Hey Diddle Diddle The Cat and The Fiddle

We three cats have been quiet cats for a long time now. She has been busy and we have been curled and hushed. Pixie is not well, with a green sticky sneezing. Maurice struggles to take a breath. So now only I walk. But mostly I sit and guard the house for Mr Griffiths. He is away in a warmer place but news is that he will soon be home. And Nadolig has made himself very comfortable by the fire at the neighbour's house.

As for Max, he has been strutting and posing and sleeping and helping. And I, well, I have been sitting in the bird tree among the bird feeders, waiting. Because I am Elmo and I am bad.

Twilight and life.

She walked too early this evening, around the  village. She wanted to see bats. She wanted to draw. Three dogs, four ginger cats and Her, a curious ritual procession to call the dark in on another day. In the hedges the campion flowers glowed brightest pink. Across the fields swallows skimmed the sea of grass. At Glyn's house he was standing on the doorstep looking tired and frail, but still there with a pat for a cat and a treat for a dog. She stayed and talked and he wanted to know if She thought there was a heaven up there.

As they talked the sky began to glow a rich pink, a flood of colour across the land, a splendid dance of setting sun, a radiant roof for the world. Bats began to flit flitter across the yard. Moth flutter, bat flit and the reeling rasp of grasshopper warblers as twilight fell.

Beautiful fading light and life.

If any could spare the time we think perhaps Glyn would like some letters. They have brought such joy to his life, knowing that he has friends so far away. Just someone out there who is thinking of him.

Cards can be posted to: C/O Chris and Julie, The Moshulu Shoe Shop, New Street, St Davids, SA62 6SN, Wales, UK.
We will make sure that She takes them to him. 

A heartfelt thanks from Glyn and the patient cat.

We at the House of Ginger have been asked by Mr Griffith, our good friend, to say a very big and warm thank you to everyone who took the time and trouble to send cards and letters and pictures and good wishes to him while he was away from home. He is back now, home with Nadolig who is very pleased to see him. He is well, enjoying the sunshine, the familiar and loved surroundings, the garden and the birdsong, and the company of cats again.
And he just wanted to say thanks.
He still has all the cards, in a very heavy bag and will sit and look through, sharing with Nadolig, and marvelling at the simple kindness of strangers who took time to send a line, a wish, a greeting until their thoughts wrapped around the world in a wish that these two friends would be reunited.
And they are.

Warm thanks on a cold sunny day

She was out in the garden today taking photos of blue sky and flowers and thinking of work when She heard voices. Glyn had come home for the day yesterday, to stay overnight for the first time in months. And She had been worried because Nadolig had been away for a few days. We knew Glyn was coming, so sent word out across the field, and the birds and the butterflies, moths and lizards, all carried the word to Nadolig to come home.

Sure enough, She went round to say hi, and there was the pied cat, stratched out in the cold sun.

And Glyn asked that She send out a message to all those who had sent cards, and drawings and paintings to him. He wanted to say a very warm thank you, for these have kept him going through dark days. And we say thank you too, kind thoughts and gift from strangers have touched and warmed all of our heart.

We hope that next week Glyn will be back to stay. We hope so. The village is not the same without him.

The house with a soul.

In the small white house next door all is quiet again. Jackdaws nest in tangled twigs in the great chimney, as they have done every year. Sparrows make their home beneath shallow eaves. In the barn, a wren's nest, a ball of woven sticks and feather and moss. Swallows swoop, feathers like exotic blue sky jewels. They wait on the wire then drop into the old barns through open doorways that welcome them, as they have done every year. In the garden, around the well of clear water, lizards make nests of eggs. In the dark branches of blackthorn, bride white with blossoms, raucous magpies nest on a mess of sticks. More secret and hidden are the tidy nests of the pore voiced blackbirds who sing in Glyn's garden every morning, every evening.

At night badgers and foxes nose around through spaces that used to be rich in vegetables and owls glide over the midnight garden. Bats criss cross the yard in search of moths. Small and secret things scuttle through the darkest shadows while the moon paints the house in a silver light. Even the stones and wood and slate of the house, even the birds, animals, moth winged creatures, even the moonlight, the starlight, all are waiting. And the black and white cat?
He waits too.

The door to the well of sweet, clear water in Glyn's garden.
Honeysuckle grows over the top.

Smiling

A knock on the door and who should be there but Glyn and Nadolig. Glyn, home just for the day but hopefully soon home forever and Nadolig happy purring in his arms.

So we all went round to visit, and Glyn was smiles in the sunshine.

