Tag Archive: da Meow



Oskiz for cats

I had a sleepless night, finally making coffee a little before 6am.

The sad news is that the neighbour’s cat died too last night on the way to the vets.

Andrew suggested that she was a star. I never thought about that before, a Blogstarlette… She was as was Cloro, her father before her, and Lixo before them. They were all stars over the blogger world through my blog.

I’m sure those hieroglyphics on the base say “Oskiz for cats”. They deserve one.

Thank you all for your kind words, they are appreciated immensely.

I can’t decide whether Clorinha is rolling around in that big catnip field in the sky with a delirious look, or that she’s found the eternal fridge and waiting for her mincemeat or corned beef to be served.

She was always hopeful.

Full of hopez

Haz cornz beef?

Clorinha is the fifth cat to pass on since I have lived here. Meow Meow and da Meow were both poisoned, Lixo was killed by a teenager with a slingshot, Cloro we suspect was catnapped because of his terrible good looks, and now Clorinha.

I am not down, as I expect another wanting kitten will cross my path, maybe one of Kitty’s kittens. She hasn’t been around for two days, I expect she is a mother by now.

I was raised by a large ginger Tom, who slept with me in the bassinet and then my cot. It was he who taught me Meowese and turned my life into a catperson. Like Rachel who substituted her deceased cat with dogs, I couldn’t; I’m not bowlingual.

Except my travelling years, there has always been a cat in my life, or short periods expecting one.

Last night one of the regulars at the bar suggested the world needs more people who have the Dom (way) with animals; the world would be a better place.

I replace my grief for passing pets with the philosophy that I am here to care for them while they’re here, once they go ‘over there’, my job is done. I do not own my cats, heaven forbid, cats won’t be owned.

The old story that “A dog has a master, a cat has staff” was never so true.

Every Saturday is Caturday on my blog Some Animals are Crackers, there you can get an idea that I think animals are fun. When we laugh together with them, we care.

Now I have to go plant a tree.



The planting is done. Clorinha has her very own guava tree.

Clorinh's guava tree alongside the palm of my other neighbour's fox terrier

Clorinha’s guava tree alongside the palm of my other neighbour’s fox terrier

I am debating

Yes, I know it’s Wednesday, I know it’s not Monday which is when I should have been writing.

I am not even sure if this will in fact be a post.

This maybe just a figment of your imagination.

If you can read this, then you’ve got a good imagination, because I am still debating whether or not to write it.

This week is screwed. Split days, which means I get to go to work twice. If you have to go to work once a day and think that’s bad, try split days and go twice.

Rats! Well, rat, actually. Monday I woke at my customary bladder summoning hour for relief. The drain cover in the shower had been popped, which meant I had a visitor; a rat. It was returning through the kitchen that I spied it race behind the stove. I thought great, I now have a cat. I got Lixo from the living room where he was preening and planted him before the stove and banged on the side. The rat appeared.

The rat looked at Lixo, Lixo looked at the rat.

It was a granddaddy of rats, low sleek and dark grey mottled sodden fur having not long ago appeared from my sewerage. From nose to tail the rat was as long as my cat.

The two beasts, the rat and my stalwart guardian of the house against rodents, looked at each other.

Lixo then looked up at me… “WTF is that?” was how I interpreted the quizzical look on his face.

It was at this moment the rat decided to make his escape through the front door that I had already opened.

Lixo merely watched him go. Then looked up at me again, “Has it really gone?” was how I interpreted this perplexed look.

da Meow RIP - He was poisoned

Lixo needs to grow a bit before being expected to deal with such leviathans.

Had it been da Meow the rat would have been dispatched in the blink of an eye. da Meow was a ratter, he used to go hunting them along the canal beside the boteqim, one or two a day, then munch on them under Raimundo’s car to the bemusement of the regulars in the botequim.

da Meow often bore scars of his ratting forays, like the bite near his right eye in the photo.

My little Lixo needs to grow, at least until he’s bigger than a rat himself.

Now it’s football time. Flamengo vs Lanús of Argentina.


%d bloggers like this: