An introduction to a new member of the Cobweb family!

Happy Monday all! Flipping heck, it’s the 27th of September already…. and yet, I’m still living in March. I haven’t (inside my head) even reached the end of March because March is when ‘Lockdown’ began here in the UK. The only way I know what month it is, is to look down at the bottom, right hand corner of my ‘puter, or laptop screen, and it helpfully gives me the date.

The Dates of the Week are troublesome – when not on the ‘puter – too… but, thankfully, we have one of those day/date calendar blocks of wood things, on the kitchen windowsill, and Mr. Cobs is in charge of changing that daily so that we don’t ‘get lost’ in this sea of ‘what day, month, year are we living in?’ abnormality.

But … we aren’t here to talk about Covid 19 or Coronavirus or confusion. The news on TV talks enough about it, so we shall talk about things which make us smile. Things which bring joy to the heart. Stuff which, this week, isn’t craft.

I mentioned a couple of weeks or so ago, that we had a new addition to the family, but that I’d tell you more about this at a later date. Well, this is that later date!

On July the 14th 2019, our family grew by four feet.

I’d told Hugo, before this date, that Mommy was travelling quite a long way to look at a teeny tiny baby cow…. and that he could come with me, but he would have to sit patiently in the car for a little while, while mom looked at this very special baby.

I met this special baby, and knew straight away that she was meant to be in our family. I watched her scooting around the big garden, clambering over the other babies who were born at the same time as she was, and, joy of joys, I got to hold her, cuddle her and kiss her tiny little head and paws. Would you like to meet her?

Little Baby Tilly – D.O.B. – 18th May 2019

As you might have guessed from looking at the photograph, her name is Tilly. Well, actually, her name in full is: Tilly Twinkles Braveheart.

Braveheart – because the breeder (a first time breeder who was SO lovely that I wanted her to be part of my family too) had said she (Tilly) had proven herself to be a little Braveheart, and so she called her that. Tilly Twinkles was the name I chose for her because she looked like a Tilly, and she Twinkled – so Tilly Twinkles it had to be.

Hugo, Tilly Twinkles and Momma.
This sentiment is completely true – I KNEW straight away when I saw Hugo – and I knew straight away when I saw Tilly. My heart recognised them as if we’d known each other a life time already.

Tilly came home on Sunday, July 14th, and she fitted in straight away. Well, perhaps ‘fitted in’ isn’t quite the right words – it was more like she came, she took over and she trained us to her will.

Big brother Hugo, and his little sister Tilly Twinkles

Hugo adored her. From the moment we drove away from the breeders house with her, he loved her to the moon and back plus a whole heap lot more. Everywhere Tilly went, Hugo went too. He looked after her. Played with her. Shared even his most favourite toys with her. I could hear him saying, over and over and over again – “Are we REALLY keeping her? Is she mine?”

She was this tiny scrap of gorgeousness, who won the hearts of everyone who met her. The vets and all the nurses. The girls working in the pet shop. People in the street. Of course, Grandson Little Cobs, thought she was adorable. He loved to sit on the floor and have her on his lap – and Tilly enjoyed the adoration. Naturally.

When it was time for her to have a nap, we would put her on her bed inside her puppy play pen, and she’d go straight to sleep. Hugo, on the other hand, wouldn’t. He would sit right next to her, on the other side of the playpen, keeping watch over her. If she woke, his ears would go back, his eyes would take on a panic look and he’d look at me as if asking me to do ‘something’ because, in his opinion, she obviously needed something and I, as the mom, would know what to do. He loved her from the tip of her nose to the end of her almost none existent tail. (French Bulldogs are born without tails. They don’t have their tails docked because they don’t have a tail to begin with).

Her puppy playpen also came in useful for allowing the Cats – Alf Capone (Used Furniture Dealer) and Maisie Dotes (crazy, neurotic cat with many loose screws) to be introduced to Tilly, and also time to get used to her, and her to them.

Alf – well he’s pretty accepting of everything. He’s a laid back, chilled out, lover not a fighter – so he just got used to the way she smelled and then he was fine.

Maisie Dotes – she doesn’t have a screw loose – ALL of her screws are loose – so even after all this time, over a year now, she still can’t figure Tilly out. However – Tilly can’t figure her out either. Tilly doesn’t understand why the fluff ball of hissy fits rubs her cheeks up Tillys face. She doesn’t understand why the idiot cat rushes through the living room at breakneck speed, as if she’s in mortal danger. Basically … Tilly doesn’t ‘get’ Maisie at all. But she has learnt to distrust her, because Maisie can be all comely and silly and then change in a nano second into a Neurotic Idiot who should be on the next ‘special bus’ out of town.

Yes – that really is a dummy (pacifier for our US readers). She loves them. Hugo doesn’t love them – he just wants them in order to chew them up!

