A Cat-o-lick Dilemma...

As I have said, I am out for long periods during the day, and I don't want Monsignor Furretti to get lonely and bored - the flat will be trashed in a fortnight if I leave her completely alone. My initial plan - get two kittens from the same litter - was basically foiled when Catzinger croaked. Today I went to see if I could find a friend for Furretti.

I managed to find a cat of roughly the same age - not as easy as I'd have thought - and brought her home today. She's a black and white shorthair, very cute to look at, but she is incredibly timid. Every time I try and approach her, she shies away. In fact, she gets pretty nervous if I even turn to look at her, and scoots behind the armchair out of sight. I'd be happy to let her take her time, but she is wandering around, miaowing in a very plaintive manner, probably crying for her own litter-mates.

Anyway, this little kitty is another female. Her back paws are white "socks" while her front paws have a few white toes each. She has a white nose and muzzle, but a black chin, and a white bib on the front of her chest. She is about four months old, I think - just a little younger than Furretti.

Meanwhile, Furretti is throwing a strop. She is fascinated by the new arrival, but growls, hisses and spits in a most unwelcoming, antisocial way each time she approaches the newcomer. The hackles are definitely up, and battle will probably commence when I'm trying to get my much-needed beauty sleep.

I know, I know... it just needs time and patience...

I haven't come up with a suitable name. I had considered Catzinger II, but this kitty really doesn't look like a Catzinger. Cardinal Miaowro Piacenza was His Hermeneuticalness' suggestion, or Monsignor Guido Miaowrini was another of my ideas.

I've decided that I need to open it up to the com-box. Ground rules are simple - I don't want a name that could be considered a "real" person's name (like George, or Thomas) and it must be distinct from Furretti.

Thinking caps on, people...

Bishop Gene Robinson To Retire...

According to the report on the excellent LifeSite News, Episcopalian bishop Gene Robinson has announced he will be retiring "due to the strain of the controversy."

Ah, diddums...

Felix Fidei Defensor...?

It appears that Monsignor Furretti has taken her blessing seriously...

I had a copy of The Catholic Times which I had been looking at purely because I wanted to see if Monsignor Basil Loftus had really written an article stating that Christ's presence after the Resurrection wasn't a physical presence but a spiritual one. (He had.) This was before Fr. Finigan's excellent blog post on the subject... and it pretty much said everything I was thinking (and more) so I never got around to publishing my own post.

I also had a copy of The Remnant, which I get from Tom, one of our visiting schola members.

Monsignor Furretti, in one of the mad half-hours common to all kittendom, threw both papers onto the floor, examined them, and promptly shredded The Catholic Times, leaving The Remnant intact. I happened to tweet the event, and was told "Photos, or it didn't happen!"

So...

Red Maria thought Monsignor Loftus might consider issuing a writ against Monsignor Furretti... 

Towards Advent...

Last Saturday saw the tenth Towards Advent Festival of Catholic Culture at Westminster Cathedral Hall.

Despite having wanted to support this excellent event in previous years, I've always been doing something else, so I was delighted to realise that I could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and pop in en route to the Latin Mass Society's Annual Requiem.

I had intended to drive to North Greenwich and take the tube in to Central London... however, in the end, I decided to keep driving all the way to Victoria. I made excellent time - managing to miss some major demonstration or other which was due to close Parliament Square for most of the afternoon. Finding a place to park proved a little tricky. In desperation, I parked on a single yellow line, praying that it meant the same in Westminster as everywhere else (ie. restricted until 12noon on Saturdays - it was 1pm) and started hopping along the side of the Cathedral on my way to the hall.

I then spotted a free parking space which hadn't been there two minutes before when I had driven past. I was in a bit of a quandary... Should I go back and move my car to the better parking space (risking someone else swiping it while I tried), and maybe losing the space I already had, or should I stay put? While I hovered, Fr. Nicholas Schofield greeted me. This was just too good an opportunity to miss, and I begged him to guard the space for me, while I hopped back to my car. When I eventually got myself parked, Fr. Schofield told me he'd had to chase off two prospective space-snatchers!

I had deliberately brought coins for the parking meter. Alas, I realised that the meter in question was one of the new card-only ones... and I didn't have my cards with me. Just as I was about to panic, a friend from Blackfen, Wendy, turned up with her boys (the boys were going to serve at the Requiem Mass later) and offered to pay with her card... upon which we discovered that parking there was free at weekends, so we were both happy!

