Comma’s Funniest Home Videos, Pt. 2

One day I was reviewing some footage I'd shot of Comma climbing over the fence in our backyard. Comma came into the lounge room to help, and jumped up next to the TV to watch. Just one of those freak moments when a camera was on-hand and everything just fell bang into place.




I’m guessing that Comma wasn't recognising himself, but I think he knows that’s a cat he’s looking at. He’d been next to the TV lots of times and I’d never seen him reach out to touch something like this, so I’m pretty sure he wasn't just responding to movement. I thought that cats worked by scent though, which is why they don’t react to their reflection in a mirror? Talk about a confused cat. No need to upgrade to High-Def Digital TV yet apparently. Just can’t decide if it means he was the sharpest cat on the block or clever as 'a stick in a bucket of pig swill'!

Click here for 'Comma’s Funniest Home Videos, Part 1'.

Comma. October 10, 2004 - December 24, 2005.

In memory of a cat who was small but important, and who reminded us to pause and to breathe.


Dear friends,

I’m writing to let you know that our little cat, Comma, was struck and killed by a speeding car on Christmas Eve. We don’t know the details; we found him in the gutter opposite our house as we were returning from some last minute Christmas shopping. We are certain, however, that his death was instant.
       We don’t seem to be having a very good run with our cats. Tanis (the Great) suffered a similar fate 17 months ago, and Comma’s first, non-fatal, altercation with a car was only six months ago. After being hit that first time Comma disappeared. We looked high and low and then high again, but he was nowhere to be found. After two days and nights we began to think he must surely be gone.
       But then one night we heard a frail miaow from the front door, and there he was on the porch. He’d hobbled home from wherever he’d been hiding and returned to us with three fractures in his right rear hip, a few cuts and scrapes, and a very bruised sense of pride. He bravely endured six weeks of cage-rest to make a full recovery.
       Three weeks ago we moved from Richmond to Reservoir. We weren’t sure how Comma would adapt to the ‘burbs, but he was right at home in an instant. Experts talk of having a ‘safe room’ for your cat when you move into a new house, a room kept secure for the cat so it isn’t overwhelmed by all the changes going on. Comma had no interest in a safe room. There was no hiding under a bed for him, and he was keen to get out and investigate about half an hour after he’d arrived.
       Despite an initial misadventure on his first trip outside, (exploring too far and getting cornered on a fence top with two slobbering, flea-bitten, dish-mop, yappers hurling themselves at him from either side), Comma was quickly at his ease. He loved the greater room to move, he loved the feeling of grass on his paws, and he loved the many windows with their pools of sunlight that he'd almost never had in his dingy Richmond home.

Comma was buried next to Tanis (the Great) in Templestowe on Christmas Eve.


Comma will be remembered first and foremost as our tough, little miracle-cat, who once fought a car and gave as good as he got. (The driver told us the impact had cracked her bumper bar).
       He will be remembered as possibly the most successful Feline Ambassador of all time. The number of non-cat people that he won over was incredible. From rabid, foaming, dog-lovers to people with hypersensitive cat allergies, he’d line them up and knock ‘em down.
       He will be remembered as the friendliest and most affectionate cat you’d be likely to meet. When we’d come home from work, Comma would get himself underfoot, and let out a steady stream of miaows. With Tanis this meant “Food!”, but with Comma it meant “Affection!” He wouldn’t shut up until you’d given him five minutes of lap time with rubs and pats all over. He even had this way of hugging you, where he’d be on a bed, or couch, or whatever, and he’d stand on his back legs and rest his front legs on your chest.
       He will be remembered as a cat more interested in comfort than dignity. If Comma was a piece of clothing, he’d be a pair of tracksuit pants. He’d sprawl himself out wherever he could, tummy to the sky and legs spread wide. Unlike Tanis, who’d sleep at the foot of our bed, Comma would sleep as close to our heads as we’d allow, and even at times rest his head on the pillow. Seeing a cat sleeping with its head on a pillow is freaky.
       He will be remembered as The West Wing’s First Cat. Who knows how these things start, but at some point Kate and I started taking it in turns to improvise lyrics for a song about Comma to the opening theme of The West Wing. Comma seemed to enjoy them. Well, he never said he didn’t.
       He will be remembered as the cat who would never drink water from his bowl, only from the bath. He then moved on to glasses. Often glasses that unsuspecting visitors would have sitting on the floor. Eventually we gave in, stopped trying to deter him, and replaced his water bowl with a glass. We’ve never seen him drink so much water.
       He will be remembered as the cat that we got a second chance with. After that first time when we really thought we’d lost him for good, any extra time was a bonus. I’ve taken so many photos of him in the last six months, it’s ridiculous. None of them compare a whiskers-worth to the real thing, but they help the memories to stay fresh and vivid.