In short … Tilly Twinkles is like Mary Poppins – Practically Perfect in Every Way! She’s a daddy’s girl and will sit outside the door and howl if he’s on the other side of it. She is loving, caring, fun, sweet, crazy, and loves the pine cones that the squirrels throw down for her. She will race around the garden at 75 miles an hour and use the house as part of the race track she has going on inside her head. Every time the doorbell rings, she gets to the door before anyone else, and when the top half of the door is opened (we have a stable door) – she counts to two and then JUMPS high in the air so that she can just peep over the door to see who’s there. Frightens the ‘you know what’ out of the person on the other side of the door – but she (and we) find it huge fun.

Hugo had a first Birthday Party with Tilly – and enjoyed it all the more because Tilly made it super fun.

My handsome boy, Hugo, on his 1st Birthday

Hugo and Tilly are the bestest of friends, and still as much in love with each other as they were from day 1. They adore being together. Love to play. Love to tease each other. Love walking doggy walks together. Hugo protects her – but she really doesn’t need it. She genuinely is, Braveheart. She is scared of nothing and loves everything.

Hugo and Tilly watching her favourite film

She loves watching TV – and her favourite film is: The Aristocats. However, her favourite music is the Muppets Theme Music – and her very most favourite version of it is a new TV advert here in the UK, for John Lewis, which uses the Muppet Theme music, but without the singers. (click below to watch/hear it) Wherever she is in the house, if she hears that advert come on TV – she rushes in and sits watching, tilting her head from one side to the other, over and over again.

Our family is now complete. We have the most incredible two ‘children’ – and these two children are my favourites. But don’t tell our girls that – for if you do, I’ll deny it and then come and find you and dig up your garden.

Ok enough of me blabbering on … we’ve reached that moment when we have to have the Monday Fun…. here come the Jokes Folks!

Why did the Oreo go to the dentist?

Because he lost his filling.

~~ ❤ ~~

Why do bees have sticky hair?

Because they use honeycombs.

~~ ❤ ~~

I got my daughter a fridge for her birthday.

I can’t wait to see her face light up when she opens it.

~~ ❤ ~~

Why did the nurse need a red pen at work?

In case she needed to draw blood.

~~ ❤ ~~

Thank you SO much for coming and sharing a coffee with me. I love seeing you, and really would love it if you said hello in a comment below. If you can’t find the comment box it’s because you’re either reading this from your reader, or you’ve landed on the blogs home page. All you need to do is click on the title of this post, and then scroll to the bottom – where you’ll find the comment box, waiting for you.

Have a beautiful, blessed day my friend, and a wonderful week, and I’d like you to do me a favour … at some point during your day, every day for the next week, think about three things that have happened that day which have made you smile. Something that has lightened your day or made you happy in some way.

You are more blessed than you think you are, and more loved than you would imagine.

Sending you many squidges and much love ~

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The Christmas Donkey . . . and a new family member.

A Donkey,  a new baby, and Christmas, are three things which just ‘fit’ together, don’t they?  They make a perfect triangle,  all [sort of] ‘glued together’ with love.

Many years ago, daughter No.2 had a toy donkey called Donald. He was rather a handsome looking Donkey, beautifully made and very special indeed – and when you squeezed his sides, gently, he made the ‘eee-orre’ sound, just like a real donkey does.

Daughter No. 2 grew and grew (as they tend to do) and one day, after having a bit of a sort out of old toys, clothes, ornaments, and ‘flotsam and jetsam’,  and  I’d made three piles of ‘stuff’:  One pile to take to the Charity shop;  One pile of things to throw away;  and One pile of: ‘double check this’.  Everything in that pile was to be checked by everyone in the house that no one wanted it or had any use.  Donald the Donkey was added to that little selection of ‘double check this’ pile of things.

I asked No.2 if she still wanted to keep her donkey or could it be given to her sister for her baby to enjoy,  (No.2’s niece).  No.2 shrugged her shoulders and mumbled about not being bothered, so I took the donkey to Daughter No.1’s house when I next visited and offered Donald to her, and he was gratefully received.

A handful of months later, No.2 said that she wished I hadn’t given Donald away as she had wanted to keep him.

[BIG  S.I..G.H.]  “But you said you ….” … [small sigh]. I stopped talking,  realising that it was a useless effort to remind her of what she’d said and how she’d said it.  Donald had been gifted to her niece and I was weighted down with a painful guilt and heartfelt wish that I had been blessed, just for a moment, with fore-sight.

Daughter no.2 has never quite forgiven me for letting Donald go to her niece and I’ve felt the weight of motherly guilt about it ever since.

However … this Christmas, I thought of a way to try to fill the hole left by Donald – only this time in a slightly bigger, and more ‘grown up’ way. 

I made daughter No.2  a donkey. 

A ‘Faux Taxidermy’ Donkey.

