It's (Eventually) a Hocus Pocus Hallowe'en!!

OOPS!

I missed it this year! I had AAAALL these big plans....which went the way that big plans tend to go! So here we are, more than a week behind the celebration schedule and no Hallowe'en kitty pic...is this one of the signs of a coming Apocalypse? Ha! No - I'm just fritzy still and things take their own sweet time...

Fear not, compadres, for a picture is finally here! I had SO many options spinning in my brain but I finally decided on a particularly witchy theme, prompted by the long awaited release of a cult classic follow up movie - guess which one!

 

For this I used my watercolours - Mijello Gold and Winsor & Newton with Artistro's metallic shimmers, Faber Castell Classic Colour pencils,  Dr P H Martin's Irridescent calligraphy ink (copper plate gold), Dr P H Martin's Bombay black India ink, and Tachikawa School G Pen nib pen for line work and detail. It turns out that Leonard's actually quite comfy in a frock. Roomy, he says. 

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 I put a spell on you! Finally! 

Happy belated Hallowe'en!! - Shroo xxx

Gusty Fluffs

 

     It's windy out!

    Looking back at the collection of kitty cartoons I'm seeing a bit of a pattern.... Every year we get the blustery, fur-ruffling windy-woos - if proof of the resulting bonkers devastation were needed then here it very much be! -

2019 -

2020 -

2021 -

2022 -

....told ya!
 

A Fond Farewell, In Full Technicolour

 

     Losing a pet is a trauma equal to, sometimes greater than losing a human from your life's circle. People without pets will never comprehend the loss. We grieve more, I think, for animals because our relationships with them are so uncomplicated, so simple. Humans are so complex and we have to come to terms with so many negative emotions - anger, resentment, guilt, bitterness... None of those things are present when an animal dies, just the pain of the void that they leave in our lives - their unconditional love, loyalty, trust, comfort and the joy they bring. 

    To pay tribute is almost an impossible thing as nothing really seems fitting or equal to the task. The only way I know how to express my love and loss is through my art, and, in some way through my words. In drawing a picture to represent Gizmo's journey from this world to his eternal realm, I wanted to reflect the joy that he brought to all of us. Inside, I crumpled and felt only the pain of loss as I have before with other feline companions, but Gizmo was strong - they all have been - and deserved something equal to the value he held for myself and especially for my Husband, for whom he has been a constant friend these past eighteen years.

    This is a happy picture, although painful to draw and paint. There are aspects which reflect the sadness.... The two sisters, Missy and Sapphira comfort each other as their older brother leaves them behind, although the road to his happy hunting ground is closer for them than for their younger adopted brother, Leonard. He sits close by, a little on his own, bidding farewell to Gizmo whilst waving to Harvey, his brother and best friend, lost to us in 2019 who I know he misses dreadfully. They are all sat down, firmly rooted in our world, as he floats towards his ginger furred litter brother, and Harvey, the latecomer to the family, the other grumpy old man, he and Gizmo studiously ignoring each other even when curled up on the same small cushion...

    But Gizmo is pictured still close to his earthly family, still almost within our reach. He filled our lives every day - we are still seeing him in everything we do, hearing his demanding meows, feeling where his furry, purry body would snuggle. We hold on to him just for a while... Ahead of him he has candy floss clouds that catch the love we send, an endless supply of heavenly sausages and even Harvey is willing to share one of his snuggly wubbies with his curmudgeonly compatriot. Sadness, loss and joy, expressed in a way which, at a future date, even my husband may be able to enjoy. 

     For now, it stays inside a folder with other emotive pieces. The record is made, the catharsis has been processed, and the colour and joy that Gizmo gave us will be held as a record never to be forgotten.

Festive Fun and Frolics - Merry Christmas! xxx

 It's that festive time again - and I'm late with a Christmas post! *tsk!* Even with everything closed in a pandemic, with no guests or visitors or events to attend it would appear that I am STILL not organised at all! 

    The end of the year brought a flurry of activity, commissions and orders, which was a little unexpected and entirely fabulous. Commissions CAN be a nightmare, but experience has made me picky and I choose the clients I know I can enjoy working with. It's been a sheer delight to meet some completely gorgeous people and to know that my work adorns their walls (and in some cases, themselves!) and makes them happy. I can't tell you the joy that brings me! 

    I've not had a chance to work on my usual Christmas as Yule pieces, with the exception of my "Spirit of Hope" Yule exhibition piece, and I never share commission work without permission, so the offering I have for you to celebrate the season is a series of little illustrations I made for my Husband's Christmas cards from the cats, Father Christmas and, oh yes - me! I am hoping, in the months ahead, to make this blog a lot more interactive, with more tutorials, product information, work processes and the like, similar to my old blog site. For now, though, I offer you my kitties in Christmas mode which I hope very much that you will enjoy. 

