RIP Myrrah

Before I married philb, I shared a house and a life with another man, and a varying number of cats. Victoria Elvina, the eldest, was a regal, totally-black lady who ruled the household with an iron paw. We lost her in 2001: found her lying on the ground outside, having died some time during the night.

Her daughter, Myrrah, was a tabby and white cat of very little brain, and a timid personality. It took her three years to decide I was Not Monster, and not long after I left to decide I was Monster again. She died last week, of cancer, and I mourn her loss. She was a spoiled Madam of a cat, with a most unsettling start in life: she was one of two litters that Vicky was carrying simultaneously, with the wrong litter being born first. She was the only survivor of both litters, and both Vicky and her were nearly lost. She was often called ‘miracle’.

myrrahMyrrah

My ex is now left with two cats – both of whom were my fault. Talen, the eldest of the two was a cat with two mothers, as he lived with two queens, one of whom had lost her litter and was helping to raise the other’s. His name is taken from a character in the Elenium, by David Eddings – a boy with two mothers. Admittedly, my Talen isn’t a thief and an artist.
talenTalen

Cobweb is the survivor of the pair of kittens we adopted in 2001. His brother, Puck, was hit by a car at the age of 6 months

kittens

Puck is the sleeping white kitten, and Cobweb is the black kitten. They were so named because at the time, I was living in an old (AD1697) cobwebby house and the night he arrived, he kept hiding in corners and coming out covered in cobwebs. It was then very difficult not to call his brother, a little imp who got into everything and everywhere and generally caused chaos, Puck. They were two halves of the same cat, and Cobweb was devastated when Puck was killed.

I will miss Myrrah, for her tantrums (think a feline Violet Elizabeth), her pretty nose, her fearfulness and her purr.

Exeunt omnes

Exeunt omnes

Exeunt omnes,
originally uploaded by Purplekitten.

Random Cat is now a regular visitor to this restaurant: waiting outside the back door in the morning, and sauntering idly to the food bowl of an evening. Once he has eaten his fill, it’s off over the gate again, to do whatever a tom has to do during the day.

Mobile Home

I’ve found it! That is, a phone that can contain my life cheerfully and still be useful as a phone.

The 9300i is fantastic. Okay, it’s a little bigger than my old phone, but it has to be to fit that glorious, lavish screen in. And boy do I appreciate it. No more lugging round those enormous OU textbooks! I was a bit dubious about being able to read anything usefully on what is essentially a very tiny screen (compared to this laptop), but once you get used to it, it feels very nice indeed.

Personally, I find the user interface logical and consistent, and cannot fault it (so far). Then again, I got on perfectly well with my Psion 5MX, so I guess I’m Symbian-compatible.

Only one thing has annoyed me so far, and I swore I wouldn’t care about such things as ringtones, but I can’t find a simple ring-ring tone that sounds like a normal phone. What inspired me to search was philb ringing me this morning, while I was on the train, and the ghastly Nokia tune belting out of my bag. Luckily I was approaching the signal black hole of Twyford, so it only blarped once before dying. But something needed to be done.

So I spent my lunch hour in the staff room at work, apologetically flicking through the ringtones in the hope of finding something inoffensive. It makes some very impressive noises, but I’m not 12 any more. And hey, this is supposed to be a businessman’s phone. You can’t seriously tell me that grown men relish pretty noises coming out of a serious phone??

In despair, I’ve settled for the one called ‘tinkle’. They’re taking the piss..

Oh no, Mogret, it’s the Wrong Food!

Much to Mogret’s disgust, I have given her the Wrong Food to eat this morning. What is wrong with me? Can’t I see that it is clearly inedible? Am I trying to poison her?

It’s amazing just how many expressions of digust and horror she manages to wrangle her little splotchy face into.

Sadly, for Mogret, no amount of prancing and wailing is going to make the slightest difference this morning. That can of poison was the last cat-feeding material that I have, as I have not been shopping this week.

I expect I’ll come home tonight to find her chasing an albatross around the room. Or a small pile of stomachs sitting on the garden path. This probably requires explanation: she consumes mice and baby birds and neatly leaves the stomach on the path. She won’t tell us why.

This week has been the longest,emptiest week of them all: philb is living at his mum’s house while she is on the Isle of Mull. His mum has two cats, one of whom requires medicating with accuracy and timing. We have one cat (and a half, I suppose as Random still treats this place like a restaurant), who requires the world on a plate, and subservient humans available at all times for reassurance purposes. Therefore, the Braggs are temporarily parted in the interests of cat-maintenance.

There has been a small spot of excitement though, in the arrival of my new Nokia 9300i. I wanted something suitable for reading pdfs on the train. I was not bothered about the lack of a camera, seeing as I generally carry my optio s4 around. I was mildly intrigued, and philb twitching with excitement about, the possibilities of a wireless LAN connection.

I have been most impressed so far: the interface is nice, the screen is glorious and all looks promising. I have crammed it full of my Open University textbooks in pdf format (the entire reason for the purchase) and will give it a thorough test on the train today.

Random Breakages

We were rudely awoken by a cat this morning. This is a normal occurrence; what made this morning different was that it wasn’t Mogret that woke us. It was Random Cat.