Now don’t have heart palpitations … this isn’t made, in any way, from a real Donkey.

This is made from:- 

• A Paper Mache form
• Fake Fur (of three different types/colours)
• Strong Wire
• Felt
• Calico material
• Hessian
• Toy Eyes (like Teddy Bear eyes)
• Eyelashes
• Buttons
• lashings of three types of glue
• Sewing thread and needle
• The use of my Dremel and a Pokey Tool
• LOTS AND LOTS OF PATIENCE
• and a  PLENTIFUL  amount of time.

I couldn’t wrap Donald the Donkey II up in gift paper as … well, it just felt so wrong to do so – he could suffocate!  So, at Christmas,  about an hour before D.no.2, Son-in-Law and Grandson arrived, I removed one of my framed pictures from the wall, and hung Donald II there instead.

She saw it the moment she walked into the living room, and loved it.  I was thrilled to bits, because I worried that perhaps it was too big; too over the top; too realistic looking (apart from the buttons for his nostrils); or just ‘too‘.  But no, she loved it.  She liked it so much that she thought I’d made it for myself and instantly asked me to make her one!  RESULT!  lol.  I got Mr.Cobs to take Donald off the wall and show D.No.2 the inscription on the back, which told that I’d made it for her for Christmas.  I thought she was going to cry for a moment, she looked so happy and thrilled.

The making of Donald was pretty much just common sense, and being methodical.  I’ll show you photo’s rather than explain ‘how to’,  as the photographs basically tell you anything you might need to know if you feel that a bit of Faux Taxidermy is something you’d like to have a go at too…

Donald the Donkey began life as a paper mache Unicorn, as seen in the photo above.

After removing his Unicorn Horn, he had to be patched up and turned into a horse….

His Donkey ears needed to be made, so I constructed them using strong Garden Wire which had been treated so as not to rust. I kept the wire in place using some hessian, which I fed the wire through, and then covered the whole thing in Calico Fabric, folding in order to follow the ‘ear shape’ as I went,  – and then held everything, including the wires, in place by hand stitching, where needed.

I covered both the ear armatures in fake fur and fixed it in place, then ‘tried them on for size’.

Once I was happy with the ears, I then went on to make a lower jaw for the Donkey.  Unfortunately I got so involved in the making I forgot to take photos of this, but it was basically made in the same way the ears were made, and then fixed into place.  You can see his lower jaw – which gives him the open mouth, and all round chunkier ‘Donkey look’,  in the two photos, below:

Eyes and eyelashes!

