Achieved so far today


Lovely story, Fanta. I do wish cats would say where they had been. Shut in somewhere, I suppose, and for a whole week, poor thing. Could have turned out a lot worse.

One of ours, our late lovely tortie, Perlita, got shut in a neighbour’s house a block away by presumably sneaking in while they were putting their suitcases in the car to go away for the Easter long weekend. After four days of worry, on Easter Monday afternoon, she strolled back in, not too distressed - perhaps she had found a source of water, the toilet, probably. Five minutes later the phone rang and the neighbour (whom we did not know) explained that Perlita had run out of the house the minute they opened the door. Then they spotted the posters we’d (illegally) stapled to all the telegraph poles and put two and two together and called us.


I can’t really match a 6 year missing cat knocking on my door.

We went to #1 son’s house in Northampton. He’s looking to buy & drove is around some of the villages. There are some beautiful places around & about there. Britain is a lovely place when you look in the right spots.

Came home to find the back lawn doing a faie immitation of the washing when I leave a tissue in something. Strewn with white & pale grey feathers…I must assume the Sparrowhawk has has pigeon(s) for tea again.l … & not in a “how do you take it, Vicar ?” sort of way.


No, no: he was a wedding present six years ago, but he had been missing for only (only!) five weeks. Poor silly moggin. I wonder whether he’ll be over here demanding belly-rubs once he’s been let out of the house again…

Yes, parts of N’hants are lovely. My parents lived just outside it, in a place called Adderbury, which is utterly gorgeous for most of itself and only has a few nasty new dwellings.

Feather-bits of dead pigeon are a bit of a nuisance to tidy up, but luckily they blow away after a bit.



Adderbury near Banbury ? Lovely place if so. Lovely place even if not.

Aaah. 6 weeks. More sense, less mystery. Still remarkable though.

Looked at Towcester, Dallington & a few others. This is Dallington …


Got any free glue?


Sorry, put this in the wrong thread. This was on Sunday afternoon.


I wonder if they will amend the notice to say the puss has been found. Our neighbours were all so sympathetic when Perlita went missing that we thought we owed it to them to go round and scrawl ‘Found, thanks!’ on all the leaflets we’d stapled to the telephone poles, leave them for a day or two, then take them down. It was quite the task as we’d covered several blocks, but we also had help with that from a lovely neighbour.

People would be glad to hear of a happy ending. As someone already said, so often it isn’t.


Janie, tilt your monitor a bit - they have amended it.


I’ll bet that little cat has been spoiled these last 2-3 days. :grinning:


Oh, goodness, Hedgers, I looked straight through the ‘Found!’ and wondered why I was having difficulty deciphering the original message. Perfectly clear now that I know it’s there.

Another of our cats got accidentally locked out after we’d gone to bed, sheer carelessness on our part, there were guests in the house so we were distracted. She was twelve years old and it was the middle of January in Ottawa, going down to about -25C or worse at night. We felt terrible of course and spent the whole of the next day and the day after that calling her and stapling the posters, begging people to check their sheds just like your Burmese cat’s people. Only we feared she couldn’t possibly have survived the night, two nights as it turned out. How she did, we’ll never know, but at dusk on the second day she strolled in calmly, smelling rather strongly of smoke.

Ruddy moggies, they never tell what happened, do they?


It’s against the Code.


Ahhh… Dear Pippa … She did know how to worry you :grinning::smile_cat::smile_cat::smile_cat:


That’s the one, LadySusan! Tommy the Greek cat went astray for a few days as well and was found so on the whole we have had happy endings to our runaways.


Our Hecuba, when I was about ten, went missing very thoroughly, and we all went out to look for her for days and days and days, calling and searching, and eventually after about a week gave up and thought she was gone forever, thanking our stars that we still had her daughter Cassandra and were not catless; almost two weeks later she came home, dragging herself by her forepaws and in a terrible state. We put her carefully in a cardboard box so she stayed flat (she cried horribly when she was moved at all) and took her to the vet, or rather my mother did, and her account was “He said, She has broken her pelvis, and I thought, Oh dear, poor Mrs Purr, she is going to have to be destroyed, but then he said, But she’ll be fine once I have set it, all you have to do is keep her immobile for six weeks.”

She was fine, too, except that she could no longer jump, and her hunting days were over. It was a terrible blow to her: she was a famous mouser, bringing one or sometimes several mice to the back doorstep every night for my mother to find in the morning – or sometimes, if she got hungry, just the teeth, which was a considerable surprise the first time because we couldn’t make out what they were.

A few weeks after her recovery I was looking out of the window on the stairs, which had a view straight down between the rows of raspberry canes to the Jerusalem artichokes, where there were always mice, and saw Hecuba in careful negotiation with Cassandra over a mouse which Cassy had just caught; then Hecuba picked it up and carried it proudly to my mother where she was forking over the vegetable patch ready for some peas to be planted, and presented it and got all the praise which had always been her due. Then she took it away back to Cassy, who ate it.

After that she sometimes brought a mouse, always very publicly, and was always praised, and I don’t think she ever worked out that we knew exactly what was going on. But she also brought bits of bread she had caught under next-door’s bird table, and those really were her own catch.


That’s priceless, Fanta!

My daughter was telling me of a cat who would catch mice on the wrong side of a fence with her front paws and mew piteously for her person to go round and fetch the mouse. The person would go round to the other side and pry her paws apart and release the mouse, to the utter disgust of the cat, who clearly thought her person was too stupid to have understood what was required of her.


Not so much omerta as omiaowta.


Ouch! (grin)


On the home front. I cleared a large area of overgrown garden, that’s freed me up to get at an overgrown and unkept old compost heap. In there has always been a stray laurel bush. I spent bits & pieces of the day teasing it’s roots out.

This evening I gave it one big push … THIS is a laurel root !!


God’s teeth, Armers! Well done for quelling it.