Back home through the green and Nadolig came too, to sit in our garden for a while. Soon, soon. Glyn will be back and the summer will come and he will sit in his garden and remember the past and look to the future.

Eaves dropping from a warm window seat.

We could hear what they were talking about from the window where we sat in the sunshine. The day started off filthy and wet and dark and we wanted sunshine for Glyn, who was spending another day in his house. As the morning slipped by the sun came out and we went around into the garden with him, where the daffodils dance with heavy heads, double flowers, butter rich. Then Glyn and Nadolig went back inside and we went around and clawed Her out of Her studio where She was doing nothing much and avoiding doing other things.

So when they talked about the photograph She took for him, of the house in the snow lit by early morning light, we heard. And when he said, look, there is one of your cats, we heard. His eyes are brighter, clearer and he can see more. This is good.

Then they looked through some more photographs, old balck and white ones, of his mother, a fierce looking woman. She kept chickens in the yard many years ago. And when they talked of his father, and his father's brother we heard. There was a strange picture on the wall. It said that Glyn's Uncle was one of 'The Fallen' in 1916, on the 1st October. He died in a French field.

And we heard when they looked at a photograph of Glyn aged 18, dressed in army uniform, round faced, only months older than our Tom. All this we heard. And She said that She had to go, but Glyn wanted to talk more, and She said She had things to do, but he didn't want to be on his own. So we told Her to stay, to listen. There are times when work can wait.

He seemed more settled, more steady, in mind and in memory.

And all the time on his lap the black and white cat sat, and smiled.

( Cards for Glyn can be sent c/o Chris and Julie, The Moshulu Shoe Shop, New Street, St Davids, Pembrokeshire. SA62 6SN, Wales, UK)

A heartfelt thanks.

Sometimes the cats move over and let me say a few words. This is one such time. 
I have just come back after sitting with Glyn for a short while. It warms the heart to see him in his own home sharing a Cornish pasty with Nadolig who seems glued to his knee. Quiet and thoughtful Glyn was settling in to the solitude of home after being in the world of busy institutional life, and though tonight the windows will be dark eyes on the night again, soon he will be home, and Nadolig will sit on the sunshine doorstep and Glyn will enjoy the butterdark dancing daffodils and primroses that decorate his garden.
For now it is good to see him and his heart is full of all the cards he has been sent from all around the world. I know the fact that people from far away and across the wide world sending him get well wishes have helped him through this difficult time. The simple care shown to him and to his cat, the time taken to show such kindness to a stranger, this is what the world should be like always. He sends his thanks and to that I add mine. When he comes home he will bring all his cards back home with him, and his cat blanket that was sent for Nadolig.
So thank you. From all of us.

Mournful patient waiting watching through dirty windows

Cards

We would like to say a very big thank you, from us, from Nadolig, but also from Mr Griffiths, for all the cards that he has been sent. His nephew, Emrys, has been taking the letters and cards to Glyn, and they have opened and read them together. Glyn's eyes are not as bright as they were when he was young. He doesn't see well. But he has so enjoyed getting the cards from people, from cats, all around the world. They have warmed his heart and cheered his soul, to know that so many people, and cats, would take the time to wish him well. So, he asked that his thanks be sent out to all and everyone. He particularly has enjoys the drawings of cats sent to him by children. And he has had cards from America and Canada, Wales, England, Scotland, Belgium, France, New Zealand and Australia. His room in the hospital is now filled with cats.
When he comes home he will bring them all with him and we will be greatly glad to see him.
And we would like to thank Chris and Julie for collecting all the cards for him.

Pied and ginger

It was a day of golden sunshine. All day She had been working, although for a brief time we made a short trip to see the vet. As the afternoon began to pull long shadows from the sun I clawed Her out from Her studio to try and still the yawning and we walked together up the hill, and for the first time Nadolig came too.

Up the hill to the high top where bird shadows chased cloud shadows and Bella and I shared secret thoughts.

And Nadolig loved what he could see, curled up with Her, then followed back down and ate supper in the garden and sat on the windowsill as the sun went down and stars came out to light the night.
The shadowcat has stolen the moon. It will be a dark night tonight.

A heartfelt thanks.

Today is a warm day, calm, quiet. Nadolig sits in the sunshine in the garden and waits. And we would all like to send our thanks to all who have sent letters and cards to Mr G. They have come from Wales and England, Scotland and Ireland, Australia and Austria, Belgium and America, from north and south, California, Colorado, Alaska, and Australia. All bring good wishes and news from cats all around the world and all gladden Glyn's heart.
The small world of Treleddyd will be glad again when Glyn is home and we are told that he is doing well and is warm and cared for. And She has given us all a talking to about how much food Glyn has given us over the years. There is always a warm welcome for any four legs, be it cat, dog, fox or badger, with Glyn, so sharing with Nadolig, for a short time, should not be too difficult for us to manage.
So thank you, for the cards. Heartwarming.