Donald the Donkey II

He’s come a long way from originally being a paper mache Unicorn, hasn’t he!  🙂

~~~  ❤  ~~~

OK, so we have the Donkey …  “but what about the baby”, I hear you say.  (You did, I heard you say it!).

Those of you who read my last blog post will know that I lost my much-loved dog earlier in November.  I’ve had dogs all my life, but when Mabel passed, I said  “I’m not having another dog.  They don’t live long enough and I end up with a heart full of love and no dog to give it to.  I cannot bear the pain of losing a dog.  I’m not having another dog ever!”.  And I meant it with all my heart, as I sat there in the car, outside our vets, sobbing my heart out on the day I said goodnight to Mabel.

On the 14th of December I happened across an advert on a well known and reputable website, for breeders of puppies who were ready to find forever homes for their puppies.  I looked at the photographs of these lovely little things, admiring them but not wanting any of them, it was just like a child looking at a picture book.  I was happy to just enjoy other people’s dogs.

Then found an advert with photographs of puppy who I instantly felt as though I recognised.  Not recognised his face, – but my heart ‘recognised’ this little soul.  My heart KNEW him and it called out to him.  An instant longing, – painful even, right in the middle of my chest.

[G.A.S.P.…] . . .  “OH.  MY.  GOODNESS!!!“ – I called to Mr.Cobs….  “I’ve found our dog!  I’ve found the dog which I know is destined to be OUR dog.”

“But I thought you said we weren’t going to have another dog?” – he replied from the other room.

“You HAVE to come and see this photograph!  Seriously, it really is as if I already know him.  My heart recognises him!”

And this photograph of a little French Bulldog puppy  ….  was the photograph I showed Cobs Snr…

We talked about this little baby for a while.  Then we thought about it for a while, and then thought some more.  Then I found the advertisement again and we discussed it some more.  We eventually decided that I should phone the breeder and ask if the puppy was still available or if he’d already been reserved.  So I did.  And … he was still available to buy.

We made an appointment to go and see him on the following Tuesday, and . . .  well, as the saying goes:  ‘the rest is history’.  He became our new baby.  The new four-legged member of our family joined us exactly one week before Christmas Day, on the 18th of December.  We had a list of names which we’d made, but once we’d met him we knew that only one name would suit him, and that name was …  Hugo.

Now I won’t bore you all to tears about him here on this blog as I know that not everyone is a dog lover.  But … I’ve ‘built’ a WordPress Blog just for Hugo and which is Hugo’s own blog, so if you’d like to read posts written by Hugo, in his words, please do visit his blog:-  For the Love of Hugo – <—click  (it will open in a new tab/window for you).  You’ll be able to see more photo’s of him and get to know little Hugo himself.  I think you might enjoy him.  He’s a funny little scrap of adorable, dipped in magic dust.

Oh, and please do ‘follow’ him and make the chap even happier than he is.  As a follower you’ll know when he’s posted something because you’ll get a message letting you know he’s written a blog post to you sharing his latest story or adventure(s),  It’s just like any other blog – only, ‘For the Love of Hugo‘ is written by Hugo himself.  🙂

Well,  all that’s left for me to say now is:  I hope that your Christmas was warm and happy and without incident, and I make a wish for you to have a peace filled, joyous, contented and promising New Year.  May there be something which makes you smile each day of this coming New Year, and may you remember to count your blessings regularly so that you know that you are indeed more blessed than you might initially imagine.

Very much love to you my lovely friend.

 

Oh! …  P.S.. ….  Some readers want to make comments after a post, but cannot find a place to do so. 

In order to make a comment on any post – you have to actually click into the post rather than simply read it on the home page.  Scroll up and click on the title of the post and then, when it’s loaded,  scroll down to the bottom and you’ll find the comment box!  It’s like a magic trick!  lol.  ~ C. xxx

 

“Say goodnight, not goodbye . . .

…  you will never leave my heart behind.  Like the path of a star, I’ll be anywhere you are.”  ~  (lyrics borrowed from a song by Beth Nielsen Chapman).

My beautiful friend, ‘Belly’, who never liked her photograph being taken, but put up with it just for me.  Thank you Belle.

It’s been quiet here on the blog for a few, short weeks and I’m here to explain.  I had to say goodbye to my loved, beautiful dog and constant friend,  Mabel.  Some of you might remember me mentioning she’d been poorly and I’d been back and forth to the vet.  Mabel was 14 and a half years old and I couldn’t bear to watch her suffer any longer.  I had to make the hardest decision that a dog owner ever has to make, and said goodnight to her three and a half weeks ago.

I couldn’t type details before today as I couldn’t seem to find the right words.  Nothing explained the pain of my loss, and still doesn’t now, but I realised I needed to share where I was and why I wasn’t blogging.  My heartfelt thanks for the loving messages I’ve received asking where I am.  You have lifted my heart knowing that you care.

Thank you for coming today. I promise my next blog post will be a happier, crafting for Christmas, post.

Sending my love to you, as always. 

There is no comment box for this blog post.

 

 

On-line Dating ~ for cats – The Reply

For humans reading this:-

