The SUBLIMENESS OF BEING A CAT

For your viewing pleasure. 

A collection of cat snapshots in a new book. If you're a cat lover I think you'll enjoy this.

Tattered and Lost: The Sublimeness of Being a Cat

The Sad Story of SPOTTIE

When I found this image I read the back and immediately put it back in the box because it hurt too much. I didn't want this story following me around. But then I thought about it and realized I was the very person who should have it because I would always remember Spottie.

Click on image to see it larger.

Click on image to see it larger.

Though this photo has nothing to do with the Sepia Saturday theme this week I just wanted to post and say I will be posting several theme photos this month so check back in once in a while. I have some very nice wedding shots that I purchased when I thought it was a category I'd like to collect. Well, I lost interest pretty fast because I realized the only thing that interested me were the gowns. That being said, I do have a few odd wedding images I think you'll enjoy. So come back in the coming weeks.
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Tattered and Lost volumes 1 to 7 available at Amazon.

A Day in CLOVELLY 1983

This week's Sepia Saturday prompt is a small village in England, Clovelly. I visited Clovelly a long time ago. I went out of my way to find it after having seen photos in a UK brochure.

The year of my trip was approximately eighteen months after an auto accident on Hollywood Boulevard. I'd spent ten months in physical therapy and was in the midst of a lawsuit to try and receive compensation for my losses. I was also on the verge of going nuts. My stress level was as high as it could go and I needed to leave everything behind. Find a place where for a short time I could shake out the cobwebs and feel free of everything. Yeah, so…the trip sort of worked.

The three months before my trip I'd spent fighting walking pneumonia. By the time I got to England the worst of it had passed, but I still had a horrible sounding cough that would shake the rafters in many old English hotels. So the reality was that Clovelly was not the best choice for me being that no vehicles are allowed and it's a walk down a steep cobblestone street from the car park followed by an even more stressful walk back up the same cobblestone street to the welcoming front seat of my rental car.




The cat as I went downhill.



The night before venturing to Clovelly I'd stayed in Bude and had gone to a local bakery in the morning to buy a meat pie for a "picnic" in Clovelly. When I travel I'm cheap; otherwise I could never afford to travel.

So meat pie in my purse, camera in my hand, I began my descent into Clovelly. The going down was easy. No problems. No coughing or lungs heaving. I stopped into a shop to buy a 7-UP. I stupidly assumed 7-UP would be available in England. I was wrong. I always got sold some weird concoction that wasn't lemonade or 7-UP. Generally it was pretty dreadful, but it's what they had so I bought it. As I wandered around the shop, eyeing ice cream bars, the owner asked, "Are you here for the job?" I turned and looked at him wondering if he was actually talking to me. I'm figuring I look like a tourist. I reek of tourist. Apparently not. I looked like a local and he wanted to know if I wanted a job. I told him no and he said, "Pity." Now I'm not a person used to compliments, but I took that as one and it made me smile and walk a little straighter down the hill. (I was not walking straight coming back up.)




I got to the bottom of the hill and heard people having a grand time in the Red Lion Hotel, probably very nice meals. But that was not my destination. I was heading for the beach for my picnic. Ummmmm…this is the beach. Not what a girl from California is used to. But I settled down on the stones with my lunch and my can of soda. It took a bit of work to move the stones around just right so my soda would sit level enough to not spill. Everything was going along fine and dandy until a hornet decided it wanted my soda. Let's just say it looked like a mad comedy routine with me battling the hornet for possession of the soda. Some people leave their hearts in San Francisco. I left my soda in Clovelly.

It just screams picnic!










The same cat as I climbed uphill. She'd seen all of this before.





Having had enough of my picnic I headed uphill. It was a slow and very painful climb. I was leaning on posts, buildings, bushes…anything to keep me upright and moving uphill. Eventually I crash landed on a curb conveniently just outside the doctor's office. I was sitting there gasping for air when he came out with his black medical bag heading for an appointment. He was not expecting to find someone doing heavy breathing at his front door.

"Are you okay."

I could manage a nod and a wave of my hand.

"Are you sure?"

A smile, a wave, and a thumbs up. I think I probably got out "Yes, thank you" but I can't be sure.


The donkeys who kept whispering to each other and laughing at me.




And the nice lady who let the wild haired heavy breathing woman take her picture. Bless her.



Eventually I made it back to the car park and the rental car with the worst automatic transmission in the world. I sat for awhile just breathing before thinking, "Okay, now where?" In a little while I was back on the road to my next destination.

I'd like to say my health improved as the weeks passed, but the reality is a few days after visiting Clovelly I was staying with a friend at her digs in Oxford where I got a concussion on a low pitched ceiling. So the rest of my trip was cough two, moan two, and try to not die in any hotel rooms.

I'm late getting my post in this Saturday, but I finally found the slides and decided to share my story. It's rare I share anything from my life more than a few odd bits and pieces. This is just a slightly longer bit and piece.

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Tattered and Lost volumes 1 to 7 available at Amazon.

