Letouttoplay

Life, photos but not the universe

In the past

I have tried, in the past, to make my posts and photos and stuff about ltuae follow some kind of thread.  Just recently, there have been too many of them (threads, life, universes, etc) so I’m cutting loose from chronology and all that and rambling randomly.  Um.  Didn’t some truly excellent writer warn against alliteration.  Oh well.

We knew that when we came home there would be no small black and white cat waiting to be collected from the cattery because we’d had a difficult couple of phone calls (limping, weight loss, cancer, probably in the liver and spreading rapidly) with the cattery and the vet while we were away.  They tell me she was still purring when she went limp and knowing her I’m sure that’s true.  And no, I wouldn’t have wanted her to hang on till Saturday when we came home.  I do wish I could have stroked her little chin one more time though.

We had a life changing discussion, once, long ago as a family.  Basically, the rest of them overruled me (I thought no one else would ever do any feeding or excercising and blow me!  I was right) and we got ourselves two cats and a dog.  Nutmeg, the nutcase came after the two cats because we thought they needed to get entrenched before being overwhelmed by an idiot dog and also, he had to recover from having his balls off before we could have him at home.  So we brought little black and white Tosca first and the first day she was let out, she got stuck in one of the big oak trees across the road.  Cat-dinner time came and went and I got a bit worried and shouted a Tosca style comment across the fields (I’ve always been good at imitating animals).  After a while I got a response.  Of course she was saying “I’m stuck in the tree, third from the end across the road, come and get me” but all I heard was SQUAWK!!!!  So me and Tosca squawked at each other until I’d identified the exact tree and then, as dark fell, the entire Bardsley family set off across the fields with a ladder, a cardboard box, a torch and some string.  I think Eldest was the one that climbed the tree, put her in the cardboard box and brought her down (and got scratched for his pains).  There was continuous squawking. (We think Tosca had some Siamese in her ancestry – the kink in her tail as well as the squawking suggested it).  Anyway, me and Tosca had a bond from that first responsive squawk.

We had been told that Tosca had had a litter of kittens before she was sent to the Cat rescue place.  Personally, I can’t understand why anyone would ever have sent her anywhere. she was the nicest and least objectionable person of a furry nature that I’ve ever encountered.  If offered the opportunity, she would climb into your arms and turn herself upside down, revealing a surprising number of limbs.  Then she would purr and dribble a lot.  Otherwise she just spent a lot of time being very prettily black and white and floating up to the top of any very high place that took her fancy (because even more than most cats she knew how to fly).  While Mandu, (her feline companion) would spend most of her life killing  things efficiently, Tosca probably preferred to sit on top of things.  Her apparent flight, from floor to any extremely high point in the kitchen was only curtailed after a distressing stomach upset, by me filling in all her leaping places with old kitchen junk.

Oh I dunno.  They were all very good companions and terrific characters.  We loved them all.  Tosca was just my special friend.  I really miss her inquiring and completely non-judgmental gaze.  And stroking her her upturned offered face.  And having and armful of  upside down legs.  And stroking her pretty, upturned, expectant face with both hands.  (No, I don’t miss the dribbling- I’m not an idiot).

Anyway, Barney informs me that Nutmeg (the dog, is buried with a cat on either side of him.  This is so – um.  Well, Nutmeg spent many years in terror of the cross-eyed gazes of the two cats so no change there.  The cats?  Are they bothered?)

I couldn’t find the photos of Tosca’s mouse hunt in the larder so I can only offer a link to the relevant blog post.

Damnit, I shall miss that cat.  Oh well, already I do. Thing is, there could be no replacement for that slightly squinting, green gaze nor for the upside-down cuddling and dribbling and the proffered chin for scratching and stroking.  I loved all three of them, the idiot dog, the efficient, tiger-striped hunter and the piebald, dilettante  charmer.  But the thing is, me and Tosca, we understood each other.  Oh well, probably we just knew how to get each others’ attention.  I wish I could have her back.

P1030891-CS5

Goodbye pretty, kitten-cat.

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May 24, 2013 - Posted by | Uncategorized

11 Comments »

  1. Bugger! Earlier, I had to wipe coffee off my keys. Now it’s tears.
    So sorry you couldn’t say goodbye to the pusskin. Here, have a tissue…xx

    Comment by dinahmow | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  2. She was always the one who was there when I came to feed her, in all her tiny neatness.

    Comment by Thursday | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  3. Sorry to hear a out Tosca Mig. Such a shame our furry little chums live on such a different time scale.
    I see Ziggi got home to several additional pussy cats – is it a sign?

    Comment by Rog | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  4. So sorry to hear about your lovely Tosca, Mig. And especially sorry that you can’t have her back… We love them so much, sometimes it seems very unfair. I had to smile at Nutmeg having a cat on each side, no escaping those stares now!

    Comment by Carol | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  5. I’m so sorry, Mig. There are some animal friends whom you never stop missing.

    Comment by Z | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  6. 😦 xxx

    Comment by Linda | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  7. Thank you all. She was the best – aren’t all of our pets the best! (And I can so imagine that Thursday xxx)

    Comment by Mig | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  8. Oh Mig…makes my heart hurt for ya. She was graced with the perfect human being and you were graced with the perfect kitty…I’m glad your paths crossed. *hugs*

    Comment by Mel | May 24, 2013 | Reply

  9. Oh sorry, sorry.

    Comment by rosie | May 25, 2013 | Reply

  10. Thank you Mel and rosie.

    Comment by Mig | May 28, 2013 | Reply

  11. So sorry to learn of your recent loss, we fear that our own black and white ball of warm fur will not see out the year but then again we have been fearing this same thing for the past few years especially since she began falling off things mostly things that she really shouldn’t have trouble staying on.

    Comment by ladyinredagain | May 28, 2013 | Reply


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