Re-introducing: the Cats

Today is a momentous day. Today, after a hiatus of one year, I’m going back to blogging. I knew I would eventually. I waited to be ready.
I’ve discovered new blogs that I enjoy beyond words, and they also nudged me forward.

Most of my favourite blogs have a point. A theme. A purpose. I delight in the fact that mine has not. My blog is my blank page, the voice of the girl who seldom speaks out. I delight in my freedom to write about anything ...
Compounding my freedom, is the fact that all my followers have long ago stopped checking on my blog. I don’t expect traffic except for a few loved ones. That also makes a difference, knowing that what I write will hardly be read.

Last evening we had a thunderstorm. Wind and rain lashed the windows, the trees, the clothes laid out to dry, the kind of outpour that soaks you within seconds, violent winds that flipped leaves over, like a skirt billowing up against your will. I loved it. I love storms. A gorgeous double rainbow illuminated the sky and then night fell.

When I was blogging last, I had just lost one of my favourite cats ever. Right away, I got two new kittens and they did a wonderful job of distracting me from my grief. So now, for this new reader that I will call "you", here’s how the family stands:

Circe is twelve, the oldest, the veteran. She’s declawed. She is a mama’s girl, following me like a shadow, trusting no one but me. She’s very soft, very skinny, under her fluffy fur she actually weighs nothing. I pick her up like a rag doll and she pretends to hate it but she loves it. She’s curious, sociable, not shy, but grumpy. She will lie close to the others but will never actually cuddle with them. She’s learned to bite hard, to make up, I think, for her helplessness at being declawed (I mistake I vowed never to do again), but with me, she only fakes it and never actually bites.

Circe

Loukhi was Luritja’s “baby”. I’ve never seen two cats so attached to each other, so inseparable, so intimate. I know Luritja’s death left a huge hole in Loukhi’s life. For months on end, she lost patches of fur, bare spots as clean as if they had been shaved. I think she was grieving badly in the beginning. Loukhi is the quiet, peaceful one. She’s a solid cat, yet she has that tiny, soft, shy meow, which she uses only to answer when you sweet talk to her. Even though she doesn’t love them as she loved Luritja, she gets along fine with the others and I think she’s happy enough again, as happy as you can be when the love of your life has been taken away from you. She loves being petted but doesn’t come onto your lap. None of my cats do.

Loukhi and her love

Happier times

Loukhi

Saphi is the tiny thing I adopted one day after Luritja died. As a kitten, she was adorable. Independent, curious, friendly. She immediately got along with the others. Her characteristic was that she fell in love with the blanket on my bed and used it as a surrogate mother. She would suckle on it passionately, purring loudly, until she soothed herself to sleep, her nose still in the fake fur. I have endless pictures of Pasha and her, as kittens, and on each of them, Pasha is stretched out like a rabbit while you can’t see Saphi’s nose, buried in the blanket. They made for an adorable pair. A year later, Saphi is still as tiny and as skinny as delicate china. She’s become even more independent. She doesn’t like petting and tries to avoid our hands. She doesn’t purr easily and she’s the first cat I know who hardly ever smiles. A non-smiling cat is so very odd to me. Instead of smiling, she gravely looks at you with huge but friendly eyes, studying you. She looks directly at you, deep into your eyes, intent on understanding what you’re saying, or on passing a silent message. She spends hours away from home. We wonder where she goes. For all that, it is clear that she’s a perfectly happy cat, playful, jumping higher than any other, and as acrobatic as a monkey. Precious Saphi.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful...

"Hum, impressive!"

A few days after Saphi, I got Pasha. Pasha is the only male, as was Luritja. And they turned out to have a lot in common. Pasha is a bon vivant. Food is his hobby, and from being slightly smaller than Saphi as a kitten, he’s grown at least twice her size. He’s the biggest cat now. He’s a trusting, good natured fellow, who rolls onto his back any chance he gets, another thing Luritja used to do. He has regular bouts of intense affection during which, purring loudly, he rubs back and forth against you, stubbornly. And he has the funniest meow, which he uses a lot. His meow is very clear: an insistent, reproachful whining. It seems to chide you for the way you treat him/ignore him/not feed him, it complains: “I am a poor, pitiful cat and I’m being grossly mistreated”. You could build unions on his meow. His only fault is that he plays too rough. When he claws in play, he doesn’t hold back, as the cries of the others often remind us. And when he decides to ambush my feet beneath the sheet while I’m peacefully sleeping, the pain has made me scream out loud. Idiot.

With the newcomer



Well! I certainly did not intend to write to such length on my first post back, but I’m glad you are now introduced to the crowd. Thus you will know who I’m talking about... All these pictures are old, and now that they're grown up, I'll post new ones so you can see the changes. As for the rest of the house’s inhabitants, it will be for another time!