Wordless Wednesday



Fall at 3 Fountains in Vilvoorde


Isegrim showing off his raspy tongue


Tummy Tuesday

Freya’s debut… and of course she had to do it in the most leisurely fashion, now that she has the luxury of doing so.

Freya's tummy

Lovely tummy though, don’t you agree ?

Other glorious fluffy tummies can be admired at LisaViolet’s Dairy.

This Stress

It was déjà vu all over again: the Mistress enjoying a quiet meal at her computer, and suddenly one of the Feline Denizens enters the House of Chaos whilst emitting plaintive and clearly distressed yowls and meows at the top of his lungs. It was the same sound Zorro called out just hours before his death. But this time it was his black brother Loup-Garou. Who was swaying on his feet and panting visibly. Not a good sign that. Not a good sign at all.

It being Saturday morning and the usual market taking place on the square where the Man In White has his office and home, it was impossible to drive the poor kitty there. The Mistress wrestled Loup-Garou into the travel-basket, put on her shoes and coat, grabbed her purse, and set off a-foot. Now, walking through the streets with a howling basket is not something you will enjoy on any morning, but on a Saturday morning, when many simians are still trying to sleep off the result from the previous night’s reveling, it does not exactly make you popular. Still, it had to be endured. And to make matters even more interesting: The Mistress suffers from ME and Fibromyalgia. Carrying loads -especially a 5-kilo load of distressed kitty- is not easily done when your muscles scream out in searing agony after just 30 seconds. The walk would take 10 minutes.

We did arrive safely and timely at the MIW’s office though. But we had to wait there at first. He had been called away on an emergency himself and because of the ongoing market the poor man had to go on foot too. But when he came back, arms and hands covered with fresh scratches, his immediate and undivided attention was all Loup-Garou’s. Who was still howling and panting. Which made the Man In White grab for his stethoscope. “Panting,” he said, “is usually the sign of a heart condition”.

He listened.
And listened.
Then listened some more.
But the slow onset of a relieved smile on his face was enough for The Mistress to start breathing again. No, the heart did sound well and good. No sign of a valve-failure which he had dreaded. No fluttering or rustling. Just the normal thumpity-thumpity heart-beat of a cat stressed out by this impromptu outing. But the swaying and panting had to come from somewhere, and Loup-Garou was still howling as if the world was coming to an end and the very Heavens would come crashing down on his little bewhiskered head. There had to be a reason for this strange behaviour. “Does he make that sound often ?” No, it was the first time I heard it coming from him. “Clearly a distress-call. But for what ?”

Upon closer examination the feline’s inner and outer systems seemed to be in fine working order. The mouth was opened (which provoked a silent warning from one paw showing a formidable array of claws – but a warning only, a trait all of my furry babies seem to develop and which endears them enormously to our MIW), the eyes were examined, the temperature was taken… everything normal. There was -though- a bloodied scratch on his nose-bridge. A clear sign that he had been fighting again. The Mistress is used to that. Loup-Garou has them all the time. But to the Man In White the story became more clear now: “He has been fighting. The other must have surprised him somehow, and caused a huge adrenaline-rush. His body can’t cope with that. And so he panics. Pants. Howls. It’s just stress.”
Hyperventilation, feline style.

With a smile, because he loves kitties who don’t try to gouge his eyes out or disembowel him when he’s administering tender care, the MIW reached for a syringe and deftly jabbed something into the black cat’s buttocks. “That will do for a week, that stuff,” he grinned. It turned out to be some kind of a mild tranquilizer. It did put an immediate stop to the howling, which was a great relief. But then we had to wrestle Loup-Garou back into the travel-cage, no mean feat with a 10-year-old feline who knows all the tricks and how to use his body-mass. Fortunately the Man In White is an experienced veterinarian, he has his own tricks too.

Loup-Garou was meowing during our walk back home. But this sound was clearly just a complaint, the big cat whining about the unfamiliar confinement, and no longer the horrifying howl of utter terror.

And now The Mistress is aching all over. The price a ME/Fibro-mite pays for sudden and gross physical excertion and stress.
But would you let the kitty who softly snores on top of your head during the night possibly die on you ?
Hellooooo pain…. old friend….

Picture below: sauntering by, at ease… more or less…

Loup-Garou sauntering by

Is it weekend again ? Wow.

