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RevHello everyone. My name is Rev, and I am the newest member of the Stutley family. I am about eight years old – I say about, because a cat has to have some secrets. I’ve been told that I am part Abyssinian. My new female servant came to the animal refuge place where I had been imprisoned for the last 4 months, and simply fell in love with me! In fact, she was so smitten with me that she came back that afternoon and took me home with her. 

The transition was relatively smooth. The first night I slept on their bed and simply purred all night. That’s when they gave me my new name. They say it’s because my engine is always revving. I’m pretty easy to get along with and will do anything – and I mean ANYTHING for food. Even learn to go through cat flaps!

I’ve been here for 4 weeks now, and I am still testing my boundaries. The female servant seems to have a cleaner kitchen now that I am in charge. If she leaves anything on the bench or table, I jump up and see if it is edible. If it is, I eat it. But as the days go by, the kitchen is quickly cleared. So I’m guessing that they know this, because I’ve been too crafty for them to catch me in the act. I was more than a little indignant when I was made to wear a bell for a while. But I soon took it off, only to have it put back on again. So next time I took it off, I made sure it was safely hidden. They are still looking for it :) 

I am about to write a letter to the refuge people to let them know that I have settled in well. Perhaps I will allow my servant to reproduce it here for you next week. I’ll think about it…

Rev

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Charles graveIt’s been five weeks since I said goodbye to my big little furry friend, Monsieur Charles de Cat. I still miss him, and find myself hesitating at different times, expecting him to be there. We made a cute little grave for him, and decorated it with a pot of Cat Grass.

IMG_0052Charles 1Charles was the funniest cat. When I first started working out with weights, I would get down on the floor, on my back ready to lift the dumbbells, and there he would be. His nose just inches from mine as he looked me in the eye. He would sniff my face so closely that I could feel his breath and whiskers. Inevitably he would make me laugh and I would pat him, hoping he would move on. But he never did. I would do the entire floor routine with him curled up leaning against my head. I realise now that he was probably checking on me because it was not normal for me to be on the floor. 

I had the oddest dream a week ago… My husband was standing there holding his phone and he says, ‘There is no point going to the Cat Haven, because there are no male ginger cats by the name of Ryan.’ Maybe I should take a drive out there to make sure… Ryan? Where did that come from?

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Some of you may have heard that I said goodbye to my best 4 legged fiend a few days ago. He was 16 yo, a BIG ginger cat, and I called him Monsieur Charles de Cat. In light of that, I just couldn’t resist posting this….

Happiness is

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Monday. May you have a blessed week.

DJ

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 Meet the two characters of today’s family story. Monsieur Charles de Cat, and Australian Shepherd, Paige.

Last summer was long, hot and dry. Well in my opinion it was. I’m not a fan of summer, so every summer is long, hot and dry. To conserve water, I had the wash water drain into my laundry sink and I would carry buckets of water through the house to my thirsty plants. I’d been doing it for months, so why things went so wrong this particular day, I just don’t know.

There I was, carrying two buckets brimming with water and Paige was trotting along in front of me like she always did. We were on our last trip for the day, up the passage, into the family room… and Paige suddenly stopped. I felt a bit like a fully loaded Mac truck, bearing down on a little Mini Cooper. I braced for the collision, lifting the heavy buckets in the vein hope of avoiding a spill. I almost pulled it off…! The bucket in my right hand just clipped her back-end. Two things happened simultaneously. Water sloshed out of the bucket all over the tiled floor, and I yelled, ‘Paaaaaige!’

She panicked, spun around to get away, lost traction and went down on her side in the pool of water. In her haste to get up, she came up under my second bucket, sloshing more water out. I yelled again, and she took off to go hide in the study. The cat had been curled up asleep on a chair at the dinning table, now he was spooked. He shot off the chair,  came flying around the corner, straight into the pool of water and completely lost it. Here’s this big ginger cat, sliding across the floor on his side, through the puddle, legs and tail spinning wildly, and slams into me, still standing there with my two buckets. He finally gets traction and disappears from sight. I’m left standing in the middle of the puddle laughing so hard I could hardly hold the buckets. Ah, pets… such a source of entertainment.

DJ

(c) DJ Stutley 2012

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When anticipation can be a bad thing…

A few months ago I made myself feel sad just by anticipating something that hasn’t happened yet. My big ginger cat – Mousier Charles deCat – is now 14 years old and I wondered what life would be like without him.

As I stroked his fur I told him how much he meant to me and how much I’d miss him. This continued for several days and I became sadder every time I looked at him.

Then it dawned on me… I was spoiling what time I had with, by anticipating something that hadn’t happened yet.

I stopped dreading the inevitable and started living with the present. And months later, he’s still here sleeping 22 hours a day just like he’s always done! I will continue to enjoy his presence day-by-day and face what comes day-by-day instead of fretting about something that hasn’t happened.

DJ

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