This blog post  ‘On-line Dating ~ for cats – ‘The Reply’  is a response to a feline ‘approach’ from an admirer called Neurotic Cat, (who is the owner of Mrs.P & Beloved).  Who wrote a letter of love to one of my cats : Alfie  ‘Two Toes’  Capone.  If you haven’t read the loving advances of Neurotic Cat,  you can find them on Mrs. P’s blog: Craft Odyssey .  You might want to read Neurotic Cats blog post before you read my own cats reply so that it all makes sense to you.

I hope that this is as much fun for you to read, as it was for me to type.

Of course,  all that you are about to read was dictated to me directly by Mr. Capone himself.  I am merely his personal assistant,  or, as he calls me:  ‘his servament’ ~ . . .  ~ C ❤ bs.

I now hand you over to Mr. Capone – all HIS own words.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Alf Capone’s reply to Neurotic Cat.

Neurotic Cat,  Princess,  …

Your profile has piqued my interest, as has the photograph of you flashing your tummy!

I feel I should let you know somethings about the real ‘me’.  The REAL Alf Capone.  So find yourself a comfy spot and I shall begin;

I was born at an early stage in my life and have now attained the grand age of 4 in human years.  However in cat years I’m now in my prime and aged 35.**

I’m built along the lines of a small Puma,  and stand approximately 38cm (15″) from floor to top of shoulder.

Can you see my snowy  white shirt peeping out of my Tux?

I have a luxurious black fur coat and wear a tuxedo which reveals a hint of white shirt on my muscley chest.

My nickname, ‘Two Toes’,  relates to me having two white toes on my (left) back foot, and was given to me by my human family of ‘servaments’ (servants) when I moved in at 8 weeks old.

See my two white toes?

As I matured I developed kleptomaniac tendencies, often returning home with purloined goods from the neighbourhood, including cat toys, socks, bread rolls, meat from barbeques, long strips of silicon sealant – which I resolutely refuse to divulge where I obtain it from,  and leaving them all as surprise gifts at Mrs. Cobs feet.

I am also a trained Assassin.  Bringing home various dead bodies . . .  of shrews, mice, rats, and even a large, stupid bird, which I later found out was called a pigeon, whose corpse I stashed under Mrs. Cobs chair for her to find.  I’m not sure if the noises she made when she found it were happy ones.  But I was content and that’s all that matters.

Peeping Tom?  No, I’m the Neighbour Watch Chief Officer!

I’m part of the Neighbourhood Watch and like nothing more than keeping an eye on the neighbours through their windows.  “Peeping Tom” is another phrase which has also been used to describe my activities, but I have no understanding of this term.

I like to ambush Mr. Cobs and ‘Bellie’ the K9, as they return from their morning strolls, by laying in wait and leaping out of various driveways as they pass.  I then escort them to the front door to make sure they’re safely home.

It’s a quiet road where I live and the residents know that when I’m lying in the road, then they’d better drive around me – or suffer the consequences.

Look into my eyes.  Not around the eyes, not above the eyes, no, look into my eyes.  You WILL do what I request!.  You are my servament!

I enjoy food, particularly if I go out and come back in again – even if it’s only for two minutes.  I believe I am telepathic, and try to convince Mr. Cobs to feed me by staring into his eyes from a distance of two inches.  If this doesn’t work, I walk onto his tummy with all four feet and stand in front of his face so he can’t watch the TV.  This works every time!

I am partial to cream, ice cream and yoghurt – which I only seem to get in very small amounts from Mrs. Cobs, and only if I lick it off her finger.

The K9 unit.

I lurve the K9 unit, Bellie, but she doesn’t seem to reciprocate it.  I show her my lurve by scent marking her, or as she calls it ‘head butting’,  sucking and padding her blankets and climbing onto her bed with her.  There’s not enough room for us both, so I lay on top of her, keeping her warm, padding,  and digging  my sharp little nails into her, showing how much I appreciate her little, roly poly, warm, soft body.  For some reason she takes umbrage at all of this and grasses me up to Mrs. Cobs as if I’m doing something wrong!  What a nark.

Mrs. Cobs read a poem to me a little while back, and I  liked it so much that I remembered it because I agreed with it whole heartedly,  so I’m going to share it with you:-

Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody’s lap will do.
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere!  They don’t care!  Cats sleep anywhere

Author: Eleanor Farjeon (1881 – 1965)

I’m quite a laid back and can sleep anywhere, and apparently, from photographic evidence which has been submitted to me, in absolutely any position.

Fast asleep

Too big to fit that circular bed on the top of the cat scratching/climbing/sleeping/hiding combination ..  my tail, back legs and bottom are hanging over the edge of the circle bed and from just over half way along my body .. those parts are hanging over the other edge of the circle bed and I’m fitting myself onto what’s available .  Both of the Cobs were heard to say … “THAT cannot be comfortable” … and yet, as you see,  I obviously am!

I  like to put myself to bed.  A trick I learned from the K9 unit.

See?  Like the poem said …  cat’s sleep anywhere!

We have an ‘elder’ in our family.  She’s a black and white feline, who is now 22 in human years, which means she’s attained the great age of  105 years old  in Cat years.  I look out for her.  I am . . .   THE BODYGUARD!

The elder is a good sport and lets me have three-quarters of this bed, while she squidges up in any space left.

I spend a lot of time with her, especially when she’s in the front garden asleep under the Hydrangea bush.

I protect her from any other cats.

