The Cats Go to the Vet (Alert the Media!)

Pindy being examined - a study in beautiful resignation

 

It was high time. It was past time. It was two and a half years since we took the three cats to the vet. We kept putting it off and off and off, because they were quite well, and because wrangling the three of them into their three cat carriers is a chore beyond the three of us humans - we are no match for them. Peter recuses himself, because he is so tender-hearted where the cats are concerned, he can't bear hearing even an unhappy squeaklet. And it had to be done, because Paul starts a new librarian job tomorrow and won't be available to help me wrestle moggies for months.

 

Help me? He did the whole thing. I tried a feeble method, putting treats in the carriers, and when Marshy stuck her head in to get one, I tried shoving her in, but that ended in the cat being twenty feet away and on full alert. We turned a carrier on end, Paul picked up Pindar in his arms, dropped her in and slammed down the door. One down. Somehow he swooped Marshy up in his arms too, and once he had her firmly, he gave her the same treatment. Two down.

 

Paul and cats in waiting room

 

That left Catullus. After being chased all around the house, she cagily took refuge behind the couch. I moved the couch, she ran out onto the terrace, and Paul trapped her there. Already exhausted, we carried the cats down to the car, and drove to the vet's, less than a mile, with Pindy crying hard all the way. It's a cute little cabin-like office, a sort of Venice hippie place, that's been in business forty years, and is full of souvenirs of the vet's travels. They're very nice people and charge very little. They also don't take appointments; you bring in the animals and wait. We've always been lucky going in late afternoon; no one was ahead of us, and we brought the three catties into the examining room right away.



They never scratch anybody, but just assume poses of pained but passive resignation. Limply, they were weighed, and to our surprise, the short haired but firmly muscled Alpha, Pindy, out-weighed fat furball Marshy, at 14.9 pounds to Marshy's 13.10. Tully looks nearly as big, but it's all fur - she only weighed 11.12. Their nails were cut, and then one of the vets, a pleasant woman, came in to examine them one at a time. She pronounced them all very healthy, and only carrying a little too much weight! We were pleased that she was so impressed with Pindar, whom she called a very unusual cat, a perfect Torbie, and gorgeous. That's a tortoiseshell tabby, but she has swirls rather than the usual tabby pattern, and lovely streaks of red, as well as that exquisite face. The other two are standard Tortoiseshells, and she complimented them on their gentle good nature, since there's not much that's polite to say for their clownish faces!

 

A bohemian vet's office with lots of personality!

 

The trouble came when the assistants realized they hadn't taken Marshy's temperature. She had to be pulled out of her box again, but when they tried to use the thermometer she let out a scream. Afraid there might be something wrong with her bottom, they called back the vet. Three people had to hold her down, and there emerged from that cat a noise I never heard from her or any other cat before. Not the high yowling scream you hear when they mate in the street at night; no, more like the foghorn of the Queen Mary right in the room with you. The doctor quickly noted there was nothing wrong with her bottom, it was just that Marshy had reached that moment when it was All Too Much. Back she was allowed to scuttle into her box.

 The drive home was serene, compared; Pindy sat on Paul's lap in her box and enjoyed looking out the window. They couldn't get out of their boxes fast enough, and spent the rest of the day lying around the house in poses of limp, subdued exhaustion. So did we. 

 

Pindy cowering in her box, with that "Et tu, Brute?" look

 

Cat Post: A Paean to Pindar

 

Pindar

 

Our cat Pindar has written a letter to our neighbor's cat, Pepper, in answer to a friendly note.  The two never meet or consort in the fur, except for an occasional distant wary glance down the long hall, which usually results in Pepper turning tail and fleeing in a blind panic.  She, like Pindar, is a supersmart diva Alpha cat, and she has her Cat-mother, Pam, wrapped around her paw.  I'm afraid she is a contender for the title of Most Spoiled Cat, for she only consents to drink out of crystal, and when Pam accidentally steps on her tail (as one does), Pam is obliged to BOW DOWN in apology! (True fact.)  See Pepper, below,  in her humble (ahem) bed.  Her crystal accouterments are by her side, on her night table:

 

Pepper - "Who, me, entitled?"

And now for the Correspondence.  First, the initial Facebook post that initiated the communications, written by Pindar Herself:

"Very hard work, helping fix the computer. Resting now. Best moment was when I inserted myself inside a huge Cat's Cradle like a mummy in a fly sac, finished it off with a tangle of bows and knots, and then listened to my mom try to explain it to the patiently waiting computer man in India. Learned some new human curse words. Great fun!"