    Much love to all this festive season. May light and love follow all of you this coming year. Stay safe and well - Shroo xxx

Happy Black Cat Appreciation Day!

Happy Black Cat Appreciation Day 2020

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Our lucky black cats - no matter what level of buggerlugs they choose to be, our lives are richer for having them as our crazy companions/overlords! Love from Shroo, Mr Shroo and (left to right) Missy, Gizmo, Sapphira and Harvey xxxxx

Autumn Tales From The Lunch Tin

More "Tales from the Lunch Tin"!

It's that time again... The passing of Autumn is recorded in the antics of our feline family. Their adventures are seemingly neverending and are constantly entertaining to me and Hubby, whose lunch tin contains one of these updates every day. Here are some of the latest daily chapters...

 

 

    The children have new beds! In fact, they have a whole newly furnished annex to stay safe and warm in at night. Snuggly igloos, warm plushy cushions and even a little kitty duplex fill what was a barren utility space, transforming a stark spot into a comfy, toasty haven for the babies to enjoy, during rainy days or chilly nights. They've each chosen their favourites, apart from Leonard, who can't be trusted there at all. From the great beyond, the distant harp music and tinkling bells accompany a heavenly Harvey's Noel Coward tones - "Marvelous wubbies! Must have ALL the lovely wubby snugglies! Fabulous, dear boy, fabulous!" The Colonel approves. 

 

    Autumn chases rats with the falling leaves as they skitter into the garden to steal scraps from the chicken coop and the hutches. To Leonard, this is a positive Black Friday event - a veritable bargain hunt of rodenty goodness! He's focussed, determined and gleefully lethal... It's a massacre!

 

 

    The big sycamore in the garden has held on to its leaves like a spoiled child gripping a lollipop, but gravity and the season's weather finally ripped the curling leaves from the branches, sending them hurtling to the ground like a drunk on a dancefloor. It came as something of a surprise to Gizmo, not the quickest on his paws, and as a treat to Sapphira who lost all reason in her pursuit of airborne combatants. Sapphira went nuts. Gizmo composted. 

 

 

Gizmo has ways of clearing a room so that he can have the comfiest seat.

#bumsmells 

 

 

 

    Leonard takes one look at the weather and refuses to move, a furry stealth emo.
Everyone embraces their inner couch potato on occasion, but Leonard is the Messiah of all soft-furnishing-based root vegetables. He is the expert. He is the One - the Neo of slovenliness.... ninja skill invisibility...until he snores, farts and wakes to furtively consume his own body weight in nippity-biscuits.

 

    Gizmo is not a rain lover. While the miniature maniac and the idiot play in the puddles and the big, splooshy raindrops, Gizmo is very much aware that, basically. he just gets wet. He is prepared to tolerate this state of affairs only because he is ALSO aware that looking like a drowned rat will guarantee being wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel, cuddled, brushed and fed his favourite treats. He will sacrifice dignity for luxury at the drop of a hat.

    As Gizmo staggers unsteadily out of the kitty house with pasted fur, looking like a bomb blast survivor with alarmingly moist shell shock, it's clear that his sister's assault upon his person has had significant and devastating effects.
    While Gizmo recouperates, Sapphira, undeterred, employs her overactive saliva glands in her own ear-to-bumhole 'Andromeda Strain' style cleansing ritual until her big brother returns for more feline waterboarding.
    As a cat hairstylist, she makes up in enthusiasm what she lacks in restraint.

 

 

  Gizmo's entrepreneurialism knows no bounds.
Fed up with 'singing' for his supper - during what appears to be a distressing national sausage shortage - he has discovered a potential solution to his dilemma...
Whilst wandering around the fields and farms he happened upon a couple of lage wild sausage plants, which are well rooted and prospering in an undisclosed location. Gizmo will now impatiently await the harvest, although to his surprise these sausage plants are surprisingly active and may put up a bit of a fight making collecting sausages a lot tougher that he originally planned....

 

    Gizmo has finally discovered how to harness the mighty power of the sun itself - in the form of a hot water bottle with snuggly cover, pre-approved by his Heavenly brother-from-another-mother, Harvey.

 

    Mummy is working a piece for an exhibition. This time it's a textile work which means that copious amounts of embroidery thread dance seductively before the captivated eyes of Leonard Shrewsbane. Upon being given his own piece, Leonard embarks on an emotional thrill ride of blissful, overexcited insanity which results in a shredded footstool cover... along with an equally shredded foot.

 

    Sapphira is in her element now - finally - in her role of mercenary protector of the Shrewsbane's space. Tense as a piano wire garrote, she paces like a rabid wolverine on speed, awaiting directives from the slovenly teenager moping and wallowing in his pit of mysterious smells behind closed doors.
Approach at your peril!
....They will never find your body......

