Meredith opens the front door and in with a gust of cold air comes a rush of cats–an explosion of fur–on the move.
Not an unusual sight here at feeding time.
Five out of six make their entry: Beau, Ben, Midnight, Lily and Blackie. (Three blacks, one white and one tuxedo.)
Number six, Peanut, will slink in later when the others have had their fill.
Peanut
Survival has been Peanut’s game since she first insinuated herself into the group years ago.
Slinker would have been a good name for her.
She convinces herself she’s invisible to the other cats by moving forward in slow motion–one paw imperceptibly lifted in front of another.
“Don’t look at me, I’m not moving–in fact I’m not here!”
She can be bold and hang out in plain sight too, on a radiator or a mantelpiece–staring down a challenge with her unhelpful hooded-eyes.
I’m not alone in never warming to her–none of the other cats like her. She upsets Meredith by stalking birds at the feeder though she has access to plenty of food.
She’s tolerated as an “outsider”–though Ben enjoys terrorising Peanut from time to time, chasing her off.
Having cats is a little like a play by Harold Pinter–it’s all about Power and Control–about ways of maintaining the upper hand.
When their paths cross at feeding time Lily and Blackie (mother and daughter) show no hint of knowing each other.
Never a “Hi there! how’s your day been?” nudge, nudge.
Just a jealous circling of the food on offer.
It’s a tough world–out there.
(It was the same with our late head cat Pippa– “Mother of all cats”–and her offspring Marmalade and Butterscotch, all gingers, of fond memory. When they predeceased her she showed no sign of noticing.
In fact Lily, new “Mother of all cats” since Pippa’s departure, was a remarkable parent to Blackie and the three litters she brought to us. (Nonetheless after the third litter, we took her to the vets to be sterilized.)
White cats are always susceptible to sun burn (and often deaf). And after the hot, sunny summer 2003 Lily’s ears were permanently damaged as she carted her litters from safety point to safety point.
We suspect that Lily has another home, over the way, across the fields, in the blue beyond–but where exactly we’ve never pinpointed. She remains a regular visitor, her white form visible in the evening gloom coming across the green pasture.
She rarely hangs around for long, though lately after supper she stealthily climbs the little ramp into the vacant hen house in the courtyard, for an overnight stay.
Since Pip died, the cat-dynamics have changed.
Blackie used to hang out under a huge topiary bush at the end of the garden.
As a direct consequence of Pip’s absence, she’s becoming less timid and more demanding.
Just this month, at age 13, she has dared to leap up on the bed on cold winter nights and sleep on the duvet with the other cats.
Black is the new hue, (apart from wretched Slinker, that is); our GINGER days are (sadly) over–for the moment.
Our Pip was a modest cat, but a BIG presence and definitely Top Cat.
Always found the higher perch–often the kitchen table (the only cat with that privilege)–and would see off any challengers with a long, low, growling hiss that she might have learned from a snake.
She’s buried in the garden now and the pecking order has been rearranged.
Beau wears the mantel now and knows he is Top Cat.
Ben seems content with his modestly elevated position, second-in-command to his adored older step-brother.
Midnight is happy to be allowed in the same room with these esteemed Giants of the cat world.
“This is me practising for the day when I’m Top Cat”
And that’s how the hierarchy stands these days.
The males are all young cats and rank is forgotten when there’s a Rumble in the garden.
The sun comes out and the garden becomes an irregular race circuit. Up the Judas tree, down the fig!
Round and round they go, leaping and jumping, a sprint of cats until someone gets too rough–and it becomes less of a game.
Survival of the fittest–or rather the one who best times his retreat up to the tree top.
We now take responsibility for SIX cats.
A collective noun to describe them?
A barrel? A pile? A rush? A mew? A herd? A slink? A skip? A stretch of cats?
Certainly not a handful, for the wonder of cats is that they are so good at taking care of themselves.
Robin Ellis 
You have a veritable clowder of cats! 🙂
I love reading about your cats..our cats pecking order has changed since we lost our two males last year. They are fascinating animals and I hate it when people say that they have no personality. We try to imagine what our cats would be like if they were human..we have a stroppy actress and a lazy beach bum amongst the five of them !
I read this update with a smile and chuckle, as I am now – as of mid-March – down to the very last one of an inordinately large crew (slew?) of resident cats over the past two decades (four decades, if I was to date back to my first years as a young homeowner, five-plus if all the way back to childhood). They are a wonder, these felines. Such mysterious, yet marvelous, creatures they are, all with distinct personalities. They do wrap themselves around our hearts (if not our legs), don’t they? Thanks for sharing this review of your current ensemble.
Six?? I would call that an insanity of cats. 🙂
That can be how it feels!
Love cats, we presently have two siamese (I’ve had 17 cats in the past, all different characters in their own way….) I once watched a programme which followed a mother and daughter cat, both raising their own litters all in together – one day the senior mum cat was out hunting and in her absence, her daughter moved all the kittens to another den, mum cat couldn’t find them, and 2 days later, she walked past them all as tho she had never known them………just 2 days for them to completely forget :/…
Another enjoyable post of your cat world. I got to thinking since you and Meredith are so very much into cats, I thought perhaps you might enjoy “The Engineers guide to cats”. It is a bit of dry American humor. They have quite a few you tube videos they have made. Here is a link to the first one. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHXBL6bzAR4 My husband and I get a real chuckle watching them.
