Cat Forum: What is a Moggy?

Today we are taking a break from our interviews with the totally pawsome cats we have met. But don’t worry. They’ll be back next month when we talk to the folks at Three Chatty Cats.

Mom finally brought home a decent book. It’s called Catopedia: A Fascinating Collection of Feline Curiosities. It’s all about cats, so of course it’s fascinating. Unlike those human books she usually gets.

Snoops: So Kommando, what did you think of the Catopedia?

Kommando: It was really good, but it needed better editing.  A lot of the words were misspelled. Too many “u’s” and “s” where there should have been some other letter.

Snoops: That’s because the lady who wrote it, Justine Hankins, is British.

Image result for british english language

Kommando: That’s like English, right? Like the language? If the lady is from the same place as the language, why can’t she spell right?

Snoops: Moving along, what else do you remember?

Kommando: Well, I didn’t think it was very nice of her to insult us.

Snoops: She doesn’t even know us.

Kommando: It doesn’t matter. She called us moggies.

Snoops: That’s not an insult. It just means we don’t have pedigrees.

Kommando: Nope. You’re wrong. Look at what it says on page 66: “Initially a variant on the woman’s name Maggie, a name which was given to cows from the 18th century and was also used to describe a scruffy woman.” I am not a cow. Nor am I scruffy.

Snoops: It’s nothing personal. I’m sure if she met you, she’d know you were a cat.

Kommando: That’s not the point. Did you notice that it rhymes with doggy? She better not come over here and call me that. I’ll shed on her.

Snoops: I’ll be sure to let her know. I thought it was really interesting that in the 10th century King Hywel Dda of Wales said that if you killed someone’s cat you had to pay them enough grain to physically cover the whole cat.

Kommando: Wow. I wonder what I’d be worth?

Snoops: Less than me. I’m bigger.

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Kommando: It probably would have been better to have been a mouser for the Royal Mail. The book says that they were paid a shilling a week between 1868 and 1984. Just think, if all those cats put their money together they could have bought land. By the end, they would have had enough to get one of those seats in government.

Snoops: I don’t think they sell government seats.

Kommando: Are you sure?

Snoops: I was a little disappointed to see that the 10 Cat Museums they listed didn’t have a single one that is run by a cat.

Kommando: Probably because the book is for people. People aren’t interested in the good stuff.

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Snoops: People are a little weird sometimes.

Kommando: Did you see that Kitty Litter was invented by a guy here in Michigan?

Snoops: Good thing since Mom and Dad won’t let us go outside.

Kommando: Yeah. But now they make it out of clay, wood pellets, recycled paper, silica gel (whatever that is, it sounds disgusting, like going on Jello), walnut shells and whole kernel corn.

Snoops: Walnut shells and whole corn? What about our delicate little paws?

Kommando: I wonder if the humans have tried going on it?

Snoops: Probably not. They seem to like that soft stuff on a roll.

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Kommando: Did you notice that Queen Victoria likes cats? That’s good for us.

Snoops: It would be if she wasn’t dead. The current one is a dog person.

Kommando: That’s unfortunate.

Snoops: It’s OK. A lot of the government buildings have official mousers. Those cats live in nice houses.

Kommando: I guess those British people are OK.

Rating: Image result for cat paw drawingImage result for cat paw drawingImage result for cat paw drawingImage result for one half

(Kommando refused to give two paws up to a book that called her a cow.)

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Proceeds from the sale of the Catopedia go to the Battersea Dogs and Cats Home in London, est.1860. If you are interested, you can learn more about them here.

(pictures courtesy of Google Images – except the one of us)


Can Demons Possess a Car?

Yes, I’m finally back. (And those of you who didn’t realize I was missing should not expect any chocolate eggs this year. The Easter Bunny and I are long-time BFFs, and he knows these things.)

I’m concerned about my car. It seems to have developed a bad attitude, at best. And possibly an alternative personality. You may recall that I got my Hyundai Elantra about a year ago. It was wonderful to drive, especially following the car with bad tires and no heat.

The first sign came late last year, after one of the early snows. In our part of Michigan, winter generally starts deceptively gentle with a couple of light snowfalls. After one of these, my car required a little extra effort to get out of its parking place at work. I figured I had just parked the front tires on ice and didn’t worry about it.

The evil side came out a few weeks later. We have a long, wide driveway and a broken snowblower. And lots of ice. One day, I turned into the driveway and stopped. Rather, the car stopped. Right at the entrance to the driveway. (It did have the courtesy to get off the road.)

The usual tricks of rocking back and forth or swearing did nothing. Finally, I asked my son to get it to move. (It must be somewhere in the male gene, because he did it.) While he was working to move it, my daughter came home. She had to wait in the road to be able to get in. (There are advantages to living off the beaten path – she wasn’t an impediment to lots of traffic.)

Her car had been having no trouble in the ice and snow. When she pulled in that day, her car got stuck. I think my car laughed. Not too long after that, the fuel line in my daughter’s car sprung a leak. Coincidence? I think not.

Pulling out one day, my car got stuck on the ice again. My son brought out the kitty litter, and I was good to go. The cats did not appreciate him using the good stuff.

Pretty soon, the kitty litter stopped working. I’m sure the car decided that we’d solved the ice problem.

Next trick was to get a tire caught in the frozen snow at the edge of the driveway. Like much of the country, it’s been really cold here. Unlike much of the country, we really haven’t been drowned in snow. We don’t have the huge snowdrifts that scream out, “Stop! You’d be an idiot to drive here!” So, all of a sudden, I no longer knew how to back out of the driveway. Then we’d shovel, kitty litter, try to move the car, swear, and repeat. A lot. I don’t generally swear, and now I remember why –there aren’t that many words and they’re worthless for fixing the problem.

My husband works in maintenance at a school district. He brought home some incredibly hideous carpet to put under the wheels when the car gets stuck. I’m not sure whether it’s the traction or the car cringing from the pattern, but it works.

It appeared that the car was running out of tricks. I thought maybe we were good to go.

Then apparently it realized that its real enemy wasn’t me, it was my son. He was the one who kept rescuing me. So it started turning into snowbanks when he left his friends’ houses. Nothing serious. Wouldn’t want to harm its good looks. Just enough to require digging out.

The car was designed in Korea and built here. I know it’s been tested in snow and ice.

I think that I have somehow offended the Snow Queen. I wonder if an ice cream cake would be a good peace offering?