Wheeled transport

Jamie doesn't mind the motion of the wheelbarrow now, and the hay makes a nice warm surface to ride on. He can even chew it a bit, although he doesn't really know what the sheep see in it.

The only problem is being stranded when your driver wanders off to do another job. He can't work out himself how to make it go.

On reflection

Jelly's sure she didn't look like this in the mirror in the bedroom...

Bedded down

We've finally had time to pick up Snowy's magnificent new bed, made for her by her Grandpaw from polished wood and foam rubber from old sofa cushions cut to size. It was too large to fit into his car so it came home on the tray of the ute.
She wasn't sure about it to start with. SO had to show her it really was for her and not another piece of human furniture that she's not allowed to jump onto.
Then she had to check it all out. I had put her old bedding on it to make it smell like home, but even so, it was strange...

and required a thorough investigation and a good sniff around...

and underneath.
A couple of unwelcome visitors had to be evicted. They were trying out the facilities for warmth.

Finally, when the soft furnishings had been dug up and rearranged to her satisfaction, Snowy settled down for the night.

How much wood can a woodcat chuck?

The black and white brothers are self appointed load inspectors, particularly when it comes to a consignment of potential warmth. Unfortunately the long rains of early spring, the impassible quagmire that was the raceway access to the hill and the fact that all the suitably cured deadwood left is high on slippery slopes added up to the inevitable. We had to just buy firewood instead, like some sort of normal person. It's the first time in 3 years, but it's still very annoying. Had we had 36 hours in a day we might have got a few loads with the wheelbarrow but with sheep inconveniently lambing all over the place we ran out of time. And steam. So we compromised with just one ute load of ready cut wood.

What a luxury it was to just heave it in from the verandah. SO did split some larger logs with the mallet by way of anger management therapy, but for the rest there was no real work. Just dry redgum ready to burn. Everything brought home on the ute or in the trailer is subject to sniffing for quarantine and quality by a representative of the furry house pets. Jamie was concerned we hadn't quite filled the tray completely,

but after making sure there was no-one in the cab and the vehicle wouldn't suddenly move off,

he ascertained that the load was of the best wood available and had no mice, rats or random wildlife among it.

.

Spring is sprung

The grass is riz,

I wonder where them birdies is?

(with apologies to Ogden Nash or whoever wrote the poem)

This is why Jamie has two bells on his collar and a daylight curfew. He loves birds. We'd much rather he started liking rats more, but it's the first day of spring and it's finally stopped raining so we'll grant him this one day free in the garden to enjoy the sun. No birds were harmed. They're singing a lot though so they're clearly happy about this too.

FBI cats

I don't know what these cats are up to, but they posted on either side of the driveway and as soon as Snowy the unruly beagle had gone obliviously past, they exchanged a meaningful glance...

...and turned to follow her. The Feline Bureau of Investigation.

They're either monitoring her movements closely or they are now her bodyguards.

Battening down

It's rained pretty solidly for the last 24 hours, which is wonderful really. Our tanks are overflowing, the springs are full and the pumps are working overtime. I will remember this come January and wish for it again. Right now it means dashing out when the showers lighten to do jobs outside whilst trying not to get stuck in the mud. Our little valley is a natural waterway but even without interpreting the lay of the land in a geographical fashion the layman could tell by the water flowing over his ankles. The dogs are largely confined to quarters and are largely over it.

They'll get a long walk as soon as we have more than 15 minutes of clear weather at a time. The cats handle confinement much better. They just settle down and wait. Minor disputes over prime sleeping spots notwithstanding.

"I can see my house from here..."

"It's underneath me!" Jamie and Jeremy are a bit puzzled about how to get down off the roof. It was all a bit of fun to begin with but they don't remember how they climbed up the shadehouse wall to get there and now they're in trouble. Jamie peers over the edge hopefully but the bull nose veranda is a bit steep and slippery and only leads to the gutter.

Jeremy is investigating alternative routes, but the veranda ends in an abrupt drop.


The two cats swap notes on their investigations. They change places and continue to look for a way back.

They'll discover how to get down eventually. Or Jamie will just start to yell for help until I get out the ladder. Again.

Under cover

It's abundantly obvious on frosty mornings that simple shelters do wonders for keeping the ice off things like seedlings, tender plants, citrus trees, the ground and paws.


We use this principle in the fledgling citrus grove to protect the young trees. Frosts only occur here for about 3 months of the year so in our typical slapdash fashion we haven't bothered to construct anything permanent. Hopefully in a few years the trees will be big and tough and grown up enough to face their own frost demons so they won't need our help. It all looks a bit Steptoe and Son, with various lengths of old canvas, random lengths of unused fabric, damaged horse rugs, assorted tarpaulins and off-cuts of shadecloth propped haphazardly over any plant that needs it. Still, it works.


The trees don't need to be kept warm, not by human standards anyway. 2 - 3 degrees above freezing is enough to deter damage and the makeshift covers ensure the ice crystals don't touch the trees. The cats prefer ice crystals not to touch them either.