Thanks, Andrea.
Hi Robin!
Are all of the cats fixed? Just curious.
Thanks,
Andrea Brickey
They are.
Beautiful pictures of your cats, all different characters. Peanut has such a lovely marked coat! Also wonderful Pippa pics in your new book, my favourite is her sitting in a bowl?! Beautiful memories!
I enjoyed reading about your cats. Thank you for sharing.
Delightful story. How about a confusion of cats?
I like a confusion of cats–thank you.
Thank you Robin for the delightful observations- and photographs, of your cats!
How about a superiority of cats? My daughter’s cats, Wilma and Wilfred are most superior!
Best rewards,
Fran Shaw
Superiority is accurate, Fran–thanks.
They are a CLOWDER or a GLARING of cats!
(I Iove how you love your cats!!)
I have a community of outcasts in my back yard, and yes, one that no one likes…his name is Ruff and he is one nasty little poop.
but someone has to take care of them! Its me, the cray cat lady!
A Glaring–mean!–thanks Denise.
A Professor of mine was a Pinter fan, who was know for his breaks in dialog “A Pinter pause,” the Professor would say. Now I find myself giggling reading about Peanut slinking in “on Pinter paws…”
Nice one, Maureen!
Your cats come and go, inside and outside. Aren’t there predators outside? My cat must stay in or the coyotes or a hawk would have her for lunch.
No coyotes that we know of in SW France!–hawks yes and they are a danger. Our cats are too big now–we trust.
Sorry if my comment was posted twice. I couldn’t tell that either one was posted.
A Paradise of cats is what it’s always meant to me – not sure my neighbours agree though. Oh well.
Thank you for the lovely stories, Robin.
Paradise–thanks, Linda–the list grows.
Hi Robin! Lovely cats! A group of cats is called a clowder. A group of kittens is a kindle.
Clowder and Kindle–thank you, Margaret. Meredith thinks a group of kittens should be a cuddle!
I agree with Meredith!
You and Meredith certainly have a melange of cats. Origin of melange
French, from Old French meslance, from mesler, to mix.
I am learning something each day–thanks!
You certainly have a melange of cats. French: a mixture; a medley.
“a mélange of tender vegetables and herbs”
Both nice–a medley–lovely.
Aren’t cats just wonderful, we once had seven! When my daughter Julie left school she trained as a veterinary nurse, subsequently, she would come home with sad stories of stray kittens taken to the vets, (some the result of road collisions). “but they need a home” Julie insisted, so one, by one they arrived home with her, another was given sanctuary when my other daughters school teacher was moving into a flat where pets were not allowed, so we adopted her very large black and white cat, Sam. In total, we shared our home with Sam, Rupert, Thomas, Bilbo, Tiger Tail, Jerry and Ben, four gingers, the other three silver tabbies, and black and white, I have photos of them all cuddled up on the bed, not a flea amongst them, Julie made sure of that! That was all of thirty five years ago, we now share our home with Totti, our Wire hair Fox Terrier, a very loving, loyal little girl. We live near the main road, quiet in the winter, but very busy during the Summer, people visiting Lands End and the Minack Theatre at Porthcurno, so too busy to risk having a cat, but one day, we hope to have a ginger cat back in our lives, there has always been one all my life.
Thank you, Beryl–lovely story of gone-by cats.
Lovely cats with lovely background pictures!!!!
Sent from my iPad
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Great pictures of the crew… After living with us for 10 years, Scamper has finally decided it’s OK to sleep on the bed at our feet. I think it’s because Sassy–who rules the bed–often wakes me in the early morning hours for a snack, and he doesn’t want to miss out!! 🙂
Hee! Can’t tell you how very much I enjoy your posts! And wonderful recipes. I had to laugh at your reference to the Harold Pinter play… I have been saying for years that my suburban neighborhood in spring is like “West Side Story” with cats.
That one called Peanut DOES have a slightly sinister, owly stare… 😉
Happiness of the season to you and yours…
Hi! I love food and cats equally, so your posts are a delight.
Thank you.
Thank you, Cathy.
A band of cats. That’s it! 😉
Nice one, Robin. Only, give Peanut another chance. Be patient, give him more time. Someday, when you least expect it, he will jump on your lap and push his head against your hand or arm. And you’ll be hooked. Cats rule! 😄
My husband loves gingers, he once turned a ginger away as it wasn’t the right shade of ginger! Woman at the CPL thought he was bonkers. We have 2 gingers one a white n ginger slugger (Thomas O Mallet lookalike) and the other a part mog part Bengal. Hes gorgeous to look at but aloof. Also have a fat tabby who’s gone missing. It is hard to like some animals especially if they don’t love you back or have a unlikable personality.
Beautiful, clear photos. You are lucky to have all the cats.
A Cataclysm of felines? . . .
Cat-aclysm!–OK, Sophie-Jane! Thanks.
Who needs television when you can watch cats? (OK, maybe that is not quite the thing to say to an actor…) Anyway, Robin, I enjoyed your latest about the cats! Chris
Thanks, Chris–they are a delight and in a different configuration since the death of Pippa–mother of all cats!