 

     Gizmo's continuing impatience at food time and his almost constant cravings have driven him to take up the questionable hobby of wizardry. Taking a somewhat classic approach - somewhere between Paul Daniels and Tommy Cooper - he works earnestly towards his ultimate goal - turning shrews into sausages...

 

    That's all for now from the crazy cats - more will be here as soon as Husband has more lunch hours! Thanks for stopping by - don't forget to leave a comment and say 'hello!' See you soon xxxx

 

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Harvey Balboa - A Happy Revelation

 

One of the most common questions I reckon we all face is, "why do you journal?"

 

The answers are wide and varied - and often intensely personal - but here are a couple of my reasons which struck me like a ton of bricks this week....

 

In my process of scanning bits and bobs for blog posts and to send to a friend and to show the wondrous folks on Facebook, I found this page from 2017. It's before my strokes, when I lived alone with my kitty, Harvey. Harvey passed away late last year and the hole in my heart has yet to heal, so finding pages like this - seeing my drawing of him, happy and strong - makes me smile, and just for a while he's with me again.

 

In reading the words I noticed that this entry actually records the very first day that my second fur baby, Leonard, visited the garden as a stray! Leonard's first day! Now he's my big daft lad, Harvey's brother, now the younger sibling to Gizmo, Missy and Sapphira. His first day...

 

Then I look at the date. September 23rd. When Leonard finally met his daddy last year, he bounded into his arms and hasn't left his side since. He follows him, comes when he calls, rolls over for tummy rubs and wags his tail, and I have said all along that I reckon Leonard is my husband's old springer spaniel, Sprocket, reincarnated and that he found me because he was MEANT to be reunited with his dad, who loves him more than life. September 23rd....is my husband's birthday. 

 

I have no words, just a bundle of happy feelings and a warm glow which fills that hole in my heart, at least for now.

 

Why do I journal? Well, this would be a good start.

 

 

Lord Of The Shrews

The early days of this new year bring chills, frosts, windy gusts and now and then, a perfect still and pristine night. Stars glitter in diamond scatters on a velvet sky, the sound of nocturnal wildlife carries for miles echoing eerily in the night. 

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     Husband has decided to have the first bonfire of the year. The incinerator is expertly stacked with combustibles in well organised layers, the ground cleared and finally the fire is ignited....a flash - a spark - then the first crackle of tinder accompanies the flickering firelight, illuminating the blackness with a primordial glow.

     Husband watches, assessing the furnace with a professional eye. At the perfect moment, he steps back and nods just once, satisfied that all is well, then turns and trudges across freezing earth towards the light from the kitchen door, clapping gloved hands together to recover some warmth until a mug of hot coffee can restore life back to his fingers. The door closes, and Husband and Wife retire together to relax watching tv in the living room.

     All is perfect. All is quiet. All is still. All is......

     .....the sound of drums......ancient sounds of primeval tradition. The sound of paws beating a rhythm on frost-hardened ground brings a wild magic to the night and shadows begin to dance across the lawn, the fences, the hen house, the cracked and painted panels of the old work shed. Some magic is afoot...some enchantment born of ancient rites.... It is the time honoured Roasting Of The Shrews! Spoken of in unlit places.....whispered only by those who know.....

     The cats have joined forces. Their warders are fooled, not noticing the strange draft emanating from behind the the enormous Raquel Welsh poster on the wall, knowing nothing of the tunnel leading to freedom and the dance of destiny which now whirls and spirals around the living flame. Outside, for miles around, shrews cling together, quaking at the sounds that herald inevitable doom. Their days are numbered, for Leonidas of Wickham has been summoned, his power undeniable, his presence overpowering, as he steps forward into the light and utters the awesome words of prophecy:

     "Hellooooo! Are there any sausages?"
 
     Wise old Gizmo sits upon his makeshift throne and watches the Champion with a drifting gaze. Now all he can think about is.... sausages. In the bordering fields, the shrews feel a flicker of hope - a glimmer of opportunity.....escape!  With Missy distracted by the robust rum and catnip punch, only the miniature Sapphira follows the path, the spare chicken coop already lined with plastic sheeting and the tools sharpened and laid out in grim and deadly glinting lines. A feline mincing machine, ecstatic in her enclosed psychosis, nothing can stand in her way! Shrew sausages..... she smiles as the marketing opportunities for organic local produce open up a world of possibilities! An island....a lair.....a shark tank and a laser to write her name on the moon! ALL THE CATNIP IN THE WORLD!!! Now a new sound, high pitched and piercing overrides the ominous drums, making dogs howl and bats drop their moths:

     "Mooowahahahahaaaaa.....MOOOwwaaHHaaaaaahaaaHHAAHAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

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Welcoming 2020 with the first kitty pic of the decade. For those who would like to note supplies, I used Winsor and Newton watercolours, Derwent Inktense bars, black Indian ink, pearlescent Cosmic Shimmer watercolour paints, white gel pen and gold Winsor and Newton metalic ink. And yes, I had to include my other old man, Harvey, watching over all us and telepathically ordering his brothers and sisters to gather ALL the blankies  and ALL the cushions and, darlings, order the pate de foie gras and the Chablis with your own fair paws...otherwise it's the prescription nippity bikkies AGAIN!

