Tag Archives: Cat

An Italian Tenor, A Redundant Bread Bin, A Cat Called Finbar and Reincarnation Theory


Once upon a time, we had a feline called Pavi, well to be precise he was christened Pavarotti after the famous Tenor, not our doing I may hasten to add as he was given to us as a present and he came fully grown.

He was of a loving persuasion and had traits that were all of his own, a corner of the Kitchen work surface became a favourite perch it was where the bread bin once had its rightful place. Over time Focaccia made way for a Birman cat with an Italian name that would place himself in such a way that there was not even room to store the thinnest of Pizza bases.

This place of refuge was also of strategically importance as it was by the back door where the world entered, so there Pavi would sit awaiting our return from the pet convenience store.

Now sadly he has gone to the big opera house in the sky or so we thought.

As you may or may not be aware we have taken possession of two Birman Kittens within the last few months one named Finbar the other Fingal. Now Finbar is showing all the signs of a pure Bel-Canto and was found strategically sat on the Kitchen work top.

Leading to the realisation that reincarnation is not just a theory but a possibility, or perhaps it was just a hint to buy a new bread bin.


High Notes, Watering Eyes and Two Kittens called Finbar and Fingal.


We have reached the end of a two week period were our stress levels have been souring to new heights, added to heart ache and worry, it has not been a pleasant experience.

Why you may ask, well it is all down to a pair of lovely five month old birman boy kittens.

We adopted them or so we thought and gave them a home when they were thirteen weeks old and like all these things they have won the heart, taken procession of all they survey and are now in total control.

A decision was made at a very early stage that we did not want to breed or allow them to have the ability to add to the population, so a trip to the cat doctor to change their vocal register for ever was inevitable .

Now I known on the day that I had tears in my eyes (interpret as like) at the thought and an uneasy conscience, but we did not tell the boys what the day would hold for them in the hope that they would forgive and not hold a grudge.

What we did not anticipate on their return was that they would get their own back in spades for the trauma we had inflicted. They would not eat or play, they developed symptoms that were consistent with man flu at least.

On a return trip to the vet adding insult to injury, we were told it may just be stress, which maybe a plausible explanation considering the procedure involved, but we were not sure if the veterinarian was diagnosing the felines or the homosapians.

Now two weeks on, pills and potions have done their work and we have the kittens back we originally took to the vet, well almost, bless them.




Dreams of Peace Tranquility and Cat Named Fergus

There has to be a place where you can retreat in comfort and experience peace, tranquility and a pace of life that is not performed at the speed of sound.

Traveling has to be at such a pace these days that even a quiet drive in country is achieved at motorway speeds. A walk in the dales, on a hill-top or a valley can be fraught by the sonic boom of the swooping aircraft practicing their military manoeuvres and if you believe a walk along the sea-shore would be any better, do not be surprised while walking around the Wash in Lincolnshire you encounter jet formations looping the loop.

Some people believe that the only place to seek peace is within the precincts of the cloistered temples of middle England. I hate to be a Job’s comforter but be prepared at some point in time as was our experience the other day while seeking sanctuary from the mayhem of the A1 road network, that the parish priest has called in the builders and you cannot get near the altar for wheelbarrows, lifted rotten floor timbers and mugs of tea and the clamour of hammering is hardly an aid to inner peace and penitence.

This only leaves one place for retreat, beneath the duvet at night. Don’t count on it as the cat snores and dreams of mouse manoeuvres.



St Kyneburgha, Castor, Cambridgeshire,