He will be remembered fondly in too many ways to record here.

Comma, Full stop.

"Wrong glass, sir."

Sure, we all know the ancient art of Kitten Bonsai is repugnant, cruel and inhumane, but what about when it’s voluntary? Does a cat have a right to body modification? Do we have to respect a cat’s choices? We tried to make Comma see reason, but he just wouldn’t listen. Imagine our horror, coming home and bursting in on our little cat trying to squeeze himself into the required glass vessel! Where did we go wrong?


But fear not. It’s not Kitten Bonsai. Not even voluntary Kitten Bonsai. It’s just Comma and his wacky ways of wetting his tongue. When it comes to drinking, Comma’s always been loco. No matter how fresh the water in his bowl is, he’ll never touch it. You could pour Evian Tap Spring Water in there, and he’d still walk right on by. For a while he’d only drink the water that pooled in the bath after a shower. I had this theory that he must not like the bowl because the sides could touch his sensitive whiskers. He then, however, discovered glasses and plunged in head first, whiskers be damned. So that was that theory down the plug hole. Look at him! It’d be hard to get his whiskers pushed back any flatter to his face! He does usually only go for glasses that are full, or close to full, so he really must have had a lion-sized thirst that day.

We still have no idea what his problem with his bowl is. Maybe it’s the colour? It is a pretty lurid shade of yellow. Oh well, as long as he stays hydrated. Order of the day: keep your glass where you can see it!

(Oh, and just in case you’re unsure and worried, the Kitten Bonsai site is a hoax.)

They'll always have Richmond.

Well, the big move from Richmond was on Saturday and, as expected, Comma didn't take too well to big people stomping around in their size 12s and moving everything out the door. So he went next door to spend the day hanging out with Drake, Adam and Mel.

Judging by this photo that Adam took with his phone, it was a day spent well, a day greatly enjoyed, which only made us feel all the worse for splitting the two friends up.


This is such a good image with which to capture their last time together. Both cats have this wonderful quirk of liking to stretch out one paw further than the other, and it often seems like a comforting hand. Many's the time that Kate or I have collapsed on the couch after a hard day, and Comma will come over, sit down, and gently stretch out one paw to rest it on a leg, or arm, or whatever. It's like he's saying, "Hey, it's ok. I understand. Tell me about it. I've been there. Tomorrow's another day. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Etc, etc." All in one outstretched paw!

So nice to see it happening again at such an appropriate time. They were there for each other to the very last.

I think they're going to be ok. :-)

Comma's Funniest Home Videos.

Here's an image that'll make you wince.


If I'd got it on video instead of a still, I might even have sent it in to Australia's Funniest Home Videos. Seems like it'd be right up their alley. I can just imagine the cheesy voiceover...

"So, cats don't always land on their feet!" BOIOINGGGG!

[And cue studio audience hilarity.]

Ouch.

Tanis. October 20th, 1991 - July 29th, 2004.

In memory of a cat who occupied a large space in our hearts and, indeed, a large space wherever he happened to be.


Dear friends,

It is with great sadness that we are writing to tell you that Tanis was hit by a car yesterday and killed instantly. It was a freak and, obviously, tragic accident in what is our relatively traffic-free street. Tanis was scared by many things - vacuum cleaners, tradesmen, the thought of spending more than 5 consecutive hours awake - and he was especially scared of cars. A more “car-savvy” cat you’d be unlikely to meet.
      After making a successful transition from Templestowe to Richmond, Tanis was King of the Hill with nothing to prove. However, over the past few months a number of the local cats had been invading Tanis’ block of land, wandering around as though THEY owned it, and consequently Tanis was involved, no doubt reluctantly, in numerous scuffles to reassert his control over his territory. Something no dignified 13 year old should be made to do. Certainly not a 13 year old who’d always choose sleeping over fighting.
      We believe that he would have been involved in such an altercation on the other side of our street when Kate came home from work yesterday. He would have heard Kate and, keen to call it a day and flee to safety, he bolted across the street toward her and his intersection with fate. The female driver was very upset at what happened, and we feel most grateful that several of our neighbours were on-hand to help out and take care of what needed to be taken care of.