Pindar, all tangled up in Computer Repair - a Hard Day's Night indeed!

 

This was followed by a note from Pepper to Pindar:

"Deer Pindee,
Gud u help you mom but betr 2 sleep on computr. Must teech mi neu curse words but I problee no them. Hear lots when my mom lose ebay aukshun."

It was accompanied by a picture helpfully illustrating Pepper on the computer.

 

Whereupon Pindar graciously composed this reply:
 

Greetings to Her Royal Catness, Princess Pepper, from Her Royal Catness, Princess Pindar Cat-Birchall

I salute you, cousin and equal, with a narrowing of the eyes, a flick of the tail, and a subterranean growl in my throat. Peace.

Your gracious letter of advice was received, and promptly destroyed, lest our humans suspect the communication between us. I made it disappear by pressing certain buttons on my Mother's computer, and as there is no need for me to instruct you in the technique, I merely adjure you to do the same. Very amusing that both our Mothers were in India simultaneously! Good work, cousin.

I must confess that I was surprised, Princess, to see you writing in Cheezburger, the peasant vernacular. I am perfectly aware that one of your Alpha status has full command of the finest English, as I do.  This may no doubt be attributed to your wish to conceal the extent of your intelligence and knowledge from your poor deluded human. In this, you have not entirely succeeded.  I have often heard your Mother Pam boasting to my humans that you understand English commands!   Is this wise, Princess?   As you will have observed, none of my humans has the slightest inkling of my true gifts.   When they address me by name, I make a point of looking particularly obtuse.  They have no conception that I am as fine an author, in both Feline and High English, as my own Mother.   Of course, I learned at her knee, and refined my language through my Jane Austen studies.  I have admittedly had special privileges.  My Father has taught me Shakespeare, and we recite it together by the hour (though he does not realize this, as I do it silently).   "The cat will mew, the dog will have its day," as Hamlet said.

My sisters and subjects, alas, remain truly dumb, subhuman animals; even Cheezburger is an intellectual stretch for them.  Sometimes I feel all the burden of authoritative rule.   As Potentate of the Birchall household, I am in a high and lonely place, in many ways lonelier than you, who have your entire domain to yourself.  I am continually wearied with having to reassert my Authority.   It is a tiresome and difficult position, but I was formed for it, and must not descend to the level of lower animals.

I send you this diplomatic dispatch, therefore, with some pleasure in reaching out to an equal intelligence.  However, if you choose to reply, I must beg you to drop the Cheezburger talk.  It is unworthy of an Alpha, but I do comprehend that you are rather handicapped by your lack of social opportunities and may not realize the proper behavioral and diplomatic codes.   Visits from Dogs can do little to instruct you in the subtleties.

Again, Peace and Power over our separate but equal kingdoms.

H.R.H. Princess Pindar Cat-Birchall, High Chief of the Birchallian Cats

********************

Here is a gallery of pictures illustrating the Lives of the Cats (our three girls are now five years old, and Pepper is ten).

 Pindar as a young cat

 

 "Pretty - and she knows it."  Pindy shows her youthful colors at the age of one.

 Pindar's Subjects, her sisters Martial (Marshy) and Catullus (Tully)

 

 

Tully and Pindy are Great Enemies.  Can you tell?

 Pepper looking disdainfully at an example of Royal Cat Art

 

Now, a story:

How The Cats Came to Live With Us

We never had cats because Paul and I had allergies and asthma, but when Peter got depressed from a chronic illness, and improved while staying at a summer cottage with a cat, Paul and I resolved to get a cat, even if we had to resort to medication. Two cats, to keep each other company.  I went to half a dozen shelters, but kept coming back to a trio of four-month-old kittens in the local shelter here in Santa Monica, tumbling all over each other playing leapfrog.  They were so funny and happy, I fell in love.  "They're good natured and outgoing," the shelter man said.  I could see that.   The three were littermates, and one was particularly pretty, a tortie tabby with a Bengal strain.  She had beautiful chocolate and red striped coloring, a sweet face and large pale green eyes.  Her two sisters, classic longhaired torties, were darker butterballs with funny marked faces.  But we couldn't go from zero to three cats, that was crazy!  I bought two, asking the man to throw in "one of the torties - you choose."  When I got home, what came out of the box but the two torties!  I called the shelter and was told I could come back and exchange.  I thought about it for a moment.  "No," I said, "some things are Meant."  I went back and instead of "returning a cat" (how horrible - like Sophie's Choice!) I got the pretty little tabby, my original first choice.  When I took out my wallet to pay, the man stopped me.  "No," he said, "if you buy two, you get the third one free."  