If The Elder is out there, I’m there too, guarding and protecting her.  No one DARES to come near her when I’m there.  Not even that  Ginger [expletive deleted]  from over the road!

She’s half my size but … if she wants my food then I let her have it.  She is The Elder.  I know my place.  P.S….  she’s the one who taught me to ask for food every time I go out and come back in the house again.  It works for her and so far, it’s (almost) working for me.

I exercise by chasing my considerably smaller sister round the house, usually around 10.30pm, but also if my food is two minutes late!  I call this: ‘Playing Cowboys and Indians‘.  Mrs. Cobs calls it:  PANDEMONIUM!  I have been known during this game to clear the width of the sofa – from end to end – in just one leap.  Impressive eh?

My sister  –  a.k.a.  Princess Tippy Toes.

This is how Princess Tippy Toes asks for her dinner.  She lays around the kitchen looking pretty.  pffft!

I am aware when Mr. C is about to play on his  X-Box, and five minutes before he goes to play …  I re-locate to his gaming chair. 

Mr. Cobs Gaming Chair. fnar, fnar, fnar.  More like MY Comfy Chair!

I pretend to be asleep and Mr. C doesn’t remove me, so spends his time playing his game, sitting on the floor to play.  He appears to have great difficulty getting up from this position after he’s finished playing.  Watching him and listening to the noises he makes and the muttered imprecations concerning feline behaviour, is absolutely bally hilarious!  But the fun doesn’t end there … for  . . .  as he turns off his game  . . .  I vacate the game chair and go instead to sit with Mrs. Cobs in the living room.  Mr. Cobs appears not to find this aspect of my behaviour endearing.  (He has no sense of humour!)

I’ve got a healthy pink tongue, and, Mrs. C. says, big chubby cheeks which help me to give the bestest cheek rubs ever!

 I’m single, in good health, glossy coat, rippling muscles, eat well and healthily (most of the time) and I’m adventurous.  I’m caring, protective, loving but maintain a real macho facade.  I have great eyes, teeth and claws, and like to help around the house by checking that the carpets are firmly attached to the floor, and that the rugs are in the correct positions.  (Having good claws comes in handy for this job!).  I like to  ‘chill’  in Mrs. C’s craft room, on a big comfy cushion which she’s put on the floor under one of her desks.  It’s a great room.  It’s cool, airy and quiet – apart from Mrs. Cobs continually talking to herself and asking me my opinion on ribbons, bits and bobs and ‘stuff’ – of which I have no interest, unless they fall on the floor.  THEN I’ll have an interest in them.

… an all action shot of me with my Crack Coke  Cat Nip Banana

I have only one vice …. I very much like Cat-Nip.  It gives me a warm, fuzzy, psychedelic feeling and I have been known to seek out my Cat Nip Banana and steal it, even though Mrs. Cobs has hidden it from me!  (How very dare she!)  Mr. Cobs calls it  “Crack Coke for Cats”,  but I don’t know why because I don’t  drink it.

Mrs C asked me to ‘pose’ for a moment so she could photograph my paws.  Apparently they’re big.  Can you see my ‘thumb’ … sticking out from the side?

So Neruo Cat …  if you’re looking for an all action, caring, sharing Hero …  I’m your Cat.

Cheek rubs  ~  Alf.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And there ends The Reply to Neurotic Cat.  I do hope I have typed his every word exactly as he spoke it to me.  🙂

This wonderful, fabulous, loving, quirky, characterful, amazing, magical, gorgeous, friendly (to everyone) , truly beautiful hearted Cat, walked into my life and continually renews the foot prints which he leaves all over my heart.  He’s such fun and so adorable.  Yes, I admit, he does have his moments, but it’s all part of the great stuff which makes him ‘him’!

What he fails to mention in his reply to Neurotic Cat is that he has the ability to see Fairies.  Yes, he really does.  He plays with them when they come out to play in the evening.  He will scoot up and down the hallway, stopping every now and again to sit upright, taking all his considerable weight onto his bottom and back legs, and will reach up for something which cannot be seen with a human eye, but is quite obviously definitely there, and he’ll tap and play in what appears to be empty air, using soft paws (no claws), and everyone looking on can see that there is no fly or midge ..  so what the divil is he playing with?  What is it which is keeping this stunning creature amused in the way he is?  After perusing all the options,there is only one answer to this question.  He’s playing with Fairies.  Fairies which only he can see.   They must come into the cottage through the Fairy door we have to the side of our own front door. Yes, we really do have a fairy door there.   You don’t believe me?  … take a look …

Can you see it?

Now can you see it?

Have a wonderful Thursday my fabulous blogging friends. –

**To convert cat age to an equivalent human age, an accepted method is to add 15 years for the first year of life. Then add 10 years for the second year of life. After that, add 4 years for every cat year. This means that by year two, a cat has matured to about the same as a 25-year-old human.  There is a website which will work it out for you: www.CalculatorCat.com .

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On Line Dating …For Cats

Dearest fabulous followers and magnificent readers of the Cob Blog,  …  Mrs.P, who’s a wonderful mummy to a cat (and a rather handsome dog),  happened to come across the post I made some time back, about one of my furry craft room companions;  Alf Capone.  (aka Alfie-pops – DON’T tell him I told you that though). (Link to the original post by me HERE. it will open in a new window/tab for you to read when you wish )