Christmas Wishes!

Wishing everyone a very merry Christmas and all good things for the coming year! xxxx

Harvey's Farewell

      It's in my nature to record life events....usually art is my expressive medium of choice.

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     I worked on this piece on Harvey's last day, while Daddy had to go to his outside job and my little fluffball lay beside me, snuggled in a warm blanket, in between worlds.

     He sits perched on a velvet stool, surrounded by cushions while his brothers and sisters shower him with love. Martini in paw and taffeta bow tie catching the twilight rays of sun, he is a dapper old chap, sounding a little bit Noel Coward, dear boy as he bids farewell to his earthly domain to travel through rainbow clouds where those that went before await his magnificence with open arms. That big sparkly sequin-scattered heart represents my theatrical mother who I know will be his eternal slave, feeding him turkish delight and fine truffles until Pimm's o'clock, when the party always begins.

     This process is cathartic and soothes my spirit. It's a way to move on, not leaving things behind, just finding storage for memories in a safe place accessible any time as I continue on my journey.

     I don't know why, but even the hardest things and the most raw and painful shards of broken emotion draw bright colours from me and I am compelled to reach for sparkles, mica glitter shades of wonder and glistening golds. This illustration was laid down in black Indian ink, Winsor and Newton watercolours, enhanced with Derwent Inktense pencil, cosmic shimmer water soluble mica paints, Golden acrylics, Winsor and Newton gold ink and white gel pen. I'm VERY happy with it. Husband has decreed that it will be framed and go up on our wall of pet tributes and every time I pass I will see all my babies, past and present surrounded by bright happy rainbow light. And it will make me smile.

Harvey

Harvey - a cat of many identities, but all of them with a strangely similar theme: The Velvet One. El Jefe. His Reverence. The Colonel.

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     A small black velvet cat whose delight for the finer things in life added a certain gravitas...a particular weight to his presence. A climber, an adventurer, a tyrant and a hero - a demanding boy whose will must ever be obeyed by his minions...his humans...

     His apparent arrogance always belied a gentler nature. Face rubs and cuddles always the order of the day from kittenhood, he liked nothing more that snuggling in a heap of wubby blankies on the best chair in the house. He learned at a very young age that car travel was nothing but an adventure and, uncomplaining, he would accompany me to the vet without a carrier and sit patiently waiting for his appointment, confident that his handsome looks and "come hither" gaze would garner nought but the most devoted attention from all present. It never failed.

     He climbed the highest trees, a true daredevil in his younger years, regularly seen at full gallop hurtling along the topmost branches, leaping from oak to pine to ash like the most skilled 'Cirque Du Soleil' acrobat.

     His temperamental sister, Sabrina (the teenage witch and named character counterpart) and his adopted brother, Victor Scorpius Galactus Von Doom, off to Aslan's Country, Harvey became an only child, never leaving my side...eternally there, calm, kind, patient, soft and loving. He stayed faithful through every life event, wriggling from tickles as I laughed with him, purring softly when I buried my face in his gossamer fur and cried. He stood guardian and confidant to my mum during her cancer treatment and shone his light to guide me through the darkness that followed.

     He didn't once complain when he lost his huge garden....his trees....his peace, to move to a small space far from the countryside he loved. His eye for decor was perfection so he brought his sunshine with him. He was calm when I had chaos in my soul. He was gentle when I had a storm in my heart. He was constant when my mind was all at sea. He was my beacon, my anchor and my joy.

     His adventurous heart led him to his new baby brother, Leonard, hidden in the bramble bushes and his courage taught the timid boy to trust and be brave.

     He faced illnesses and hardship with stoicism and fortitude. He had nine glorious lives and he made the most of all of them.

     Harvey walked into the light across the rainbow bridge and on to Aslan's Country last night. Leonard had held him close and touched nose to his nose before we took him on his final journey, He took his last kiss of air with a sigh that tore my soul. His grace and loyalty stole me back from the precipice so many times, and kept me sure footed on a path that led us all to our new home, to his Daddy, who he loved with every fibre of his honest being. He had a garden again...trees... brothers and sisters....a real home. Here he will forever live in our hearts and memories. I am sure that we will hear the demand for a fine, robust cognac and delicate cream fancies whispered on the wind and an urge to rub fluffy ears will lead us to pass on his love to all the fur babies who remain. He will be immortal, eternal, and the forever embodiment of my hope and happiness.

     Goodbye my little Love xxx