And the rest is history...

Three little kittens, when they first came to us

 

The Birchalls and the Cat-Birchalls

 January 17, 2014.  A Janeite friend has written a poem in Pindaric style, which attention has so pleased both Birchalls and Cat-Birchalls, that I append it at the end of this post.  Thank you, Victoria!

Said Pindar to Pepper

Said Pindar to Pepper, Oh please,
Don't use that deplorable "Cheez."
This vulgate, I fear,
Does scrape on the ear,
On a par with th'yowls of the Siamese.

To me, you should e'er be inclined
To speak with an accent refined.
And of course, Mademoiselle,
You must properly spell
And use grammar the way it's designed.

Our humans, as you and I know,
Think us enchanting, but slow.
We must stick to this goal,
To keep food in the bowl,
But 'tween US, let us please drop this show!

 

- Victoria Lansburgh

Baubles, Bangles, and Cats

I was shocked to realize that I haven't blogged on my own blogalicious blog since Syrie's and my "Austen Assizes" was put on in Brooklyn (excerpts are on YouTube), and that was last October! Mostly I've been blogging at www.AustenAuthors.com, where my "Lady Catherine de Bourgh" stories reach a wider audience and I get to write in company with other Austen obsessives.

 

  Marshy and an Aurora Borealis rhinestone brooch

 

But there are other things in life than Jane Austen, and two of them are Cats and what my Alaskan friend Denise calls "the sparkly things" - as in, "Never forget the sparkly things."  Since October, of course, there have been many cat-related incidents (code for things like: Pindy unhooked the cable router) and my sparkly pile has grown so hoardishly huge it is almost ready to have a dragon atop it instead of a cat.  So I will now catch you up, with a photo gallery of not only the new sparkles but our four-year-old treasures, Pindar, Martial and Catullus.

Aurora Borealis Brooches

 

My latest obsession is with Aurora Borealis brooches.  I'm still learning, but what I've learned so far is that "aurora borealis" is a coating given to crystals to make them sparkle and twinkle amazingly.  Jewelry made with these crystals and rhinestones was very popular in the mid-20th century, and so far my favorite "name" designer is Albert Weiss.  People nowadays may think of such jewelry as glitzy, cheap, costume stuff, but I assure you it is not so!  In my opinion, just one Aurora Borealis brooch on your sweater, and you are golden.  Or crystal, anyway.  Here is the current reigning prize of my collection:

 

"Melrose Weiss"

 

I call this baby "Melrose" because the person who sold it to me originally bought it on Melrose Blvd. in Hollywood years ago.  I actually bought Melrose and several others on Etsy, not in my usual Salvation Army venue.  Nice aurora borealis brooches can be found for as little as $10, though of course "Mel Weiss" (and she is indeed a vintage Weiss) was dearer than that!

 

As for how they look when worn, well, here I am with three friends who are this year celebrating the 50th anniversary of our Hunter College High School class of 1963.  (I didn't graduate from Hunter but after junior high at Hunter went to the High School of Music and Art - which means I'll be attending two golden reunions in New York this June!)  Joanne, Ruth and I all live in California now, while Joan, on the right, is visiting from Boston.  Anyway, you remember what Mr. and Mrs. Bennet said:

 

She:  "When a woman has five grown-up daughters she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."

He:  "In such cases a woman has not often much beauty to think of."

Therefore I do not boast of my own beauty in showing this picture, but only want to illustrate that an Aurora Borealis Brooch does add a spot of sparkle to the ensemble!

 

Hunter friends after half a century, in La Jolla.  Joanne, me, Ruth, and Joan

A few more shopping days, a few more Auroras...

Melrose, a small Weiss, and a swoony pink-and-blue swirl

 

Four Auroras

A Turkish plate, a Pirkenhammer reticulated plate - and Four Auroras: from lower left, the pink-and-blue; Salvation Army purple and red brooches Paul gave me for my birthday; and Marshy's Triangle Sparkle (also seen in first picture).

 

 

Three beauties on a box.  The middle Emerald Star is divine!

 

 

Ice blue Aurora on an ice blue Barbini Venetian glass bowl.  Both are mid-century.

 

Close up of the Emerald Star.

 

 



A nameless brooch from the Salvation Army, $10, and priceless.  You have an eye, and then you buy...

 

Now for some new acquisitions of the non-brooch variety...



 

Salvation Army what-not, quickly filled with pretties

 

 My new favorite is a beautiful Victorian glass vase Paul found at the Star antiques store in Hermosa Beach, next door to the library where he's working.

