– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Sister Jane & hubby Pete, many, many years ago.
With my favourite one of their clowder of cats.
But I’d like to start with Tabitha.
Seen here checking over my retirement pension details in the kitchen. Hehe! The runt of the litter, very small, delicate, beautiful, friendly, and curious, so curious.
The first to pass away in the new home they had moved into. I always remember Tabitha. 💟
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Here is Inchie, with Mr Foooey, Foooey to his fans. The poor thing was nearly blind, deaf and arthritic.
But I never saw him get nasty, no matter what was going on around him. I recall on one of my visits, to show off my new Diahatsu 4-track car… as I left, as I opened the car door, there was Mr Fooey on the passanger seat purring away. How he got in was initially a mystery. On the way home, I realised the roof window was open. He was younger then.
Such a gentle animal in every way. I still miss him as much as my Cyril and Lady.
It was great visiting Jane. They had Big Albert, Dainty Tabitha, Poorly Mr Fooey, Arthur, and Cryrille.
But it’s Mr Fooey’s memory day today.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
MR FOOEY
🤎
Sister Jane, seen here, clipping Fooeys ever-growing tufts. He rather enjoyed this.
End of my visit, handing Mr Fooey back to Jane.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
So long ago, but I reckon it must have been a
day!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TTFN
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The ode leery rather than cheery, knowing my luck I’d imagine the tube as a straw 🤣 Enjoyed the reminiscence too, seems like they were happy times.
Tube as a straw… Hehehe!
Aye, they were good times then, Paul. I had health, wealth, Griselda and hopes.
It all went wrong later. Hahaha!
I do hope you are coping, Sir Paul?
What do you think the World will offer us next?
No need to answer that. Hehehe!
Cheers, mate.
I have no real idea, except that the orange buffoon and Bibi are lying again and getting the world into a mess so that the orange buffoon can cannibalise resources and power.
Along the lines of my thoughts there, Paul. Oligarchal leaders… if leader is the right word. Cheers. mate.
Yes, true, if leaders be what they are. 😀
They tell us so, Paul. Emperors in waiting. It’s got me down. The futility of resistance.
Keep safe, Sir.
Cats are such extraordinary creatures. They’ve bred into so many varieties over the millennia. Way back in 1961 we had the privilege of living with a fluffy longhair beauty named Whiskers. He would plop on his back to enjoy a hoovering. We’ve had dozens of cats right here at Crowell Manor. Each with a distinct soul. Thanks so much for the many photos of Mr. Fooey!
I’m really glad you enjoyed the memories revealed Sir Billum. Really glad.
Whiskers was a smidge like Cyril was with the hoover, but lady would run away the second I picked the hoover up, before I started it. She always returned when the noise ended, and some reason made a fuss of me for a few minutes. Cyril followed the hoover around until he got his tummy done. Hahaha! Another similarity twixt our memories. Everyone different but loved. As you at Crowell Manor are from me. X👍🏻😼
The ode says a lot about you, Gerry. It sure looks like you had a great Caturday. I hope you’re having a blessed Tuesday. 😍🙏
Official problems arose via a text today. Thankfully Jenny came to take a look, and agreed they should not be asking someone with mental and physical problems to do what they asked me to, well, told me to do. Bless her, she is going to call them tomorrow to try and sort it for me. ‘Bless her cotton socks’. A true Angel to me. Do you use that term, ‘Bless her cotton socks’ in the states, Tim? I just looked it up on Google for a definition., Dad used it often: Popular Folk Etymology: A common, though likely invented, story claims the phrase originates from Bishop George Edward Lynch Cotton (1813-1866) in Calcutta, India. The story suggests that because he blessed all items sent to his schools, shipments of knitted footwear were labelled “Cotton’s socks for blessing,” which shortened to “cotton socks”.
Thanks, and keepeth well Sir. 👍🏻🧡🙏🏼
I’ve never heard “Bless her cotton socks,” Gerry, but Jenny deserves a blessing. 😍🙏
You are so right, Tim. Thanks. I’ll pass it on.
TTFN
So true, Tim. Thanks.
Busiest day of the year in the flat today, Tim. Not a photo taken. Bank, Pensions, Insurance companies, The Matron, memory test, deliveries (2) no, three now, not even started the blog yet. Can only get further behind. Two medical referrals done, Neuropathy and ENNT.
Worra day. I keep thinking it can’t go on like this. Hehehe!
Cheers, Tim. 🌼🙏🏼💜