I always wanted to be The cat

Zippy Speedy and Sadie. Spunky and Miguel. Thank you old chums. I shall miss you too, but I will be fine.
I always wanted to be The cat, but there is a Hindu proverb that says: beware of what you wish for you may get it...

I feel better after that...

I've realised I'm not a writer, and I don't want to transpose diaries. Susan didn't see me curled asleep amongst the autumn leaves, the gingery bits of my technicoloured coat in mimicry – a camouflaged cat! So this is the end of the ginger diaries. 'tis just me, THE cat, and this cat has not enough of the orange hue to inflame the author’s words.
I'm trying to be a pet. I've always been cat. I try sitting on the sofa. I try sitting on Susan's lap... But I'm not comfortable, and Susan says I should just be me – more than enough! That makes me purr. I still cry for Lil – stupid of me. I go into the front room where I can be alone, and I howl. I feel better after that...
 So bye-bye from me, and if Lil were here she'd say, well she'd say, “WHAT?” but she'd mean goodbye. And from The Ferdinand, the ginger fur ball, where ever he maybe; cheerio, old chums, bye-bye.

Ferdinand's diary. In no particular order...

I'll copy exerts from Ferdinand's jottings. Change the I to him, and me to Ferdinand – from first to third person. I think he would like that. Plus when it's all typed out he can edit it when— If he returns...
 Anyway, so I'll just jump in: Ferdinand's diary. In no particular order...

I have a cure for swine flu!

Oinkment!

Susan bought me a pressie. It's a mouse in leopard suit! It's full, and refillable, with my drug of choice, catnip! I've tried to pull off its turquoise tail. Who on earth imagined a mouse with spots and a blue tail – probably been snorting the old nepeta cataria themselves.
I’ve chewed its ears. It's still in tact though, as yet. I'll have another go at it later. I was dragging it through the cat-flap when Susan caught me and brought it back in. It doesn’t do anything for the decor.
Human beings eh! What can you do?
I'll show it to Lil later. She loves catnip. Lil loved catnip.

THE cat.

Susan called me THE cat.
She normally calls me, “No Dolly.”
Or, “DOLLY!”
Sometimes, “DOLLY don’t.”
Or simply, “OI!”

Not my fault she has tangles!

I was combing Susan's hair last night – arranging it over the pillow – my claws a comb. It's very soothing to have your hair brushed. Almost as nice as having my ears rubbed – I suppose... Not sure about that ... Anyway, unfortunately, there was a bit of a snag – literally. My deft claw, in velvet glove, hit a tangle! In attempting free myself I suddenly tumbled from the bed and yanked her awake – not a good start to the day but a nice early start – 4.30 am. Not my fault she has tangles!

The reader's digest!

Susan is reading White Tiger. Now I don't believe in false modesty; I am beautiful, but I have to admit tigers are handsome, but a white tiger! Susan says I walk like a big cat, which is a very great compliment. I'm now practising keeping my head still as I walk like the big cats do.
Martin says Susan doesn't read books. She devours them. I do that. I like paper. I sit the other side of the book when she's reading, my eyes just above the top cover.
When Susan has her nose in a book her eyes move from side to side; she looks like she's watching a toy swinging to and fro on a string. I rub the papers. Chomp at the corners of the book. Nibble at the edges. It's fun this reading malarkey.
 Oh, yes. Books are easy to digest.

Daniel doesn't do cards.

I was looking in the basket today. The basket Lil was in when I last saw her. She's not there. She won't return, Susan says...
 Martin's project wasn't so good, apparently. So he's a bit of a grump. He wants me to let him rub my ears... I'll think about it.
He was given a cooking thingey – a very belated birthday pressie. It grills things. I think he's pleased, can't tell. It was from Daniel, his son, the head hunter – which is better than a card I think. Daniel doesn't do cards.

I know I'm not Grey Friars Bobby. I am NOT a dog!

Susan say’s, “You have to eat!”
I’ll eat when I feel like eating and at the moment I don’t. Sometimes I just want a moment of solitude at the henge. This is Lil's burial site. She has her very own henge.

But see the little yellow blob by the stone? That’s a yellow lily. They were a gift for Susan on her birthday. This lily flower is a gift to Lilly cat.
“Don’t be Grey Friars Bobby!” Susan says, rubbing my ears.
I’m not Grey Friars Bobby. I am NOT a dog!
I am cat.
Most other times though, I’m with Susan. She needs my company I reckon. So when she’s at the computer, I’m on the computer desk; shed, I’m there; studio, she has my company; kitchen, me too. Bathroom, she’s closed the door! But I can rattle the handle...

Some things are just meant to be.

Ok. I've come to a decision. Some things are just meant to be. Ferdinand is gone, and Susan says Lil can't come back. (I'm not sure about this!) I lead Susan to the henge – she doesn't understand that Lil is here...

I don't like spam either.

I don't like spam. Pink flabby stuff. Sort of grub Lil would...


I got a message from google that this blog is to be closed because of spam. (Even though it's not pink.) These are not good times...

'Hello,
Your blog at http://diaryofagingertomcat.blogspot.com/ has been identified as a potential spam blog. Your blog will be deleted in 20 days if it isn't reviewed, and your readers will see a warning page during this time.
After we receive your request, we'll review your blog and unlock it within two business days. Once we have reviewed and determined your blog is not spam, the blog will be unlocked and the message in your Blogger dashboard will no longer be displayed. If this blog doesn't belong to you, you don't have to do anything, and any other blogs you may have won't be affected.
We find spam by using an automated classifier. Automatic spam detection is inherently fuzzy, and occasionally a blog like yours is flagged incorrectly. We sincerely apologize for this error.By using this kind of system, however, we can dedicate more storage, bandwidth, and engineering resources to bloggers like you instead of to spammers.'