Mrs.P. must have not noticed at the time that her cat, who’s name is: Neurotic Cat, had been perusing the screen as Mrs. P. was reading.  Well.. while her mum was off doing other things, Neurotic Cat did the following…..

Life At The Cottage On The Green

Have you ever had the experience of perusing posts when BOOM an image of what could be the love of your life appears on screen ??? There was I peeping at Cobs blog when I saw him ..Mr Alf,

Go on admit it …isn’t he just the Bees – knees

I was going to be all lady like and wait for his slave Mum to make an introduction on my behalf ..then I though ” I’m a modern Woman … I can handle this myself” so I’m taking things into my own hands, so here is my online dating profile :-

My name is Neurotic Cat, I’m a dainty 6 yr old  black ‘ghost tabby’ complete with a white bib & tummy, I have a meow on par with a car alarm …which is a good thing when you require the attention of the highest calibre, I also have  healthy…

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Meet Alf Capone – one of my Craft Room companions.

About three years ago Mr. Cobs and I were talked into having a kitten by our (grown up and married)  daughter.  She knew someone who was desperately trying to find homes for kittens and we agreed that we’d have one.

We chose the most adorable little black and white bit of fun and mischief, got her home, and within about three hours we knew we’d made a mistake.  We shouldn’t have just had one kitten.  We should have had two.  She needed a little playmate.  We were fine, but we weren’t kittens.  She’d come from a big ‘brood’ of kittens and we felt so mean taking her away from them all.  It was decided.  We contacted the lady and asked if we could have another kitten.

So back we went the next day to pick up the tiniest little black boy kitten;  huge big blue eyes which melted my heart and the tiniest little white diamond on his chest.  Ohhh, he was SO adorable that there should be a law against being that cute.

We got him into the house and his little girl sister instantly jumped on him and battered him with play.  Mr Cobs and I both agreed that we reckoned the young lady was going to be the boss out of the two of them.

We weren’t ‘new’ pet owners.  We already had two dogs, and one very elderly cat (whose now 20 years old).  So looking after little rascals wasn’t in the least bit of a surprise.  We knew what we were letting ourselves in for.

But …. we didn’t quite reckon on Alf.  Or … Alf Capone;  to give him the full, respectful name he requires.

(I call him ‘Alfie Pops’  – but don’t let him know I told you because I fear that he will tell me I’m dead to him if anyone else knows about this affectionate monica I’ve bestowed upon his head).  :o)

Photograph taken by my lovely neighbour, who’s way better at capturing a photograph of this almost all black chap than I am.

 Now I’d like to think that Alf Capone Esquire is more James Bond  (cue Live and Let Die music in the background) – because he is so sleek.  So dashing.  So, SO handsome, and he truly looks like he’s wearing a tuxedo.  The white diamond on his chest simply looks like a pure white shirt, beneath his black tuxedo jacket.  However, I’ve never seen a Bond film where James attempts to assassinate his sister whenever he’s ready for dinner and none is being served at the exact time he requires it.  (more about this distinguishing character  ‘trait’ in a moment)

I’m not saying that any mafioso would assassinate his sister – however … we are dealing with the Cat Mafia here and so I think the rules are very different.

I absolutely love this fascinating creature to the moon and back (plus tax) and he tickles the heck out of me with some of the things he does, and has done, in the time since we’ve had him.

I’m rather ashamed to tell you this but …  well,  …  Mr. Alf is a kleptomaniac.  He’s stolen things  from other people’s houses;  cat toys, food – corn on the cob, a fried egg,  and even bread rolls which, by the look of the contents, came from someone’s barbecue.  He’s delivered looong lengths of silicon sealant at my feet which he’s obviously freshly pulled out from goodness knows where;  a sock;  a tiny rubber bouncy ball,  and … oh,  an assortment of other weird and odd stolen things.    Along with the usual cat ‘gifts’ of birds (both alive and those he’s personally ‘delivered’ to the Rainbow Bridge) and mice (those are more often than not alive and running at speed when he drops them, with me chasing after them, squealing: “eek, eeeeeek,  EEEEEK!” as I try to catch the darn things but stop him from catching them again – sigh).

But his most favourite thing to do is to accompany me to the craft room, where he sleeps either under one of my desks, on a big, soft red with white spots comfy cushion, which my (now passed on) eldest dog used to sleep on, or he will curl up on one of the chairs pushed under the table at the back of the craft room, and sleep there for as long as I’m crafting.

If I haven’t gone to my crafty hidey hole when he feels I should have, he will come into the living room where I’m sat and, standing on his two back paws, he’ll put his front paws on my knees and tap me gently, over and over, until I look at him, and I can clearly see the ‘nag nag nag’ in his eyes, asking me to “C’mon….  get a move on, I’m waiting!”  LOL.

However …. in the house, when he gets tired, …. aw, that’s when he becomes a baby again.  He loves the blankets we have for our dog (she likes to clamber under the blankets and put herself to bed).  Mr. Alf loves these blankets too,  so much so, that they’ve become his version of a childs ‘blanky’.  He HAS to have a few minutes with the blanky before he’ll go to bed.

You see …. he likes to suck on the fluffy side of them.  Yes – you read that correctly.

We’ve tried to stop him – to no avail.  We’re aware how bad it is and I won’t bother to tell you how worried I am that he might be taking bits of fluff into his system.  (I have checked these blankets and haven’t found any bare patches, or parts where it looks like bits are missing).

