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One Cat’s Christmas

Kitten
Kitten Etching

A Feline Reverie

I lie easy by the hearth
Recalling a winter long ago
Just a sparkly eyed kitten
The first time I saw snow.

They brought me home that December
The house was new and strange
With curiosity I walked it over
And soon my life it changed.

Early Christmas morning.
The humans they crept down
A new scratching post and some toy mice
Were the presents that I found.

As I clawed off all the paper
I knew this place was good
I started to play, to whirl & whirl away
As only this cat could.

Soon, tiredness overtook me,
In the warmth of the winter fire.
Into a ball I curled, and my tail furled
To the sound of a christmas choir.

Now I’m an older wiser cat,
There’s something that occurs to me
The best present that you can ever have,
Is to be settled on a kind human’s knee.

You see, its warm and safe there
To be lost in feline dreams,
Of warm and food, and a mother cat
A feline reverie.

 

 

Wishing all you cats out there a Merry & Restful Christmas & A Very Happy New Year. ….. o.k. humans too!

 

George on his cosy electric blanket
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Judith, Mog and a Tiger

Reader, sadly we have to report the passing away of a famous and wonderful writer & Illustrator, Judith Kerr, who has died at the age of 95.

Judith created the popular children’s character Mog, the foolish and forgetful but well-meaning mottled and striped tabby cat.

Judith was also the author of the bestselling The Tiger Who Came to Tea in 1968.

British author and illustrator Judith Kerr OBE, photographed at her home in London in 2011. Rest In Peace Judith

Photograph: © Times Newspapers Ltd.
Mog
Mog The Cat

Judith Kerr drew on real life in her writing. She began the Mog series with ‘Mog The Forgetful Cat’ (1970) and went on to write 16 books in total. She drew on the developing personalities of her own young family for inspiration.

Just some of the Mog books.

Mog the Cat

Once there was a cat called Mog.

She lived with a family called Thomas.

Mog was nice but not very clever.

She didn’t understand a lot of things.

A lot of other things she forgot.

She was a very forgetful cat.

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Pumpkin Pals

Halloween

When witches go riding,

and black cats are seen,

the moon laughs and whispers,

‘tis near Halloween.

Anonymous


oscar and his new pals

Oscar and his new pals, Pumpkin Pat & Lantern Len
Photograph: by Ed

Oscar took a shine to this poem by an anonymous author, so we have used it for his Halloween post. Oscar tells me this really is the best time of year for all black cats!

Happy Halloween, with love from

little Oscar and Ed.

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Poussie Poussie Baudruns

front cover illustration

Jennie (where a boy becomes a cat!) Book Cover
Photograph: Ed @ Moggyblog

Poussie Poussie Baudruns

Old Traditional Scottish Nursery rhyme

‘Poussie, poussie, baudrons,
Whaur hae ye been?’
‘I’ve been tae London,
Tae see the Queen.’

‘Poussie, poussie, baudrons,
Whit gat ye there?’
‘I gat a guid fat mousikie,
Rinnin’ up a stair!’

‘Poussie, poussie, baudrons,
Whit did ye dae wi’ it?’
‘I pit it in ma meal-poke,
Tae eat tae ma breid.’

In this old Nursery rhyme it seems that the baudrons (or cat) has saved the mouse he has caught to make a sandwich later. The baudrons translates as “a cat” or even “an affectionate name for a cat”, or “a happy cat (re: the word mimics the purring sound of a cat)”.

Reference: The Nursery rhyme is taken from the preface of the book ‘Jennie’ by Paul Gallico. The book was first published in the USA in 1950 as ‘The Abandoned’. The book is a fantasy story about a boy who loved cats so much that he would bring in the local strays and neighbourhood cats off the street to keep in his bedroom (mother is not pleased!). Without giving too much away the boy is himself turned into a cat. The book is a narrative of the cat’s adventures.

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Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere

Any table

any chair

Top of piano

Window ledge

In the middle

on the edge

Open drawer

Empty shoe

Any body’s

lap will do

Fitted in a cardboard box

in the cupboard with your frocks

Anywhere, They don’t care

Cats sleep Anywhere.

‘Cats’ by Eleanor Farjeon

norman cat asleep

Moggy Norman ~ Anybody’s lap will do

Eleanor Farjeon

Eleanor Farjeon (1881-1965) was a British author of children’s stories and plays, poetry, biography, history and satire. Many of her works were illustrated by Edward Ardizzone. She lived much of her life among the literary and theatrical circles of London, and her friends included D. H. Lawrence, Walter de la Mare and Robert Frost. For several years she had a close friendship with the poet Edward Thomas and his wife. Edward Thomas: The Last Four Years is an account of their relationship. She won many literary awards and the prestigious Eleanor Farjeon Award for children’s literature is presented annually in her memory by the Children’s Book Circle.

From the Faber books website
norman cat asleep

fast asleep on a sunny window ledge
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The Naming of Cats by T.S. Eliot

The Naming of Cats

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have Three Different Names.

First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey –
All of them sensible everyday names.

There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter –
But all of them sensible everyday names.

But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?

Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum –
Names that never belong to more than one cat.

But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover –
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.

When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:

His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name

His ineffable effable

Effanineffable

Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

‘Author: T.S. Eliot

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Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer, by T.S. Eliot

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple of cats
As knockabout clown, quick-change comedians, tight-rope walkers and acrobats
They had extensive reputation. They made their home in Victoria Grove
That was merely their centre of operation,
for they were incurably given to rove.
They were very well know in Cornwall Gardens,
in Launceston Place and in Kensington Square
They had really a little more reputation,
than a couple of cats can very well bear.

If the area window was found ajar
And the basement looked like a field of war,
If a tile or two came loose on the roof,
Which presently ceased to be waterproof,
If the drawers were pulled out from the bedroom chests,
And you couldn’t find one of your winter vests,
Or after supper one of the girls
Suddenly missed her Woolworth pearls:

Then the family would say: “It’s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie or Rumpelteazer!”
And most of the time they left it at that.

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a very unusual gift of the gab.
They were highly efficient cat-burglars as well,
and remarkably smart at smash-and-grab.
They made their home in Victoria Grove.
They had no regular occupation.
They were plausible fellows, and liked to engage,
a friendly policeman in conversation.

When the family assembled for Sunday dinner,
With their minds made up that they wouldn’t get thinner
On Argentine joint, potatoes and greens,
And the cook would appear from behind the scenes
And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow:
“I’m afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow,
for the joint has gone from the oven-like that!”
Then the family would say: “It’s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie–or Rumpelteazer,”
and most of the time they left it at that!

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a wonderful way of working together.
And some of the time you would say it was luck,
and some of the time you would say it was weather.
They would go through the house like a hurricane,
and no sober person could take his oath
Was it Mungojerrie–or Rumpelteazer?
or could you have sworn that it mightn’t be both?

And when you heard a dining-room smash
Or up from the pantry there came a loud crash
Or down from the library came a loud ping
From a vase which was commonly said to be Ming
Then the family would say: “Now which was which cat?
It was Mungojerrie! AND Rumpelteazer!”
And there’s nothing at all to be done about that!

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer, by T.S. Eliot