled cat.  Lucy came to us from a breeder who didn’t find a buyer – her hair was so thin and she was covered in fleas.
I don’t know how anyone can put an animal out, ill-equipped to fend for itself with no shelter and no more loving arms; to starve, to freeze, to get disease and to fear.
I am looking at my three cats curled up on the sofa and chairs and at my dog on her princess pillow and I am so grateful that I am softhearted, that I can’t say no and that I care.  And I am so grateful that my husband is the same way.

Day 152 – It’s Booker, Not Discard.

It's Booker, Not Discard.

Day 152

To a Vase by Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Cat (by Henry Beard)

How do I break thee?
Let me count the ways.
I break thee if thou art at any height
My paw can reach, when, smarting from some slight,
I sulk, or have one of my crazy days,
I break thee with an accidental graze
Or twitch of tail, if I should take a fright.
I break thee out of pure and simple spite
The way I broke the jar of mayonnaise.
I break thee if I’m in a playful mood,
And then I wrestle with the shiny bits.
I break thee if I do not like my food.
And if someone thy shards together fits,
I’ll break thee once again when thou art glued.

Day 104

Day 104 has me melting and praying for rain and a soft cool breeze. 

The rain is possible tonight, however I am not expecting a cool breeze for some time. 

Bootsie, my subject today, is one of the cats living at my mother’s house. 

He was a stray we were feeding while we lived in Indiana;

we moved him to Sturgis when the kids and I moved in with Mom.

  Mom just kept him. 

He is spoiled rotten and a little prince. 

He is feeling the stress of the heat and when he is foolish enough to beg to be let outside,

he is ready to return to the cool indoors almost immediately. 

Silly cat!