Nadolig

I am Nadolig, the pied cat.
Many years ago when She came to live here there was a cat. Black as the night when the moon is gone he was. Dafydd his name. He lived with Glyn, the two together, in peace of summer and winter and every day the two would walk the village bounds, morning, evening. In his pockets Glyn had crumbs of cheese and bread and apple and he would feed the birds, so that She would know when we were beating the bounds by the flock in the air that followed. Sometimes She would sit a while and they would talk.
Daffyd died, many years ago, hit by a careless car on the lane that leads to the village.
Soon after Ebril arived, for the world of cat knows when there is someone lonely, needing company. Wild lethario, Ebril would wander and court the lady cats at Upper Porth Mawr farm, driving Peggy mad with his late night songs of love. But he would always come back to Glyn. Until the day he died also, and then I was sent.
Some say Ebril was Daffyd's child. Some say I am Ebril's. Only we cats know the truth of this.

So now I am the cat of Treleddyd. But I am alone. Glyn has gone away again, for the cold can be a bitter enemy for the old. We sat together for most of the winter but when the coldest snap came it did bite hard and deep.
She comes and feeds me. She tells me that Glyn is warm, safe, but will be away for some while yet.
So I wait, watch and keep the house. And with me waits the black cat ghost of Daffyd.

Blue sky, buzzards and lapwings

Across ground sprinkled with snow we walked together to the hilltop high. So quiet the day that you could hear a cat paw on frozen snow, a flapwing flight of a flock of lapwing and the crunch munch of cows grazing bracken. Light and snow, winter, a sky filled with birds. Paradise.

At home we greeted Mr Griffiths. So cold in his house, but he seemed quite well, with Nadolig held tight in his arms.

Autumn

These things are early autumn.
The harvest moon in a clear sky.
Orion the hunter and his dog on the eastern horizon.
Red rose hips .
Black berries in bird filled bushes.
Swallows on lines in the sky.
Blue sky and sunshine warmer than summer.
Spider webs heavy with dew beads.
Seal song and pups on the stone beach.
The scent of winter.
Hay bales and stubble fields, gold in the evening sun.
Bright pheasants.
Arrows of geese high in the blue.
And the bracken dresses itself in ginger.

And even though She walked to the seal beach she forgot the lense that makes the seals look closer. But we did see Glyn today and her looked so well in the warm sunshine that was warmer than any of the days of summer.
Soon it will be his birthday.

Simple moments of peace in busy days

As She came down from her early morning walk She stopped for a brief while to talk with Glyn. We had already been calling to be sure he was well.
It seems almost as if his house is being taken back to the wild. There are jackdaws calling in the chimneys, hungry young in bundles of stick nests, and great-tits feeding young in nests in the sheds.
Glyn was smiling and feeling the sun beginning to warm his face, but troubled by misted vision and saddened that he can no longer go walking up the hill for hours.
But still he wanders where he can as his world gets smaller. He feeds the birds and talks to cats and passing people.
Today his smile warmed our hearts.

Stealing the cats' blog

We have just walked together in the dark of a cloud filled full moon night, around the bounds of the village before sleep.
I cannot express how quietly delighted I feel to see lights shining through the patterned curtains of Glyn's house, to know that he is there in his house filled with memories, safe and well.
Across the fields foxes are barking their eerie starlight barking calls and as we walk our shadows are made by the light from Glyn's house.

Worrying

A few days ago She went round to visit Mr Griffiths and he seemed distracted. She was worried as he had not shaved and She had never seen him unshaven before.She fussed and worried about whether to phone someone, get the doctor, what to do.
Then in the morning Nadolig was outside the cat flap. This is unusual. He never comes around now, though sometimes we visit.
So, off She went to see how he was.
Turned out he was in fine form, and we could have told Her that!
Just lost his shaver!

The pride of my heart.

Today we all went round to see how Mr Griffiths was getting on now that he is home. She worries that he will not be able to cope.
"How are you," She said.
He smiled.
"Fine, and all the better for seeing him," he answered. " I missed him. He is the pride of my heart."
And we thought, what a beautiful thing to say about a cat. And Nadolig sat on the doorstep, round with food, and he smiled to his secret and magical self.
The cat that knew just when to come home.

Thursday.

Happy man.

Happy cat.