Ben and I had a nap this afternoon.
The wind had got up again and Julien was using the Karcher to blast clean the tiles on the terrace.
We were escaping the noise.
Ben is a rescue cat and gift from a kind cat person who–like Old Mother Hubbard with her children–had so many cats he didn’t know what to do!
Ben is a mover.
He comes into a room at the fast trot with a sense of purpose–not to stay long, though; often to snack briefly but intently on his favorite dry food, then off at a scamper and a skip to a siesta–like this afternoon.
He can also be perfectly still.
Stillness for an actor is an effective tool, it grabs the attention; Ben’s stillness is innate, no artifice involved, but it is stunning to witness.
When he sleeps he sleeps the sleep of centuries–he does not stir when stroked–asleep.
He got “stuck” on the roof a couple of nights ago–in truth he wasn’t stuck, just being a bit weedy.
The roof in question slopes down to family tombs in the graveyard–the friendly resting places of some of our late neighbors.
The cemetery is a favorite playground for the cats–plenty of places from which to say “BOO”.
Ben used the grandest tomb to leap onto the roof of the dependence, then decided to call the “fire brigade” rather than descend by the same route.
It took our newest arrival–Midnight–to shame him into taking the leap by showing him the way.
Midnight, or “Fluffernutter” as Meredith often calls him, is normally Ben’s shadow–in awe of him, one could say–following him everywhere much to Ben’s disdain; that night Midnight showed his mettle.
Young Midnight is long-haired, black and dark brown. He was left after dark (near midnight, in fact) in the courtyard–a small bundle of bones and fur with two anxious staring eyes.
He too was a “donation”–anonymous, this time.
We must be known as a “cat haven”– this is not the first time it’s happened.
Our “Top Cat”, Beau, Meredith found in the garage. Someone had popped him through the catflap–well, better than drowning.
He sat in the palm of my hand, purring for dear life. How could he know then that he’d fallen in the butter dish?
So our resident (indoor) three, all relative youngsters, are Beau, Ben and Midnight–in that order of their arrival.
We also have two outdoor cats–a mother and daughter and a piebald, Peanut–whom I have never liked.
(Is it allowed not to like a cat?)
Enough to put on a musical!
[A house full of cats Part Two to follow!]