Breakfast barrier

When it's really cold SO sometimes has his breakfast in the big room by the fire. To do this successfully however requires some sort of division be used between him and reaching cat paws,


or he'll end up with everyone vying for the contents of his plate.


(Everyone with fur has had breakfast, by the way, they just fancy boiled eggs and toast)

Cat on a stick.

This is Jelly looking for mice, other small creatures or something we can't fathom, from her vantage point on the compost heap post.


She'll sit there for ages, looking intently. Sometimes a tiny twitch of her tail gives away the fact that she's thinking, but the rest of her remains completely still with the patience of a martial arts master.


This kind of self discipline is too much for the boys, whose idea of gardening is to look after the tools. From a sunny position.

Waiting for GoCat

Some winter mornings are pancake mornings. Jamie loves pancake mornings. He loves all home cooked cakey things but he especially loves warm pancakes. He prefers his without toppings.

Sometimes the cook's a bit slow, and needs to be spoken to.


He looks hopeful when the cook turns around to put something on the table but it's not pancakes. Not yet. It's disappointing. Jamie's not so keen on coffee.

Disclaimer: we do not feed our cats at the table. Really. They just live in hope that we will.

Cat-splatted rat

This morning Jamie refused to come down from the top of the 8 foot high bookshelf.


A while back I said I didn't think a rodent would come into the house being stalked as it is at night by cats. I was wrong. Jamie had cornered a rat - on top of the picture rail!


Yes, that's a real rat. In our dining room. Oh, the shame!


Eventually between SO yelling and Jamie's brother Jeremy prowling round below, the rat was scared over to where Jamie could reach it. In a Spiderman-like manoeuvre that was sadly too quick for the camera, Jamie belted the rat at full reach with both front paws, knocking it to the ground.


Jamie got to the floor in hot pursuit in a series of lighting quick hops just as the rat ran into the kitchen. (Future note to self: close doors when rodents are baled up to limit chase space).


An epic battle ensued around the wood oven where Jay did a supurb showjump-over-the-woodbasket routine and stopped the rat from running behind the stove. Three times. We are pretty inept at catching rats, clearly. Jamie tried to catch it by jumping on it and biting it. This simple rat-dispatching procedure was hampered by me trying to hit the rat with the ash shovel and SO with the fire poker, having first protected himself by putting on my kitchen oven gloves.

I felt a bit sorry for the rat who was putting up an admirable fight, but it was only a few minutes before SO managed to pick it up with the oven mitt and take it outside.

Jamie seemed disappointed and went back to the top of the shelf to see if he could find another one. Jeremy sniffed around the stove for the rest of the day, sure Jamie had put it down here somewhere...

Boxed from the box!

Jeremy the Gloucester Old Spot Cat loves boxes. He also loves to get into bags, sacks, rugs, discarded pullovers and washing on the floor, but he loves boxes best. He's reserved rights to every new one that enters the house,

...and he maintains that if another cat should challenge him to this...

...he'll box it's ear!

Only a mother could love...

Jamie! The World's Most Annoying Cat. He's the one on the bottom right.

If he wants to go out he'll let you know in no uncertain terms. If he wants to come in he's even louder. He'll try to sit on your lap during meals and sample your fare so we implemented Cat Exclusion Zones (CEZs) including wherever plates are. So naturally he takes great notice of this and tries to sit on the table instead. When he's evicted from that he'll hop up onto the kitchen bench to see what's cooking.

He can look quite sweet, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But it does, quite quickly when a new block left is out of the fridge to soften and he's licking the top of it. He loves baked goods and we have to hide our fresh bread in the highest cupboard when it comes out of the oven to cool or he'll chew the crust off it. He does have endearing traits such as only stealing and eating the muffins I've baked myself. He doesn't eat anything from Woolworths.

He sleeps in the most awkward places. He loves woolen fleece and will even sleep on it whilst still wet in the bucket. He rolls on the computer desk and rearranges everything although we can only understand his filing system in terms of "scrunched up", "partially shredded" or "on the floor".

Cats tend to be either mousers or bird-murderers. Jamie is both if we don't keep his audible collar on. It has a bell so we can also tell where he is in the garden by listening. This has lead to his nickname of "Jay-bell". He is 10 years old now and dribbles when he's hungry. If he's hungry there is no peace. Most of the existing photos of him are when he is asleep as that's the only time he is still enough.

Yet, we love him. He loves us too apparently, and makes a huge effort to tell us. His purr is so loud that we have to turn the TV volume up if he's sitting on our lap. He'll climb on top of anything in to get to your lap including books, laptops, knitting and crafts involving sharp things. He tries to sit on my (fast moving) knees if I'm spinning wool. He meows at the bedroom door in the morning for admittance to the CEZ on the bed. Attempts to sleep with him there are futile. Provided you can sleep through the noise you will either wake up with deadened legs or a face full of fur. He wants to be where we are, no matter what we're doing. Even now he's on my lap doing circles with his needle-feet and getting in the way of the keyboard.

On first seeing Jamie a friend said "hey that cat looks like Hitler!"

The resemblance doesn't end there.