The Festival appeared to be going really well, and was extremely busy with people buying Christmas cards, Advent calendars, gifts, books and so on. I went round the stalls, asking if I could take photos, and chatting to various people I recognised, or who recognised me!

The Catholic Herald had a stall, and lots of people were stopping to chat and to collect a free newspaper... I felt a minor pang of sympathy for the poor soul manning The Suppository's stall - most people seemed to walk past very quickly, with eyes averted. It was only a minor pang... and not enough to make me want to stop or take a photo...

I was very pleased to meet, at long last, the incomparable Daphne McLeod who does such sterling work in defence of the family.

Fr. Clifton was at the second-hand bookstall, looking pretty chirpy despite the recent kerfuffle over his blog. It was good to hear that he wouldn't be giving up blogging completely.

To my delight and utter amazement, there was a stall selling items made from the Papal Tartan - the St. Ninian Tartan - and, since they'd sold out of scarves, and I don't go in for wearing ties, I got myself a pashmina... The chap on the stall didn't want to appear on the blog just yet, as he's only just starting his apostolate part time... (I didn't behead him accidentally, I wanted to show off his tie!) However, I shall give him a plug when the time comes.

I spotted Sir Dan of the Nesbitry on duty at the Faith Movement's stall, along with Joe Kelly, another good friend. Sir Dan was keen to know if I'd seen him on His Hermeneuticalness' blog following his latest Rome trip. Of course I had!

SPUC had a stall selling their excellent "proper" Christmas cards... I really dislike Christmas cards with reindeer, Santa, trees and whatnot, which ignores the whole point of Christmas - ie. the birth of Christ. I can tolerate angels (they feature heavily in the story, after all) and wise men and stars (even though they are a little later on in the narrative.) Anyhow, you can still order proper Christmas cards through the SPUC shop website.

Sadly, I didn't have as much time at the Festival as I'd have liked, because I wanted to get to the LMS Requiem Mass in the Cathedral... hopefully I'll get more time next year! Congratulations to all those involved.

Apologies...

I have been neglecting the blogs - both my own and others. I haven't been that much more busy of late, but it is extraordinarily difficult to type with one hand while holding a kitten in the other. Monsignor Furretti keeps slipping off my lap, and I am tired of getting scratched to ribbons when she attempts to stay in position. As I am out all day, it seems a bit mean to ignore her when I finally arrive home!

So far I have been unsuccessful in finding a suitable companion for her.

His Hermeneticalness doesn't want to lose his street cred by posting cat pictures - other than Pushkin of the Birmingham Oratory. However, he emailed me the ones he took after blessing Furretti...

More Kitten Stuff...

I've been writing a lot of cat-related posts of late, but people have been asking me how Monsignor Furretti is getting along, so here's the latest...

I'm not a fan of allowing animals into church - guide-dogs excepted. However, I always get important things blessed - especially my cars (well, the way I drive...) and important books. I happened to ask if it was possible to get animals blessed. His Hermeneuticalness informed me that there was indeed a blessing for animals in the Rituale... admittedly, it was for flocks and herds, but...

He also told me that St. Martin de Porres had founded a hospital for sick cats and dogs. On the strength of that sort of saintly example, I asked if, on the Feast of St. Martin, Furretti could be blessed.

It nearly didn't happen - the night before, Furretti had a rather upset stomach, and I wasn't sure if a car journey would be a good idea. However, on the Wednesday she seemed a bit better, and so I popped her into the cat carrier and drove to Mass.

I didn't take her into the church, but left her in the car. After Mass, I brought her into the Small Hall, and gave her a saucer of water. Fr. Tim then blessed her - surprisingly, she didn't object to being sprinkled with holy water - but I couldn't take a photo, as I was busy ensuring that she didn't find her way into the vestment cupboards. Fr. Tim did manage to get a photo of her afterwards.

Since then, Monsignor Furretti has been making steady progress.

Sylvester was too big to climb onto small shelves, and he was getting arthritic, so didn't tend to jump onto anything higher than my bed. Anything (other than food) which I didn't want him to get at would be safe left up on a shelf. Now, however, no matter how carefully I put things away on shelves (often behind other, larger things), she manages to climb onto the shelf and hook the objects out. Pens, memory sticks, rosaries, alarm clocks... Yesterday, she sat on a bookshelf and deliberately hooked out three books from the middle of the row and pushed them off the shelf onto the floor.

