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.

In Remembrance

 We will never forget those who have bravely fought and fallen, that we may thrive and grow. 

We will remember them.

 

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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A Little Trip Along Nostalgia's Path

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 Recently, I had a bit of a rummage through some older journals and found these pages which I wanted to share. I drew these doodly illustrations a lot to record memories that I was afraid I'd lose and I'm so grateful for them. 

    They're even more important to me now that these places are half a country away and all of the people and pets are lost to me in this world. Looking at them, I feel an odd mix of sadness, nostalgia, fondness and thankfulness.

    I have a new life to illustrate now - a new adventure filled with love and happiness and cats (many cats!), but these memories are so much a part of me and I never ever want to lose them. I can keep them safe in my journals and my heart and move forward knowing they're always where I can find them.

 

Welcoming Autumn With Cats

 It's Autumn. My favourite time of year. The colours of the leaves are yet to fully turn, but the light is different, and the air has bite.

    As is now tradition, I have been marking the passage of time and the changing of the seasons with the cat cartoons that sneak their way daily into my Husband's lunch tin before he sets off for work. I thought this would be as good a time as any to share some of the latest little offerings with you. Here we go:

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    It seems that no matter where we hide the treats, the fur bandits manage to ferret them out, commiting nefarious acts of daring do that would put Cirque Du Soleil to shame. We're not sure who the ring leader is, but Missy is noticeable by her absence in spite of being seen carrying purloined evidence....Hmmmmm.....

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    Late summer brought the annual moth invasion, drawn to the electric lights like...well.....moths. Err. Yes -their crazy, flapping air raves gave rise to the suspicion that Missy has been selling tickets for access to the light show and we can only imagine what the party girl and her clientele get up to when the night draws in, the bulbs flicker on and the sound of Ibiza-style nightclub vibes spread over the surrounding fields...

 

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    We're early risers, up at 4:30 am. The cats are fed before anything else - even coffee - and they're fed well! Not that you'd think so, given that by 9:30 Gizmo and Sapphira are to be found like waifs on the garden doortep releasing their inner hobbits to demand second breakfast. Then it's a practise of the pathetic faces in the hopes of a winning elevenses performance, brunch and then on to a midday banquet. Shameful...

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    September brought Husband's birthday which THIS year was a joint celebration with Leonard, as we've recently discovered that his first visit to me at my old home as a 'gentleman of the road' was on Husband's birthday date! He's such a daddy's boy now that we figure that his arrival was meant to be. WHICH is EXACTLY how Leonard feels about birthday cake. 

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    Yes. I forgot to put a spoon in Husband's lunch box, so pudding was woefully uneaten. For shame..... Gizmo helped me to apologise appropriately. 

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    ...Leonard is disgusting. 

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    As colder, wetter, more Autumnal weather made an appearance, Husband and I decided to embark on a refurbishment programme which would ensure that they would all be comfortable and warm throughout the winter months ahead. Missy - party girl and dweller of the outside shed - was a ball of furry disgruntled wriggles and claws when I dared to pick the Gorgeous One up and carry her to the new cat zone.... Growls, claws, hissy fits UNTIL her paws touched the soft plush of the new beds... Oh. Well. Yes. The ensuing display of hedonistic delight was nothing short of disgraceful. Needless to say she spends at least some time - when the bars are closed - in the lap of luxury. Tart.

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    Leonard loves his Dad so much. Like.....SOOOO much! He likes to celebrate every time Daddy returns from work with a little Leonard dance and a gift of the mutilated corpse of some erstwhile rodent garden inhabitant.

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    The recent power cut was a bad one. The electric cable outside the house had melted through a gas main and ALL the juice to the neighbourhood was well and truly switched off for hours and hours until the magic pixies fixed it. A lot of food had to be disposed of or quickly cooked when the kitchen was up and running again, including a veritable ton of mini sausage rolls. NEVER LEAVE MINI SAUSAGE ROLLS TO COOL ON A KITCHEN COUNTER WHEN YOU HAVE CATS AND THE DOOR IS OPEN!!!!! Leonard got there first. Gizmo is still recovering from the loss.....

