This morning She counted us up, one to six, and said our name, like a chant, like a poem, just to be sure that we were all there, before She fed us. We twined and circled, waiting for breakfast on our golden plates, while she stood in pyjamas.
"Small Pixie, Naughty Elmo, Deep Dark and Mysterious Max, Pale Kiffer, Old Martha and my Wonderful Bright Orange, Burning Like The Sun, Maurice."
Her counting is getting better.
Ah yes... Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb!
ReplyDeleteNaughty Elmo? Surely shome mishtake!
I'd like to know how old are the gingers?
ReplyDeleteand how old is kiffer, martha and max?
Cheeky cats! I am very good at counting and this is why I had children. With them, I can count up to 60! (Fingers and toes, including mine!)
ReplyDeleteAs for ages of cats, now let me think. Martha is 13. She came as a kitten when Hannah was one. Max is nearly 9. He came from a farm near Roch in Pembrokeshire. Pixie and Maurice are littermates and are 3 or maybe 4 and Elmo is their younger brother by a year. They all came from St Elvis Farm near Solva. And Kiffer, well, he is special. I thought he was old. He looks old, strong and solid, but it seems he is but a year or two old. When he was young he had an ear infection. His movements remind me of a cat version of Captain Jack Sparrow, so maybe he was marooned on a dessert island.
And I, well, I am 47.
Thank you for counting!
ReplyDeleteYour cats are very young. Even Max is just 9! Schluck.
My cat is almost 13, so he is a old one. He got a bit white around his nose, but he still has all teeth (and they are in best condition) and he is running and jumping like a young one.
And here he is :-)
http://frau-christines.blogspot.com
And I am 44.
Dear Gingers,
ReplyDeleteYou go gallantly on your catly journeys, unmindful of the dangers we humans fear for you: speeding cars which might flatten you, feathered things that swoop from the sky with out-stret--ched talons--anything that would take you from us. So we count and call and hover until you are with us indoors--where, from affection, we allow you to scratch furniture, hawk up hairballs, overturn plants, and snuggle, purring, with us at night.
Oh, that is so lovely - I say the names of ours too, even though there are only 3 of them! And I sing to them, and kiss Bacons furry little paws.....
ReplyDeleteThe best kind of madness!
Ah, the naming of cats! the counting of cats! and so glad that they were all there, milling around, wanting their breakfast.
ReplyDeleteThankyou, Jackie, for the counting.
ReplyDeleteRusty would like you to know that he is, we think, nearly 18, but still sharp of fang and strong of jaw.He would also like people to know that he managed to skittle out on Wednesday night. All night.But at 5 am he was at the door, ready for some breakfast,please!
I feel I need to tell you day after day how much I love this blog. And I still want you to adopt me. :)
ReplyDeleteWhy do I get the impression that Maurice wrote this entry?
ReplyDelete(And Cuca the street kitty is 4, Cai the Cardi is 2, Fergus the other Cardi is 9 months, and I am 47. )