Fido is Back

Remember when I used to write short stories about my fictional cat, name Fido, well he disappeared, as cats often do. But they have nine lives you know. He's shown up in my rendition of Pangur Ban.

Since the invention of the internet, there is a plethora of cat videos.  People just love their cats.  From Egyptian statues and paintings to today's cat videos, cats are shown to be much loved.

In fact, it is not uncommon, that when I am on a zoom meeting, a cat will meander in view of the camera's view.  There are also medieval manuscripts with ornate letters, beautiful colored script, yet faint paw prints running across the page.  This is what must have happened to a monk in the 8th century, who had a cat named Pangur Ban.  This monk was doing his work, and he was distracted by the work his cat was doing.  Upon reflection, the monk realized that both he and Pangur Ban, were plying similar trades. In his poem Pangur Ban, the monk compares the cat's concentrated skill to his own focused composition.

The following poem is a translation of the 8th century Old Irish poem, Pangur Ban, by the Irish poet, Seamus Heaney.  There is no way on earth that I could match Seamus Heaney in verse, never mind my cat, Fido, to Pangur Ban.  Fido is not a mouser.  He plays with the mice he catches.  Hubby rescues the poor mouse and brings it outside, to be released.  Where upon the mouse finds a way to come back in, I'm sure.  It's a version of the game "cat and mouse," but now it's "cat and mouse and human." Anyways, so be it.

Pangur Ban translated by Seamus Heaney

Pangur Ban and I at work,

Adepts, equals, cat and clerk:

His whole instinct is to hunt,

Mine to free the meaning pent.

More than loud acclaim, I love

Books, silence, thought, my alcove.

      Happy for me, Pangur Ban

Child-plays round some mouse's den.

Truth to tell, just being here,

Housed alone, housed together,

Adds up to its own reward:

Concentration, stealthy art.

Next thing an unwary mouse 

Bares his flank: Pangur pounces.

Next thing lines that held and held

Meaning back begin to yield.

All the while, his round bright eye

     Fixes on the wall, while I

Focus my less piercing gaze

On the challenge of the page.

With his unsheathed perfect nails

Pangur springs, exults and kills.

When the longed-for; difficult

Answers come, I too exult.

So it goes.  To each his own.

    No vying.  No vexation.

Taking pleasure, taking pains,

    Kindred spirits, veterans.

Day and night, soft purr, soft pad,

Pangur Ban has learned his trade.

Day and night, my own hard work

Solves the cruxes, makes a mark.

Now, here is my poem, mimicking Pangur Ban.  

Fido and I at work,

Not equal, cat and clerk.

His whole instinct to hunt,

My words, alas, only to punt.

More than loud acclaim I love

Yet across my desk I shove.

Happy for me, Fido's a cat

Content to play with this and that.

Truth to tell, just being here,

Housed together companionship dear,

Adds up to its own reward-

Fido's rhythmic purrings heard.

Next thing I take the laser pointer,

His eyes open, my brave hunter.

Next thing my lines held

But my words blur and then meld.

All the while, her slitty green eye

Fixes on the laser light, while I

Adjust my glasses and gaze

At the messiness upon my page.

With her sharp, perfect claws,

Fido springs, swipes with empty paws.

When the longed-for, proves difficult,

I laugh, I enjoy, I loudly exult!

So it goes.  To each his own.

Love and fun and pleasure shown.

Taking a break refreshes the mood,

Kindred spirits, words are food.

Day and night, I stroke soft fur.

Fido rewards with contented purr.

Day and night, my own muse is chased.

Fido hopes some day to catch, not just chase.

Anyone who has ever had a cat can relate, which is why the original, found in 724, in a monastery of Benedictine monks, is still read and enjoyed.  It is written in Old Irish and found in a book containing other poems written in Old Irish, and Old German, some Latin hymns, astronomical tables, and Greek declensions.  And thirteen hundred years later, Pangur Ban is still copied and enjoyed.  For example, a cat named Pangur Ban appeared in the 2009 animated movie, The Secret of Kells.  As in the poem, the movie has Pangur Ban as a white cat belonging to a monk. There is also a chidren's book The White Cat and the Monk, by Jo Ellen Bogart and sydney Smith.  In 2018, Eddie Reader released a song titled Pangur Ban and the Primrose Lass.  Finally, I'm closing with the song Pangur Ban and the Primrose Lass by Eddie Reader.    song https://youtu.be/S9uFoUhpo28?si=aI5O0S-qoEAm_nbS 

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Has the cat got your tongue?  It's an expression that is asking someone why they're not answering.  Well, my cat didn't have my tongue, he had my iPad.

I've been looking for my iPad for four days.  The last time I saw it, one of my grandchildren was playing a game on it.  I've been looking for it, ever since.

I'd hear it gong for the Angelus.  So three times a day, I'd be alert to listen from what direction the gong sound of the Angelus was coming from. It was in the living room, somewhere.  I dusted.  I vacuumed, lifting furniture.  I searched the bookcase.  I tore the room apart.

NADA!

I prayed to Saint Anthony:

Tony, Tony, please come down.
Something's lost and must be found.

Today I went to my Lay Dominican Chapter.  During the Intercessions in Evening Prayer, I asked that my iPad be found.  Afterward, one of my "cloistered brothers," suggested I go to the APPLE website and have them find it.  I said, "How can they find it?"  He said they'd "ping it."

Not quite.  But he offered me hope.

I have an iPhone. The iPhone and iPad are compatible since they are both Apple products.  I asked Siri, on my iPhone to find my iPad.