Betty's friends CATTIN AROUND AT A MOTEL in room no. 12

Raise your hand if you remember motor courts. Little motels that were always one floor little cabins or duplexes. Sometimes there was an actual garage to pull into.

Here are Betty's friends with an unknown woman (not that Betty's friends aren't also unknown) holding a cat. Was she the motel manager? A friend who got them a good deal to stay there? We'll never know.






Click on images to see them larger.

That's it folks. As of now I haven't found anymore photos from the girls getaway. Who knows what will show up in the future.
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Available at Amazon 
Tattered and Lost: The Quiet Art of Reading

VISITING the sick

I have mentioned in the past that I am my father's caregiver. It is stressful and tiring. It is the reason I have not posted on any of my sites more often. When a spare minute happens I close my eyes and "sleep" for that moment. I will not complain about doing this. I'm honored to take care of my dad. But oh for a good nights sleep.

Don't forget those who are sick. Do not be afraid of their illness. Call them, send cards, visit them...remember them.


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Vintage PHOTOBOMB

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I give you SIR THOMAS JEFFERSON

A big cheer to Sir Thomas Jefferson who is being given the chance to be remembered through this weeks Sepia Saturday.

SIAMESE CAT predicts no more days of summer

For some reason a groundhog is used to predict spring. Seriously, I'm not going to look up the history of it. It is what it is and it doesn't factor into my life. However...what about summer? Wouldn't we all like to know how much summer is left before fall arrives?

I give you the Siamese Cat in a Bucket. Your guess is as good as mine as to what it's predicting. I just know it's warm here and the wind is blowing like there's a blackhole nearby sucking everything into it.

The CAT IN THE CHAIR says...

I always look at snapshots like this and imagine what the cat was thinking. Something along the lines of, “I’ll do it when they’re sleeping. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll make my move when they’re most vulnerable. That’ll teach them to put me in some stinkin’ baby chair!”



No information about this kitty. Perhaps if we knew the name we could check the police blotters from long ago under:

CATS ATTEMPT TO KILL OWNERS FAILS

At midnight on June 24th a disturbance was heard coming from the house at 22 Picketfence Lane. Neighbor, Frances McNutty, called the police at 12:04 concerned for the safety of her neighbors. Upon entering, the police found the owners of the house unconscious with blood loss due to severe scratches over their entire bodies and a house in disarray. The bodies were found in the bedroom. The only other occupant in the house was their cat Benny asleep in a basket of laundry.

Originally no suspects were found until a roll of film was developed exposing motive for the attack.

The cat was taken away in tiny handcuffs; a look of contentment on its face.

Neighbor Frances MuNutty was heard to say, "I'm stunned. Benny was always such a good pussy cat. He never pooped in my bushes."

Benny is now serving his time at a farm in upstate New York where he has a mice quota to fill each day. 

BOASTFUL

This is my contribution to this weeks Sepia Saturday.

I have no information about either of the subjects of this photo other than what can be gleaned from their poses. I'm guessing they both thought of themselves as pretty tough he-men.

KITTENS in the house

Not one of the cats I have adopted was ever younger than around 9-10 months when I took them in. With each of them, I wish I'd seen them when they were very young because they had to be stunning. I doubt I will ever own a kitten. That is something I will miss.


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MUFFY THE CAT's meow

It’s been a few months since I posted vintage snapshots of pets. I posted mostly images of dogs, a rabbit, and goat, but only a single cat photo. I will now rectify that.

I give you Muffy.

Click on image to see it larger.

Pet owners can go to extremes expressing their adoration for their pets. I love my pets, but I know that putting their food on a china plate with a sprig of parsley just makes me look like a fool. And the peas and carrot chunks in my dogs food are pointless. He just as happily consumes turkey shit, but I don’t think they’ll ever do a commercial showing a dog doing a taste test with turkey shit winning, parsley or no parsley.

The most extravagant thing I ever did for one of my pets was to buy a plaid dog collar at Harrod’s in London. I knew it would look great against his black fur. I still have the collar though the plaid is worn off and the dog died over a decade ago. That’s as wild as I ever got.

I never owned a cat until 1990. I’d always had dogs and birds. A cat was just a pet that other people had. I could never really understand the reason to own one. They were let out in the morning, they came back for food, then again went out. That was it. It wasn’t until I met a longhaired black cat named Whiskey that my attitude started to change. I can now happily say since 1990 I have resided in a home that has been the abode of choice to 4 cats; one is on my lap as I write this.

So let’s hear it for Muffy and its owner who decided the cat needed such a fancy abode of their own.

To see previous posts about pets simply click on “PETS” in the labels below.

NOBODY was making eye contact

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Gypsy POSING WITH A CAT

The kitty in this shot looks like a calico. I can identify with that. I can also identify with the cat fur she now has on her dress. Packing tape. I'm just sayin' packing tape! The only thing I've found to take cat hair off of stuff is packing tape. If someone else has a better idea I'm open to your suggestions.

Gypsy again looking lovely.