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     Hope you liked these little doodles that mark our days with the kitty overlords. If you like what you see here, maybe you'd like to subscribe to my blog - there's no spam, just occasional helpful notifications of new arty projects for you to enjoy. Tell a chum - invite them to the arty party!

Stay well, stay safe, be loved.  

   

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.

 

 

A Meander Through Memory Doodle Pages

 Hello again, lovely reader!

 

      Thank you so much for joining me again - your visit makes the day shine!  I have so much that I would like to share with you and so much to talk about, but today I thought you might like to share a little peep into my life - the me of the past that created the me that is now.

 

   
These are my 'life doodles' - a way to record a whole host of memories on one little page. Each part represents a place, person or event from my childhood, helping my mind recall the precious moments that can often prove elusive to my post-stroke brain (with all its weirdnesses!) They are tiny, I know, but when I look at them I can walk a path through the journey that is my life and each step is a spark - a firework burst - which helps me relive the smiles that have signposted the way for me.

       The page above represents my days out on the Wirral Peninsula, in Leasowe and New Brighton, on the banks of the River Mersey. There's my mum dancing on the stage at the Floral Pavilion.... There are my grandparents taking in the sea air. There's Leasowe 'Castle' and the lighthouses that mark the distance along the coast - and the circuses that visited and brought the smell of sawdust, the flash of colour and the tastes of rare delights like candy floss and toffee apples. Swimming in the freezing shallows of the open air baths, and riding fat donkeys along the sands as the famous ferries carried their human cargo across the waters to the bustling metropolis of Liverpool....

  
     Traveling around the peninsula to Bidston, with its famous "Hill", housing the old observatory and a disused windmill surrounded by woodland, ancient stones and mystical fairy rings of bright red toadstools. There's the little Tam O'Shanter farm, now an animal rescue centre with a petting zoo, teaching new generations to care for the wondrous world around them There are my grandparents again, walking the dog along the newly born pathways of a nature reserve that is now, years later, abundant with protected wildlife and lush growth atop reclaimed landfill. The ancient Hill and the new reserve, together a legacy for the future.

      There's the village cross in Moreton, the church and my old primary school just past the mushroom fairy house that represents my Grandparents' home, a place of sanctuary, the oak that my uncle planted there as a child and me, a very little girl, lifted almost to the moon by the enormous balloon which found its way into that very tree, grown tall and strong with time... And there's that circus, moving memories from one page to the next, like the waters that flow around the peninsula, shaping the land.

    
      The last of today's little offering....Continuing that walk around the coast, there's the promenade along the River Dee on the other side of the peninsula, separating that enclosed little world from the ancient grandness and beauty of Wales, with Hilbre Island standing remote and resolute between, grey seals basking on the rocks. On the way there, we'd stop and collect blackberries along the then quiet roads of Saughall Massie, collected to become jar upon jar of my Grandmother's bramble preserve. West Kirby Hill - ancient viking land now gorse covered with surrounding heaths of purple heather crowned with a column - a monument looking down to the river. Ice creams from Tottey's (the best in the known universe) then off to Raby Mere and a rowing boat ride of peril from my Grandfather (far too large for such a tiny vessel), damson scrumping in Willaston (more jam) and a trip to Thornton Hough to see how 'the other half lived'. Sunshine, sea air and green fields - happiness and the simplicity of childhood.

      I make art for many reasons. I journal for even more. When I combine the joys of both life hobbies I create something which becomes a gift from me to myself, a way to relive happy days and remember loved ones who have long since moved on to rainbow meadows beyond my reach. I would encourage you, dearest reader to try something similar - something that will work for you.... a journal, a doodle, a poem, a scrapbook, anything that will capture an elusive part of you that is precious and fragile so that you might enjoy it every day and maybe share stories with those you hold dear, allowing them to join you along those well-trodden footpaths in time.

      I hope you've enjoyed my rambling journey and even more rambling words! I enjoyed every minute and look forward to seeing you again. May your sun shine for you and warmth surround you, and may you now enjoy a really good cup of tea or coffee and the perfect moment that is now. - Shroo xxx