Up popped a map of my location.  I saw my street and neighboring streets.  Near the end of my street was a house.  It was my house!  Near my house was a blinking target circle.

Ah, my iPad! At first, I thought it was in my car, outside.  But as I walked through my house, the blinking target moved closer.  Soon the house and target were one. I was in the living room.  But I had looked there...everywhere...but NOT the cat's blanket.

I had never touched that dirty blanket full of cat hair.  But when I picked it up, VOILA!

Deus Gratias!

And thanks to St. Anthony's intercession which prompted me to add the loss of my iPad to the Evening Prayer's intercessions.  And thanks to my "cloistered brother" who suggested that I go to  Apple.  And thanks again St. Anthony for having Siri find the location.  Finally, thanks, Saint Anthony for prompting me to pick up the cat's blanket.

I feel like throwing a party.  (Luke 15: 8-10)

Impossible Love

Avalon by Vanessa Morgan is for cat lovers.  Only a lover can understand the overwhelming, self-denying devotion of the beloved.  Only a cat lover can appreciate Avalon.  However, anyone who has ever experienced all-out obsessive love will be able to identify the emotional soul-lock love between Avalon and the author.  Parents with handicapped children will understand.  Spouses with dependent mates can identify.  Maybe it’s dependency?  Maybe it’s what love is all about—“in sickness and in health.”  Whatever!  Does it matter?  Not to the beloved; it’s wonderful; it’s enriching emotional fulfillment.  Life is forever altered.

How did this happen between Avalon and the author?  Avalon is about a cat and his owner.  Avalon is a Turkish Van—a rare breed.  The author picked up Avalon off the street and brought him home. He didn’t adapt well.  He terrorized the other pets and even the people that Vanessa Morgan brought in their lives.  Having had a cat like this, I understand the situation.  Everyone wants to get rid of the offending cat, but the cat owner feels it must defend the cat.  No one understands.  Besides, Avalon helped Vanessa grow up.  By that I mean, the cat and the owner were  sympathetico.  They understood each other.  How can you get rid of your soul mate?

 Vanessa in explaining the emotional bond in the conclusion states:
Many argue that my relationship with Avalon was unhealthy, but it was actually the opposite.  We became emotionally stable beings because we had each other.  We had both been our worst selves when we met, but we had bonded through an unwavering desire to be love unconditionally and to love just as much in return.  What we thought impossible, we had found with each other.

Vanessa even used Avalon in her work.  The cat was a character in her books and movies.  Vanessa and Avalon were a team.  You couldn’t have one without the other. 

There was one boyfriend, Gilles, who understood.  He was a keeper.  Anyone who understood Avalon and the beautiful bond between Vanessa and Avalon was special.  I was happy to read in the ending that Gilles was a part of Vanessa’s life.  Love expands.

If you’re a cat lover, you’ll love Avalon by Vanessa Morgan.  If you’re someone who loves with abandon, who jumps in with their whole heart, soul, and body, you’ll enjoy this memoir.  I know I did.

Links:

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Avalon-Heartwarming-True-Cat-Story-ebook/dp/B00XC1NE4I/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1438957388&sr=1-1&keywords=avalon+vanessa+morgan

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25505135-avalon?from_search=true&search_version=service

Auntie Mae

My friend Priscilla loves animals.  She has more than a couple of dogs and cats.  She can't afford vacations because it would costs too much money to board her pets.  And who would be crazy enough to offer to take care of all the critters.

It also costs quite a bit to feed and take care of veterinary needs.  So she makes cat and dog toys on the side.  My cat likes her cat naps.  These are a soft mats that I place inside her carrier, or surfaces I don't won't cat fur all over.

As an attraction to catch people's attention, she uses this three-four foot high doll.  Her name is Auntie Mae, and is Priscilla's alter-ego.  Auntie Mae goes to flea markets and tries to sell her wares.

If you love animals, why don't you contact Priscilla and ask about her toys and cat naps, and find out what else, she sells.   dogsila@yahoo.com

Kitty and the Granddaughter

Add caption

Once upon a time there was a little granddaughter that had a favorite chair to sit in, whenever she came to visit her grandparents.  She had tried the big recliner that Grandpa always sat in, but that was not comfortable for her.  It was too hard to get up and into, and impossible to get out of.  She also tried the couch that was Grandma's favorite place.  But that wasn't cosy enough, unless Grandma was sitting beside her, reading a story.

So Grandpa bought his little granddaughter her very own chair.  It was perfect for her.  It was pretty.  It fit her size.  It was comfortable,  It rocked if she wanted it to.  And it was nice and soft.  She liked it very much.

In Grandma and Grandpa's house lived a big bad wolf a naughty kitty.  Whenever the Granddaughter was in the same room, or just happened to cross the kitty's path, that naughty kitty would hiss at her.  This frightened the little girl.  Besides, that kitty was always watching the granddaughter with an evil eye.  And that's not nice.

One time when the granddaughter was not visiting her grandparents, the kitty had the nerve to jump up and into the little girl's chair.  She even took a nap in it!

But just then, the granddaughter came to visit.  When she came into the room and saw the kitty asleep in her favorite chair, she screamed.  "Out, Out!  Bad Kitty."  And then the granddaughter HISSED at the kitty!

The kitty was so frightened that she jumped off the chair, and scampered out of the room so fast that she knocked over a plant.

Later on, Grandma found the kitty hiding under her bed.

And the naughty kitty never took a nap in the granddaughter's favorite chair, again.