That means we’re having an appointment again over at the Friday Ark, and The Carnival of the Cats hosted by Cats in Maryland, Weekend Cat Blogging done by CatSynth and the Bad Kitty Cats Festival of Chaos which takes place over at the Pet’s Garden Blog.

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Wordless Wednesday



Autumn leaves



Tummy Tuesday

Isegrim is surely hogging the ultimate spotlight again. That is, the Sun. But oh, how he deserves the attention !! And how he revels in it !!!


Other feline stomach fluff can be admired over at LisaViolet’s Dairy.

Frolicky friends

Oh my. Oh dear. The whole year the river runs empty and suddenly there’s a deluge. Scarcely had Freya and Isegrim wormed themselves into the House and Hearts of Chaos, then there are more feline kitties coming a’knocking. A whole tribe no less.

It seems that Not-Franky and Almost-Franky (or maybe Frankemie) have been breeding, and their brood consists of at least 2 lovely more-white-than-black kittens. And somehow Rataplan Frankenstein The Mobile Disaster Area must have left his mark upon the local feline population as well before his sudden, unfortunate and ultimately fatal confrontation with Mr. Electricity several years ago, because a young tomcat -looking very much like him- is roaming the neighbourhood now. And for some unfathomable reason the youngsters all converged in the Garden of Chaos, and played and frolicked here.

Which makes Hrimnir ecstatic with joy: so many playmates, so many interesting games. And none of the new kitties bigger than he is so that easy victory is ever ensured. He lost no time at all and started to caper around with the young ones. Clearly the Peacemaker has not lost his magic touch !
But it leaves The Mistress with a hopeless task, for she is wont to name each and every kitty in the neighbourhood, and the sudden influx of no less than 3 new kittens doth sorely stress her creative abilities. Oh well. And thus the naming begins…

We don’t know the gender yet of the two siblings, so neutral names are called for. I’d settle for Dash and Flash, because these kitties are rather swift when spooked. But the brown tabby tomcat… hmmm… Conkers should do. After all, he clearly has two of them, and the name sounds like “conquers”, which he surely attempts.

So suddenly the Garden of Chaos resembled a big flea-circus (and I’m -alas- not speaking metaphorically here) with all them kitties a-dashing and a-smashing. There was lots of incredible pounces to be admired, and many a cunning plan being executed. Fur flying everywhere. Not to mention bits and pieces of kitty. But none of it in anger, to be sure. Only when Bean Sidhe tried to join the fun did the little ones hiss and cringe, for in their eyes he resembles a giant and they don’t yet know he’s gentle.

How gentle ? Freya found out the same day. She’s ever anxious when that huge cat approaches her only-begotten son, but on that day she only had to sit back and enjoy the scenery because Bean Sidhe has discovered a kitten-safe method of play: Obsidian’s armour.
Obsidian is a Fighting Robot that we’re repairing and rebuilding. We took the armour off, which looks like a big black shell, put it on the ground in the Garden of Chaos, and the feline friends have noticed that this can play an excellent role in their games. Bean Sidhe hides within the shell, and in front of it little Isegrim will sit ready. Then Bannikins will reach with a paw underneath the shell and Isegrim will cheerfully attack it. No harm possible, and the concerned dam really did have the leisure to sit back and enjoy the view.

The keen observer of feline activity surely knows this: kittens can play without so much as a sound. They don’t screech, they don’t yap at each other like woofies do. They stalk and creep and pounce in a hunter’s silence and the only part of them that shouts “AHA !” when they do spring an attack is the body. And after that they jump and bounce and roll. They disperse again, go lie in hiding, and the game begins anew.

It’s restful to observe kittens at play. They spend so much energy..

Picture below: Conkers joins the fun but Isegrim has his doubts.

Conkers and Isegrim

Isegrim discovers The Hidden Paw, you can see it too… slightly to the left above his left ear !

The Hidden Paw

Weekend again ? My… time does fly doesn’t it ? We’re happy to see our furriends again over at the Friday Ark, the Carnival of the Cats hosted by Life From A Cat’s Perspective, Weekend Cat Blogging at Cat’s In Maryland, and the Bad Kitty Cats Festival of Chaos done by Diamond’s Lair.

Wordless Wednesday



Autumn colours



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