There was a tinkly shattering noise from the kitchen at about 05:10 this morning. The alarm clock was not due to summon us from sleep until 05:40. That fact alone was enough to warrant grumbling but we both traipsed blearily downstairs… to hear a miowing that is truly distinctive.

For reasons best known only to Random, he had busted his way in through the cat-flap (we lock the Mog in at night as she is impossible to see and has no road sense) and was now yelling frantically from the middle of the living room.

I let him out the back door and he shot gratefully down the garden path to freedom, only to return seconds later when I put some food into the outside cat-bowl. He let me stroke him, despite his traumatic imprisonment, and all is well.

Given Random’s fear of being trapped inside anything, I’m a bit confused as to why he would break into our house. It shouldn’t have been for reasons of hunger: he was fed yesterday morning. I’m pleased to report that there was no antagonism between the two cats: what woke us was the mug he broke when trying to escape the kitchen, not the normal yelling you get when two cats meet.

Still, he’s a nice cat, if a little shrill, and it would be nice if he adopted us permanently. Once has has conquered his fear of being Inside Things.

busy day

Today we went to Swansea. And back. To pick up a broken synth from a very nice man.

We left our house at 8:20 this morning, and arrived in Swansea at 12:05. Which isn’t too bad, seeing as there was a rail replacement coach between Cardiff and Swansea.

We spent the afternoon bimbling around Oystermouth and the Mumbles. We had the nicest icecream ever, at Joe’s Icecream Parlour. Seriously, if you happen to find yourself anywhere near one of these parlours, do indulge.

The journey back was nowhere near as pleasant: we left Swansea at 16:45 and arrived home at 22:02. Again, the journey was lengthened by the Swansea-Cardiff section being traversed by coach. Just outside Didcot in Oxfordshire, there was a long wait whilst a trackside fatality was dealt with by the British Transport Police. We should have been home by 20:45. I suppose, in the circumstances, we should be grateful that we were able to return home at all. Someone didn’t…

Mogret, of course, was most put out: she dislikes changes in routine and we were not there to open the cat food for her. I swear she was on the verge of reporting us to the RSPCA for cruelty. She has now eaten and flounced off to sleep on our bed. Which we should also do. Minus the flouncing: I’m too tired to flounce tonight.

a joyous reunion

Words cannot describe the sheer elation we feel right now. Random cat has been found and safely relocated back here.

About 20:15 this evening, we had a phonecall from the vet to say that Random had been spotted in their car park and that they would try and keep his attention until we could get there. I have never cycled 5 miles quite so fast in my life. By the time we got down there, they had managed to trap him and he was in one of their cages.

I asked the vet to scan for RFID tags; he has none. Not that this necessarily means he’s homeless, but it’s unusual for a cat not to be chipped.
We then had the problem of how to get a cat home on a bicycle, but luckily Phil’s friend Paul drove us home, with Random yelling all the way.

I feel very very lucky right now.

Random Cat has eaten more food, purred and been stroked (so he doesn’t hate me, at least) and is now wandering the streets of Holyport. We were going to keep him in, but he was so distressed at being captive, that we thought it best to leave him outside, where he is happy.

unhappy day

I wish more than anything that I hadn’t tried to take Random Cat to the vet. He escaped from the cat box in the car park, and is now lost and alone in a strange town. Words cannot describe how awful I feel. He’s such a timid cat that even if anyone sees him, he won’t let them near. We have been scouring around the area for the last two hours. The very worst thing is that we didn’t know for sure if he was a stray or not, so I may have just lost someone’s cat.

I wish life came with an ‘undo’ button.

EasterCards-Reunited

Well, there’s a thing. In this post I mentioned that we had received an Easter card intended for another set of Braggs entirely.

I was kindly directed to a Rhiannon Bragg on friendsreunited by ShadowTail, who posted a comment on my blog.

£7.50 later and I sent off a message…

I received a reply, and bingo! Owner located!

Weirdly, they live about 100 metres away, round the corner. So we popped over with the card..

Thank you lazyweb! That seriously made my day.

early-morning gift

I awoke to a great commotion outside the bedroom door – the Mogret was miowing/blorping/chirping excitedly and insistently.

Then we noticed the half-a-whateveritwas that she was consuming.

Well that’s nice, Cat: bring us a present and then get overexcited and eat it yourself. Thanks.

I guess it’s baby-bird season, and there’s no amount of beeping collars that will allow baby birds to escape from her. Which is sad, and makes me want to lock her inside. It’s a tricky one: I know she is obeying her nature, and the fact that she is the most efficient hunter that I’ve ever seen is something that nature rejoices in, but at the same time, I like birds, and the thought of any species losing a baby is anathema to me.

The solution is not to have a cat, I suppose, but she is such an important part of our lives that we would miss her terribly were we to give her away. She would make an excellent farm cat, and would thoroughly enjoy the experience, but we are too selfish for that. She’s *ours*!

So, I apologise to the bird population, but you are going to have to nest smarter. Admittedly quite a lot smarter, as Mogret’s pretty intelligent. Sorry.