Strangely, despite the many statues I have on my shelves, I haven't found any of them on the floor... yet.

Furretti also has her appetite back.

Note to self: even though prawn crackers bear no resemblance to prawns, Furretti likes them. Despite the Chinese takeaway packing them in polythene bags, Furretti will open the bag with a single swipe of her claw, and she will then proceed to hook out a cracker and commence chewing...

Flash Mob At Macy's...

I posted before on the Flash Mob (I think that's the expression) that sang for passengers at Heathrow's Terminal 5 (as a commercial for T-mobile.) It must be quite something to get caught up in an event like this... I never seem to encounter this stuff.

In a similar vein, the inimitable Fr. Z posted a Random Act of Culture performed by the Opera Company of Philadelphia at Macy's Department Store...



Great though it was, I'm afraid that the Hallelujah Chorus has never quite been the same for me ever since I saw this version...

500 Crosses For Life...

Click on the image for more details, but basically, several pro-life organisations are getting together to hold a procession to mourn all the unborn children killed through abortion. It starts at 1:30pm at Westminster Cathedral, goes to Westminster Bridge and finishes at Westminster Abbey. I assume that means the procession will go round Parliament Square to the Bridge and then back round to the Abbey.

Please support this with your prayers if you can't get there in person...

Latest Appointment To Congregation For Divine Worship...

Monsignor Furretti ought, I think, to be appointed to the Congregation for Divine Worship...

She has already shredded the (paper) tablecloth I had on my altar, and it occurred to me that her talents (and talons) could be employed more fruitfully in various sacristies...

...such as the one that housed this, for example...

Twitch of the mantilla to Bad Vestments.

The Progress of Monsignor Furretti

I was warned that Monsignor Furretti might go the same way as Cardinal Catzinger, and told to keep a close eye on her. Unfortunately, she is definitely not herself... she's off her food and much quieter than she has been. At the risk of conjuring up images of the Dead Parrot Sketch, I think she is pining... albeit for her brother and not for the Norwegian fjords...

I was advised to leave it for ten days before getting another playmate for her, just in case there was a viral cause behind Catzinger's death (see, I told you the vet didn't know.) Personally, I think I need to get another kitten as quickly as possible, otherwise Furretti will get bored and lonely. It won't be quite so bad once she starts to go out, but right now she's cooped up in the flat... and even when I'm home, I can't spend all my time playing with her.

I'm also finding it difficult to judge whether she isn't eating because she's pining, because she's ill or because she doesn't like the food. I've tried lots of different types... she's so little that I'm loathe just to wait until she's hungry enough to eat what's available. I was eating a steak pie two nights ago, and she seemed interested in that... so much so that she nearly took my finger off when I relented and gave her a little sliver of steak (she hadn't eaten all day.) I also gave her some of my tinned tuna... this morning she ate the catfood, but she hasn't touched it since...

I'm probably worrying too much, and she'll probably eat if she gets hungry enough. There are kitten biscuits available, and water as well...

*sigh*

In the meantime, here is the Dead Parrot Sketch for those of you who don't know what I mean by "pining for the fjords" !



The audio version had a different ending: Palin says: "I got a slug." Cleese asks, "Does it talk?" Then, in a twist, Palin replies "Yeah!" and so Cleese says "Right, I'll take that one then!"

Adverts...

Larry D's trip down memory lane with his breakfast cereals got me thinking about advertising. For quite some time before I finally ditched the TV, I was of the opinion that many of the adverts were better than the actual programmes. I rarely get to see TV ads these days, though there are plenty of bus shelter and poster ones around. But I still appreciate good adverts.

The psychology of it is quite clear: humour sells products (we all like to laugh) and "clever" sells even more successfully (we like to think we're clever enough to "get it"). Hence the success of the Silk Cut ads, which used the brand's colours (purple and white) and images of word play once the British government put restrictions on cigarette advertising which meant manufacturers couldn't say anything about the product itself (apart from the health warning.)

I was fascinated to spot an advertising company's debrief after the ad campaign for Silk Cut Ultra Light - due to the success of the original campaign, most people missed the "Ultra" references.

Anyway, I digress... I spotted a few references on Facebook to the latest T-Mobile advert, and how good it was. So, when I was checking out YouTube and I spotted the advert, I thought I'd have a little look.

