Sneak Peek at my Current Project

It's a gift so I don't want to show the whole thing here yet.

Farewell to a Feline Friend

Today I say "goodbye" to a staunch companion and affectionate friend. My parents' beloved feline, Cherub, had become now incurably ill. Today, at 3 pm, she went into her long and final sleep.

When we moved to Christchurch 16 years ago, my parents bought an exotic persian kitten. We named her Cherub, and she was born on the last days of the year. At first, I admit, I was slow to love her. I had already convinced my parents to permit me my own cat, a lanky, peach kitten I had named "Titus". As mum was none to fond of him, I was determined not to show "her" cat any affection either. After all, my moggy was better than her pedigree. With her downturned mouth, and snub-nose, she was not everybodies idea of beautiful. Indeed, she had a perpetually peeved off expression, which did in no way indicate her personality. Cherub proved to both live up to her name and be an instant charmer. It did not take long before I was won over. She was blessed with an endearing nature and she loved to be near people. Whereas Titus spent the days roaming the neighbourhood, invading other people's houses and stealing the occasional sausage, Cherub wanted only to be with us. If you were lying down, she would stretch herself across your neck, resting her head against your cheek. This position put her rumbling purr and tickling whiskers directly beneath one's ear, and even if you could fall asleep in such a pose, there was always the risk that she would suffocate you.

As she grew up and grew older, Cherub began to show the effects of her mutations. Her flattened nose made her breathing wheezy, almost ashmatic and one-by-one her teeth rotted and had to be removed. Still, her sunny disposition remained. She was always quick to forgive it ever you stepped on her paw or tail (she did love to be underfoot) and never once bit. Even when she pawed at you, it was only under the most distressing of situations that she would put her claws out. When she was put into the conservatory ("her" room) at night, she would claw at the door, eager to be in amongst the warmth and affection. If you were posing for a photograph in the garden, it was inadverant that at least one shot would contain her small ginger self curling around your legs.

After I moved out, I saw less of Cherub, and am regretful now that I did not make a point to cuddle or pat her every visit. As the firmest hand in the house, it was my duty to groom her - a process she hated (but sorely needed). This entailed holding her by the scruff of the neck with one hand, whilst using the other to comb the tangles and matts from her pelt. Although not a longhair, her fur was not low maintenance. She would put up with this for a few seconds before slowly starting to resist - digging her claws in, squirming away, or when the stress got too much, mewing piteously. Here was the only time she ever clawed in anger - when I pushed her too far. I was always concerned that she would begin to associate me with this undignified and unpleasant experience, and thus offered her treats at the end of each session. Whether it was this reward or her forgiving personality, I do not know, but she would still trot up to me when I came to call, begging a pat or a tickle.

Cherub passed her 12th year - the expected lifespan of her breed, in good health (despite the lack of teeth). Although not as fast a-paw as once she had been, she still kept Max - the neighbours' ugly grey ex-Tom, on his toes. Although more time was spent lounging in the sun, she would still attempt to help mum with the gardening and could leap up onto the fence with ease to peer down on her domain. It was only into her sixteenth year that she really started to slow down. She spent longer hours sleeping (hard to measure with a cat as that is) and when picked up no longer responded with a headbutt and a nuzzle. Her wheezing breathes seemed shallower and the weight fell off her in droves. She guzzled her food, greedily lapped water, and resembled a fur-covered toastrack. Upon visiting - after not having given her a cuddle for some time, I picked her up and was shocked at how light she had become. It had become difficult for her to balance and she was forced to squat instead of sit. Thus she was taken in for that fateful visit.

The Vet's Verdict was diabetes - an incurable disease in which the body fails to assimilate the food successfully. Thus no matter how much she eats, it was not turned to life-giving energy. It is able to be maintained, but in a cat of Cherub's advanced age, the possible side effects combined with the stress of a daily injection, would likely be too much for her. We made the difficult decision to let her die with dignity. The last few days were hard. I visited more than usual, shedding tears over her fur (and not just because I am allergic to cats) and my parents doted on her - plying her with treats and affection. I hope she remembers us fondly, as she chases butterflies in the Rainbow Lands.

Goodbye Cherub, you are sorely missed.

(For those of you wondering what became of Titus, he was rehomed at 6 years of age when I went to University. I did not have much time for him and he was a cunning beggar who had managed to catch and kill four of our aviary birds. We put an add for him in the BSE that I wrote, starting with "Loveable rogue...". He found a new home in a motel on the outskirts of Christchurch very quickly. I hope he was happy there. I still miss him sometimes, but he was an independent, half wild soul)

The sugarplum Tree

Based on the popular poem by Eugene Field.

This is a 3 card ATC set (scanned before getting the chop). For Faithwalker who sent a lovely ATC gift to my mother before being checked into hospital with kidney failure. So, I hope this cheers her up a bit!

Native Flora

A selection of native New Zealand flora. Firstly - twinchies -



Then a Cobb Gentian -

More from Aesop's and another Totem

If your Totem is The Domestic Cat
You have found your niche in life and can now lie back and soak up the rewards. Some might consider you lazy, but that's not the case - you may seem laid-back, but if opportunity presents itself, you are always quick to pounce.
Element: Sun

The Monkey and the Dolphin

A monkey worked for the circus and was travelling across the ocean on a ship. A mighty storm struck, and the ship sunk. The monkey was left floating alone in the ocean, struggling to keep his head above the water, when a dolphin came along. As dolphins are honour bound to help drowning humans, she fished him out and tossed him onto her back, before setting out for the nearest shore. But as he enared the coast, the dolphin tried to strike up a conversation of the monkey, asking if he knew a particularly famous landmark. The monkey, assuming this was a person, answered that “yes, he knew them well, and dined with them regularly.”. Realising she had been deceived, and feeling particularly vindictive, the dolphin dipped her head under the water and drowned the poor primate.

Those who pretend to be what they are not, sooner or later, find themselves in deep water

Aesop's Fables

The Jay and the Peacocks

One day, a Jay decided that it would be a mighty fine idea to fancy himself up. He gathered some discarded tail feathers from the peacock flock and tied them to his own tail, before parading proudly up and down.
"What a fine fellow I am," he crowed.
The peacocks heard and gathered around him, eyeballing him suspiciously. Who was this little imposter who thought himself worth their equal? As one they attacked him, tugging the peacock feathers from the tail and giving him a thorough beating in the process. Dejected and bedraggled, the Jay staggered back to where his fellow jays had been watching. They greeted him with raucous peels of laughter and mocked him:

"It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds."

The Bat and the Weasels

Once a bat fell upon the ground and was pounced upon a weasel.
"Please do not eat me," the bat he begged.
"I must," boosted the weasel, "for I am sworn death to every bird."
"But I am not a bird," the bat besieged, "I am a mouse."
"Oh," said the weasel. "I do not like mice. Their fur sticks in my throat." And with that he let the bat go.
It was not long before again, the poor bat suffered another capture, from a different weasel. Once again, he pleaded for his life.
"Oh but I love mice," the weasel chortled. "So tasty and so sweet."
"I am not a mouse," the bat he begged, "I am a bat. We are not nearly so tasty and our meat is very rank."
The weasel sniffed him and saw that this was true. Disgusted, he rose his paw and let the bat flutter free.

It is wise to turn circumstances to good account.

Best of 2009

This is a Meme that was floating around deviantart, but I decided to incorporate it here, I've modified the sizes and fonts to my own tastes, instead of using the original template.

Because this is on a month-by-month basis, some would not normally rank in my top 12 whilst others won against fierce competition.

I wonder what 2010 shall bring?