In our garden we have a henge – A Lilly henge.

I was looking beneath the chest of drawers; this is the place Lil sleeps while she’s convalescing. There’s an ancient Chinese bowl under there wrapped in bubble wrap – a perfect, curled up asleep, cat- size dish. It used to be my place, but I gave it to Lil – on a temporary basis, until she’s better, and providing she doesn’t throw up.
Susan said, “She’s not there Dolly.”
Well I can see she’s not here! We live in Wiltshire, home of the henge -Stonehenge. In our garden we too have a henge – a Lilly henge.

I poked her in the eye with my paw.

I woke Susan at 2 o’clock and said, “Lil’s not back yet."
“Shh, Doll. It’s OK.”
At 3.00 am, I poked her in the eye with my paw just to let her know that it was not OK, and I was going out...
It was a lovely night. Clear and dry. Stars shimmered on an ink blue sky – no breeze to ruffle my fur. I hate to say this. I always thought it would be great to be THE cat of the house.
But...

She’s been out all night and she wouldn’t like that.

Last night I reminded Susan that Lil was outside. She wouldn’t like that. I reminded her at 3.o' clock and again at 3.30. Susan got herself a drink.
Good she’s up. “Now go and get Lil.” She didn’t.
She’s dosing off again. There is a glimmer of light in the sky, must be about 4.00 am. I tap Susan on the forehead. She rubs my head. “Lil! Outside! Go!”
 Susan told me to, “Shh.”
I purr in her ear. Snuggle. At 4.30 Susan puts on the news. I’m on her head, a furry nightcap. Every half hour, throughout the night, Susan has ignored me. At 7.00 am, I go out. I can smell Lil. Susan scattered the contents of her litter tray on the plant borders. I can smell Lil. The paving stone are damp and it’s breezy. Lil doesn’t like the wind in her coat and she doesn’t do damp. I know Lil. She’s been out all night and she wouldn’t like that.

This was Lil

Lil two hours before she went to the vet. I'll remove this film later and just keep the pic of her when she was looking her best.
But just now I need to see the reason why she couldn't stay. And if I get all maudlin and want Lilly back, then this is the Lilly that would be here, and this is the Lilly that was too sick to stay.

This is Lil

This is a picture of Lil. A photo of Lil when she was Big Lil. An image of Lil when she could hear.
A picture of Lil when she was just a bit overweight and her belly would wobble (gently sway) when she ran. This is her favourite place, above the radiator, atop the sofa, with her eyes studying the kitchen for stray chicken legs.


Her second favourite place (before she preferred not to venture outside) was her stone bench by the forsythia bush, the stone warmed from the sun's rays and the light sparkling on her coat...

That’s a long time. A lifetime...

Lil did come home. But she is so very quiet and very still... She’s asleep in a basket wrapped in a white towel. Normally Lil snores. Lil isn’t making much noise. In fact, she isn’t making any noise. That’s not like her, and I’ve known her for a decade – a decade and a bit more. That’s a long time.
A lifetime...

The cat disappeared gradually until nothing was left but its grin

The cat disappeared gradually until nothing was left but its grin. Lewis Carroll.
Lil had her thyroid gland removed on February 5th. We all had our digits crossed for her... She developed an ulcer on her right eye two days after her operation. So she can’t see properly and she went deaf years ago. And just when I thought Lil had 'disappeared gradually until nothing was left but her grin' she had a gum infection, and they removed her teeth.
Yesterday her unsteadiness on her legs grew worse... Today, this morning, Susan was making coffee in the kitchen, Lil followed her, dragging herself along with her front legs – her back legs a useless twisted weight.
On Wednesday Susan made an appointment with the vet. Now it’s Friday 11.20 am. Unlike Lewis Carroll's grinning cat, she doesn’t believe Lil will reappear, after all she has no teeth – nothing to see. Lil’s appointment is at 2.20.

With a bit of Richard and Judy thrown in ...

I'm wondering what and how this ginger journal should proceed? Ok. Ferdinand is not here. Do I continue in the same vein?
Rambling aside...
I could just copy write his diaries.
BUT, That makes me a secretary!
I'm thinking -The Guardian, Paxman, The Sunday Times...
Pepys.
With a bit of Richard and Judy thrown in ...
Oh yes!

My juices are flowing...

Standing and staring -AKA Wordsworth.

That’s it then!

Susan packed up his box, swept the conservatory. His bacon rind, do I keep it? It’s among the sweepings Susan has made. No!

Lil, although sentimental, grabs the rind and walks off – probably to sprawl on the back of the sofa. Susan will find the rind at some point when she changes the throw.

Ferdinand, the ginger fur ball is missing – presumed gone! Lilly the invalid is convalescing – but now needs dentistry, she has a loose tooth which rattles as she chews...

Me? I'm watching... Standing and staring – AKA Wordsworth.

BUT I do have (have found) someone’s diary!

Missing the point.

Susan lugs back a bag of cat litter – 12.5 kg and dumps some of its contents in a tray marked ‘Kitty’. I, of course, ignore this contraption – Con-trap.

Lil is supposed to wear a plastic bucket on her head but Susan wouldn't tie it on Lil's old turkey neck. "Only if she starts chewing at herself," Susan said.

"She needs it. She needs it," I said. She’d look so bloody funny. Susan pretended not to hear me!

Lil has had her hair shaved: neck, right and left back legs.) I had my camera waiting, poised, ready, but no!

"Get that camera out of my face," croaked Lil.

Lil scratches at the cat litter. Digs a nice little hole, carefully positions herself upon the tray, and pees all over the floor.