It's great fun. I just want to know why nothing like this ever happens when I'm travelling... Definitely one of those feel-good video moments...

The Breakfast For Heroes Heretics...?

This contribution (at the end of some innocent childhood memories) from Larry D over at Acts of the Apostasy made me snort with laughter and scare Furretti...

Happy Feast Day...

Today is the Feast of St. Jude... and also of St. Simon, though he doesn't get much of a look-in. St. Jude was the first saint I really "got to know," and, although I have since made a point of acquiring as many patron saints as possible, he's one of my favourites.

You can read about how I was convinced of the efficacy of praying to the saints by checking out this post...

Sad News...

I got a phonecall from the vet this morning. Sadly, Cardinal Catzinger died during the night.

The vet thinks he had a congenital problem which didn't manifest itself until the stress of changing environments... I suspect that means that the vet just hasn't got a clue why the cat died. I've been advised to keep a very close eye on Monsignor Furretti, although, as she seems to have settled down, the vet thought it was unlikely she had the same problem as her brother.

Furretti appears to be determined to make sure she's kept a close eye on... she's lying across my chest while I type. Unfortunately for her, she's grown a bit in the past week, and, despite my generous proportions, she now keeps slipping off, much to her disgust...

Thanks for the prayers.

Education In Kitten Behavior - Lesson 2

Kittens, unlike elderly cats of 17 years, are extremely inquisitive. The shopping bags, which were safe from adult cat investigation no matter how long they were left on the floor, will be examined intently by kittens.

NB. Kittens have a very acute sense of smell. Do not assume that, because frankfurters are vacuum-packed in plastic they cannot be detected by kittens. Within ten minutes you will find that the frankfurters have been chewed...

Education In Kitten Behavior - Lesson 1

No matter how carefully you trail the cat toy around the floor, the kitten will take the shortest path of interception. If that path happens to be over your bare feet, tough. The kitten will not try to avoid them.

NB. Kittens, when changing from rough, high friction carpet surfaces to smooth, low-friction skin surfaces while in pursuit of cat toys, will not fully retract claws. Said claws resemble hypodermic syringe needles.

Feline Friends...

I phoned the vet this morning, and was told that Cardinal Catzinger was not showing any signs of improvement. He'd been sick, and so he was now on anti-sickness medication. Also, he appeared to be anaemic, perhaps because of fleas, perhaps because of worms. I pointed out that both kittens should have been wormed and de-flead on their visit on Thursday, but no-one seemed to have any record of it.

I was then advised to bring Monsignor Furretti back in so that she could receive the same treatment.

So, in the afternoon, I went in with Furretti. There was a different vet on (it's a group practice) so this was the third vet I'd spoken to. He admitted that he was expecting the worst for Catzinger - he was lying still, showing no interest in food, the IV drip didn't seem to have had any effect, and neither had the antibiotics. I asked if I could see him. We left Furretti in her cat carrier in one room, and went to the holding room where Catzinger was lying. He looked very sorry for himself. I stroked him gently, and he opened his eyes, but that was it.

The I heard Furretti miaowing in the other room. Catzinger appeared to stir, and tried to miaow back. I asked the vet if maybe I should bring Furretti in to see her brother, but he was of the opinion that it wouldn't be a good idea, especially if the illness was due to something viral. I bit back the comment which came to my lips, namely that, if she hadn't caught it so far, she was unlikely to catch it now. Feeling very sad, I closed Catzinger's cage and returned to see Furretti.

She was given the treatments for fleas and worms (both in drop form, applied to the back of the neck) and placed back in her carrier. I continued to discuss possible ways forward for Catzinger with the vet. He was, I could tell, trying to prepare me for Catzinger dying.

In mid-sentence, I stopped. "I heard Catzinger miaow," I said. "No," replied the vet. "There's another cat in the waiting room."

"No, I'm certain it was Catzinger."

Then Furretti miaowed, and there was an answering miaow from the next room. We both dashed over to see Catzinger, sitting up in his cage, and miaowing back at his sister, who was miaowing up a storm from the other room.

I haven't ever seen anything like it.

The vet was still adamant that Furretti was best kept at home, as he didn't want Catzinger to be over-stimulated, although he confessed himself encouraged by his response. I have to phone back again later to see how he's getting on. Furretti cried all the way home... though, in retrospect, it may be because she doesn't think much of my driving...

Prayers would be appreciated...

