Tales of Fooey
Here are a few Tales of Fooey I’d like to tell.
Fooey is one of me Sister Jane and Brother in Law Pete’s cats.
He’s now 98 years old in human terms.
He’s struggles to get about with his arthritis, looses his balance often nowadays too.
He’s not very good looking and drops off to sleep any-time, any-where.
He jumps and jerks with his dreams when kipping.
He’s a bit like me. (Hehe!)
Perhaps that’s why I love him so.
Occasionally he give out a loud wailing noise for ages for no apparent reason.
He often used to settle on his favourite chair and fall off of it! (Like me again, twice!)
He struggles with the litter tray and leaves a pungent aroma like no other cat I’ve ever known. (Like me again with me haemorrhoids)
He now sleeps on a low stool behind the patio doors. His choice.
He needs his coat sorting out daily, a special comb thingy me Sister Jane uses on his matted hair looks frightening to me, but he just loves it being done as clumps of hair are dragged off of him flesh, what bit he’s got left, he is very thin nowadays! (Not like me I’m afraid).
A poor waif of a stray all those years ago, they took him in and fell in love with him.
Yesterday I visited them all, Jane Pete and the three cats.
I saw something I would not have thought possible: Pete got the normal 
upright hoover out and hoovered Fooey!
The noise the Hoover made was tremendous, but Fooey being nearly deaf (Again somewhat like me) this didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.
He was obviously well used to this treatment and hobbled around to help Pete not miss any bits of loose or matted hair.
Bless him (Fooey not Pete).
Took it all in his stride… well hobble!
He kept head-butting the Hoover pipe guiding Pete to where he wanted doing next – an amazing performance to me!
The photo on the right was from some months ago – just after Fooey had had his Whoopsiedangleplop falling off his chair. You can see the scars on his poor head. (Like me again here!)
I just can’t help but love him to bits.
Being 19 years old now in human terms we all realise we may soon lose him. (Bit like me again! Tsk!)
So I thought I’d make up this post in his honour, so no one will ever forget him I hope.
A brave fighter with a wonderful nature.
I took this photo on the left last year of Fooey, or as Sister Jane and Pete named him, Mr Fooey!
He was in the middle of a dream when I took this photo.
Wailing occasionally and twitching away.
The photo on the right is one of my favourites.
He can only see so far, but on this occasion he’d spotted Jane going into the cupboard where they keep the cat-fodder.
He lost interest in me and kept his eyes on Janet then!
Bless his cotton socks!