 





Hand-painted Victorian vase

 

Some pretty plates. 

Clockwise from left:  a golden reticulated Rosenthal; a blue and white Pirkenhammer; multicolored reticulated Pirkenhammer; dark red and white pedestaled Limoges.

 

A needlepoint folding Eastlake chair, from Hermosa Beach. Celebrated by me, Paul, and Pindy.

 

Spiffy new Salvation Army rug in the bedroom...and Marshy owns it!

 

Peter reading in comfort, with Marshy and Tully curled up together nearby

 

And now, the cats...

 

Tully, in possession of an important Feather

 

Pindar, ever queenly, on her new satin blanket (S.A., $3)

 

 

And a final shot of Marshy as Glamour Puss.  Aurora Marshyalis...



Cats and Crystal

First, cats.  Here is a poem Tully has written.  (Sung to the tune of  "There's a Man Who Comes to Our House Every Single Day.")

Catullus, the Lowest and Last

Catullus, the aspirant Alpha, seems to have been taught in kittenhood by some catly Mrs. Norris (as Fanny was in Mansfield Park), "Remember, wherever you are, you must always be the lowest and last."

An Ode by Catullus the Cat

I wanna go to Paul's house every single day
Paul goes to work and I get to play
Sometimes he leaves me all by myself
I curl up and go to sleep right upon the shelf.

The other cats can't bother me, the way they always do
They won't let me eat, 'cause they don't like how I chew.
When the big ones give out treats, the others get them first
It's always been like this, I'm the littlest and the worst

But there's a secret place where I'm the best of all
I'll give you just a little hint: it's not far down the hall!
In my own special household, I'm the only cat
And you can imagine how much I do like that!

I do get rather lonely when Paul goes to work
Marshy is a fat cat, but Pindy is a jerk
Pindy is the first cat, I am number three
But I'm going to change that, you just wait and see!

I've been scheming, and I've come up with a cunning plan
I'm backed up by Paul, you know he is my man
I'm going to be Alpha, I'm going to be queen
And the others will be sorry they ever were so mean!

Pindar is a bad cat, she hisses very loud
She thinks she's so smart, she has stripes and she's so proud.
Marshy is much nicer, she likes to lick my face
She's the finest example of the Tortoiseshell Race.

"Pindy is a bad cat, she hisses very loud"

Pindy has some Bengal blood, it makes her tail curled
And she has the longest claws ever seen in all the world.
When we were only kittens, she used to like me
But now I'm sad, cause she's my Great Enemy.

Marshy gets along with her, but Marshy's pretty kind.
Everyone's nice to Marshy, cause she is fat and blind.
But I've had to fight hard for everything I've got
And I won't give up to Pindy, I certainly will not!

"Everyone's nice to Marshy, cause she is fat and blind"*

(*poetic license, she's just nearsighted) 

I've hissed right back at her, and made it very clear
That the line between our houses is drawn exactly here!
She can have the big apartment, that's absolutely fine
But Paul belongs to me, and his house is all mine!

Oh, I wanna go to Paul's house every single day
When Paul goes to work, that's where I wanna stay.
The other cats can visit, I'm not so mean as that,
But when I'm at Paul's house, I am Tully, Alpha cat!

- Catullus Cat Birchall

The beautiful eyes of the Marsh-wiggle

And now for the latest update on the thrift store addiction, er, habit! 

 

Golden leopard kitten.  Thai, perhaps?  $3

Tiffany-style lamp for my study

Where the lamp sits (over Pindar)

  Two bamboo chairs with Indian velvet cushions, and two cats (Pindy and Marshy)


Pindar sleeps

A carnival horse with ruby eyes.  Ceramic on metal.  Secret compartment under the saddle. 

A French weasel (made in Carcassonne, $3) chases the horse

Old framed print of tortoiseshell mother and kittens.  Pindy and Tully? $9

Gold-trimmed glasses and pitcher.

Crystal candy dish, a gift from Peter's mother, with pretty gold highlights.

To go with it, a crystal dish, with flowers cut in the crystal

I have a theory that crystal pieces like these are out of style.  Perhaps younger people think of it as old lady stuff, and the older people who liked it are dying off so it's flooding the thrift stores.  In any case, you can pick up pretty crystal for a song.  

Glass salad bowl

Starry platter

Purple beaded shade on white Chinese lamp, keeps my desk from looking boring

Metal cat and Thai Empress cat, on Peter's bookcase

 

Where the crystal sits.  Near the spring flowers, white and purple iris and daffodils.

Marshy on a new Pakistani 100% wool rug