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Newsletter Snippets

This is an extract from our March 2012 newsletter; it's a regular feature written by the very entertaining Faith and always ending with a witty Limerick penned by her husband Richard.  Together they look after numerous long stay and sponsored cats who provide plenty of material for Faith and Richard to write about.  For those who aren't aware, the lovely June, a founder of Cat Welfare, tragically died in a road accident in mid December.  June was passionate about the charity and was loved by all who knew her.


TAILS FROM THE FENS

     The season of peace and goodwill 2011 passed, overshadowed by bereavement. There was among the group a sense of bewilderment, of disbelief – that there must have been some mistake. But there had been no mistake- it was true: June had been taken from us. We received her Christmas card two days after the accident – I broke down.

     However, where there are animals involved, their needs take precedence. No time for grieving. Dawn and her husband, and Andrew, as ever, kind and dependable took on the unenviable task of relocating June’s cats at the farm. This was carried out in the extreme cold of December when the days were short and conditions treacherous.

     After Christmas the first to arrive with us was BJ, a big beautiful ginger boy. He seemed subdued and withdrawn. Two days later, he was taken to the Vet. not having eaten since his arrival. He died the following day. The Vet. was unable to find anything wrong, and since this was a cat that identified strongly with June, we assumed that he died of grief. He was not the first animal that we have come across to die of a broken heart.

     On the same day, the ‘phone rang. Thus arrived Smudgy. I’m becoming convinced that every year God decides to send us a Christmas present. She is a delicate little white cat with faint tabby markings and a pair of enormous grey blue eyes that look as if they are rimmed with kohl. She sat demurely on the bedroom windowsill, her tiny paws together and her tail curled round them. Husband-with-heart-of-gold came in. “Isn’t she pretty? What’s her name?” “Smudgy”, I told him. “Smudgy”? You can’t call a cat bl…y Smudgy” he exclaimed. “No. She’s too pretty. It has to be something Christmassy. I know – “Mistletoe”. And so “Mistletoe” it was. She took a while to adjust to us, and remains shy, preferring her own company, except at night when she curls up next to Richard.

     McCavity has come on in leaps and bounds – literally – he leaps onto the bed and bounds up to me. If I don’t happen to be there then Richard (Husband-with-heart-of-gold) makes an acceptable temporary substitute.

      Digby sleeps at the bottom of the bed. “Digby”? Oh! Sorry, I forgot to mention him. It was about the New Year. The ‘phone rang. One of our helpers brought Digby straight over to us. We put the carrier onto the bed and gingerly opened its door to let him out. I say “gingerly” because of the amount of hissing and spitting that was coming from the interior. Slowly, a head emerged: large, black with a white mask and a pair of narrowed green eyes that shot venom and a look that said “Don’t touch me. No cuddles. Don’t even think about it!” So, we don’t. He came with a letter from the daughter of his previous family – it was unspeakably sad. The father of the family has developed an illness, and on the advice of the medical profession it was decided that this poor animal had to be re-homed. After 15 years with the same family, it is no wonder that initially he was finding it difficult to adjust. However, this morning he wandered into the conservatory and sat on the table in a patch of sunshine, watching me checking and watering the over-wintering plants.

      That reminds me: in the recent severe weather, when the temperature in the conservatory plunged to -2c on two consecutive nights, I lost all my carnations and pinks. Is there a kind reader who could spare any?  I would take cuttings from them to be sold at the Rose Fair in the summer, and at other fund-raising venues. Add to that my usual plea – any plants, please donate. We can collect.

     An update. Robyn (A.K.A. Little Furry) and Suki (A.K.A. Little Black Furry) both continue to thrive. Robyn thinks that she is the only thing of any importance in her Daddy’s life. Unfortunately, so does Suki. There have recently been some frank and honest exchanges of views.

 

MISTLETOE

At Christmas another cat came.

She needed a Christmassy name.

Not Holly, nor Chloe.

Not Molly, nor Snowy.

So Mistletoe’s who she became.