Caution! Competent Organist Might Be Required For Papal Mass...!

Oh dear, oh dear... I did wonder how on earth the Papal Visit organisers managed to avoid using something like the "New Israeli Mass Setting" or the "Mass of Creation" for the setting of the Papal Masses at Bellahouston Park and Cofton Park. It seems that, for once, the Bishops had a bright idea, and the news got out before the "liturgists" (sorry, should that be "performers" according to the helpful sheet given to the media?) managed to squash it.

I find it incredible that an objection to MacMillan's new Mass setting was that a competent organist would be required to play the accompaniment... I mean, I know organists are rare, certainly there are fewer good organists than guitar-strummers, but, well, for the Papal Mass, you think finding a competent organist wouldn't be too difficult... there might be one or two in the whole of Scotland who'd be willing to turn up...

A liturgical committee... That explains why they had those repeating bits - despite James MacMillan having told us at the Faith Summer Session that he hated verse-response stuff.

Worried...

My two cats have got very different personalities. Monsignor Furretti is into everything, and purrs at the slightest provocation. She is very demanding, and follows me everywhere. Cardinal Catzinger appeared quieter than his sister - and I assumed that, behaviour in the shop notwithstanding, Furretti was the dominant cat. I did my best to hold Furretti off while feeding cat treats to Catzinger, just to make sure that things were "fair."

By Monday afternoon, I was worried. Catzinger just seemed to get quieter and quieter. I encouraged Catzinger to sleep on my shoulder while keeping Furretti curled on my lap, but it was becoming obvious that Catzinger just wasn't very well, and that it was more than simple personality differences and difficulties in settling down.

During the night, Catzinger seemed unable to settle. He tried to be sick a few times, but didn't bring anything up other than a little fluid. I made a "den" for him, a nice, dark cave for him to hide in away from his more boisterous sister, and he crawled in... though, by morning, he was curled up at the foot of the bed. However, he wasn't comfortably curled up... he just looked all wrong.

He didn't miaow, and, more worryingly, he didn't purr. He wasn't interested in food.

Wondering if I was panicking unduly (I am not used to kittens - as I missed out on Sylvester's kittenhood, I have nothing to which I can refer back) I phoned the vet which had microchipped and innoculated him on Thursday morning. The only appointment available was at 10am. Mentally working out where the speed cameras were, I promised to be there. I thought it might be better to keep the cats together, so both Catzinger and Furretti went into the cat carrier.

The vet wasn't sure what was wrong with Catzinger, but agreed that he was a very sick-looking kitty. "I've never seen a kitten so quiet!" he remarked. Furretti was also examined, and declared to be in good health, though (as I suspected) very underweight. The vet was willing to take both cats in (to keep them together), but I thought that she might prove a little too wearing for Catzinger if they were both cooped up in one cage, especially since Catzinger would probably need to be put on a drip...

I wondered if I'd made the right decision, though, as Furretti cried all the way home. Part of me didn't want Furretti to feel she'd been abandoned again (I figured that Catzinger was too ill to notice) and a selfish part of me didn't want to be without any cats... but, now that we're home again, I think I made the right decision. Monsignor Furretti is currently balanced on my chest, fast asleep, while I type.

Catzinger is still at the vet's - I rang to check on his progress - and no-one is quite sure what is wrong with him. The vet will phone again later. I shall keep you all informed...

My Daddy Taught Me Good...

My father died when I was 15. I was his little girl, and there were a few things he thought I should know. One of them was how to defend myself - and, to this day, I remember his demonstration...

"If attacked from behind," he told me solemnly, "stomp on the man's foot, hard, so you break his instep, then move your elbow sharply back into his solar plexus... also, don't punch a man on the chin. You're a girl, and that sort of knock-out needs a lot of force. Hit him on the nose with the heel of your hand, sharply upwards, to break the bones and drive them into the skull... oh, and stick your fingers into his eye sockets. Right in..."

I haven't ever had to make use of the advice, fortunately. But I was reminded of it by this little snippet from Creative Minority Report - a news report of a robbery attempt which got turned into a musical masterpiece...





My daddy also taught me what to do if I was in a hostage situation and the SAS made a rescue attempt.* I have no idea why he felt that was necessary fatherly advice, and so far I haven't had to use that either...


* Just in case you are interested - "Get down on the floor when the stun grenades go off, keep your hands open out in the clear, and don't move until you're told to!"