The photo above shows you how he drapes himself over the edge of the dogs wicker bed, and once he’s got the blanket in just the right place, he begins to pad, pad, pad it, – just like he would have done to his mummy’s tummy when he was a kitten and wanted to feed – and then he’ll begin to suck it.  Audibly.  Noisy little slurpy, sucking noises.  I kid ye not dear reader.  This is really embarrassing when we have visitors and he does it, because it’s quite loud. 

Once he’s had his blanky time, he then gets himself into position to sleep …. by making sure that he drapes himself half on the bed, and half off.  (see the above photograph).   Doesn’t matter which of the numerous beds we have dotted about our little cottage, – he has a choice of:-  two wicker beds with comfy cushions; a large, rigid plastic bed with a big squishy cushion inside; a firmly padded tartan with matching cushion cat bed, or two lovely, roses printed Cath Kidston pet beds – he makes sure that he drapes himself in such a way that at the very least one whole leg is draped outside the bed.  We have no idea why he has to sleep this way, but I’m figuring that it must be a Cat Mafia thing.  One foot always ready to pounce while the other three are sleeping. 

However  … when hungry, that’s when this adorable little monster becomes the naughty little devil and gets a telling off.  If we take just a nano second too long in dishing up his hearts desire, he will turn his annoyance at being made to wait, into a reason for his killer instinct to show up and he will attempt to kill his sister, so as to get us into action pronto.

He chases her around our cottage: – up the hallway at breakneck speed and back down again; over the high-backed chair in the living room (with claws out, which makes it sound like he’s ripping the fabric), over the sofa, both the back and the seat parts, into and around the conservatory, up the 5 feet tall cat scratching post/bed/climbing frame combination, and,  eventually , if the door’s left open,  he’ll harem scarem through the bedroom, at a gazillion miles an hour – which he KNOWS he’s not allowed to do – over the bed, onto the windowsill – disturbing the curtains and making the lovely little yacht I have on the sill there rock back and forth.  If by chance he manages to actually catch his sister, he’ll make her squeal by grabbing her by the scruff of her neck – which gets him a real old telling off, – which in turn makes him sulk on the sofa until he finally gets what he wants …. dinner, in his favourite dish.  (Please God don’t anyone give him the wrong dish!)

He can be a troublesome bug to our dog too.  He major time loves our dog (‘Maybees’ – say it sort of singy songy and you’ll see how it sounds.  lol) sooooo much, that he wants to love her and love her and love her.  He rubs his chubby little cheeks around her face, scent marking her and making her ‘his’.  He cleans her ears for her with his raspy tongue, which tickles her and makes her shake her head so violently that I think it’s going to fly off one day.  He clambers onto her bed and snuggles up to her – which drives her nuts and she pleads with me to get him off.  Ohhh he loves Maybees soooo much that it’s pitiful to watch.  Maybees does love him too.  But she just wishes that he’d leave her alone to snore when she’s asleep and not climb all over her, trying to wake her up.

But he’s adorable.  For all his funny things, annoying things, rascal ways … we all love him to pieces.  My Daughter and Son-in-Law have both said that they’d have him in a heartbeat.  He’s just brilliant.

And … when he finally finds a spot and settles down ….  he’s just the little boy he always was when we first brought him home.

He’s just my Alfie Pops.  Soft, with fur like you’ve never felt before.  Thick, deep and luxurious.  Sweet natured (really – most of the time).  A little baby who loves ice cream,  drinking chocolate (I dip my finger into it and he licks it off my finger) and scrambled egg.  His favourite treats are cheesy puffed cat crunchies,  which I keep in a little glass jar and shake them when it’s time to come home and stop playing outside in the woods.  He’s a beautiful, massively heavy, big (much much bigger than he looks in these photographs) gorgeous, sweet thing and I love him to pieces.  And no, dearest daughter, if you’re reading, I’m not going to give him to you … but I’ll share him with you when you visit.

Before signing off ….  I know this isn’t one of my usual crafty posts and I know I’ve been Missing In Action for a couple of weeks (or so), and my blogs been very quiet.  I had to have some surgery.  I found some lumps about four weeks or so ago and the surgeon said that rather than simply take a little biopsy and wait to see what turned up, he felt it would be more prudent to remove all the lumps and, hopefully, all the surrounding cells, and then get a biopsy done on all that tissue.  He doesn’t think there’s anything to be worried about but I won’t get any results quite yet.   I’m not worrying until there’s something to worry about, because that’s just a waste of days and the older I get, the faster the days seem to go, so I’m not about to waste even one day worrying when I’ve got so much crafting to do!

Normal service will be resumed ASAP, as I get back to my crafty stuff.  However …  I will continue to introduce you to the fur babies I have here, who accompany me to my craft room, so that you paint a picture of who’s under the desk with me as I craft.  :o)

Thank you so much for coming to have a read.  I love that you visit to share a few minutes with me.  Thank you. 

Have a wonderful, happy, blessed day!

… and Alf Capone, of course!

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