Tanis will be laid to rest tomorrow at Templestowe in the stamping ground of his youth.


Tanis will be remembered as a cat who (in the recent words of our vet) was “somewhat on the tubby side” and yet who was “remarkably healthy for a 13 year old”. She also observed, (no surprise to us), that he had one of the softest and shiniest coats around.
      He will be remembered as a cranky, old whinger who’d never take no for an answer. Despite our insistence that 5am was NOT breakfast time, he never ceased trying to persuade us otherwise. Tanis loved his food.
      He will be remembered for his remarkable “stomach-shimmy”, the undercarriage wobble-wobble that happened when he ran.
      He will be remembered as wise yet remarkably stupid. When waiting for the door to be opened he would always wait with his nose pressed into the right side of the door, even though it always opened on the left!
      He will be remembered as a cat who overcame considerable obstacles to (somewhat awkwardly) walk along the top of our fence, just like those other younger cats. We’ve rarely been so proud.
      He will be remembered as a most affectionate cat who, if you were at the right height, would barrel in and bash heads with you; on occasion causing some degree of pain, such was the momentum he managed to build up.
      He will be remembered as the cat that no-one upon first meeting him EVER felt too uncomfortable to exclaim about his previously mentioned “tubbiness”.
      He will be remembered as the cat who brought love and warmth (and the occasional clawed swipe) to many, and whose companionship made the first year of our marriage far richer than it would have been without him.

He will be remembered fondly in too many ways to record here.

Comma's collars.

Comma managed to lose another collar last week. No great loss. Collars are easy to replace… or so I thought! The real loss was his grandfather’s name tag that he’s been wearing in memory of the departed Tanis (the Great). Comma was like a young kiddie on Anzac Day wearing the medals of an old timer long gone. So now Tanis really has slipped beyond the pale, or under the house, or whatever. Comma seems fine with the situation, and happier without the collar. Honestly, you’d think he prefers to not have a close-fitting band of stiff material around his neck with a bell, name tag, and council registration tag all hanging off it. I’m just glad I scanned Tanis' old tag before it went missing in action.

So when Kate was doing some shopping at Coles the other day, she went to the pet aisle to pick up a new collar. Plenty of dog collars, but surprisingly few cat collars, and the few they did have were all awful. The next night we were both at a different Coles, but it was the same situation. The only one that even came close was, at first glance, a nice looking red one, but which happened to be made of faux velvet and studded with diamantes! Not sure if something so regal is in keeping with Comma’s character, but it was the best of a bad bunch, and we couldn’t be bothered going elsewhere, so we bought it. I’m sure pet shops have a wider range, but they’re never open at convenient hours.


Anyway, on closer inspection I discovered the diamantes could be easily removed, but we thought we’d give ‘em a go first. Maybe Comma’d love them? Maybe it’s the change he’s been looking for? He didn’t fight like he usually does when I put it on, so I took that as a good sign, and he seems quite comfortable with it on. Just have to see how he goes in the school yard…

Comma’s Paternal Question Mark.

The other day as I was hurrying to work, I came across the grey and black cat that we’ve always suspected is Comma’s father. Suspected mostly because Comma has these wispy grey parts to his coat that he didn’t get from his Mum, and this is really the only grey cat we see around. I’ve often seen him from a distance, but this time he was right up close. I stopped to say hi, crouched down, and put my hand out, hoping he’d come over; which he promptly did. Now I’m no expert on cat biology and what traits and characteristics they pass onto their offspring, but I noted four things with interest:

1. He was remarkably friendly, just like Comma;
2. His markings were very similar to Comma’s;
3. His tail was unusually long, just like Comma’s; and
4. That when he miaowed, he sounded just like Comma (who has this distinctive miaow that’s a bit high-pitched and… well, wussy).


Unfortunately I couldn’t get a clear shot of his face as he was moving a lot and it was an overcast morning, so the automatic settings on my camera kept using too long an exposure. I was running late for work, so I didn’t bother fiddling with manual settings, and just contented myself with a few quick snaps. He’d stop now and then, but always with his back to me. I’d get my camera ready, but as soon as he’d turn to face me, he’d barrel over and rub against me and I’d get a blurry shot during his approach. Oh well, I’m sure there’ll be other times.

So is he Comma’s father? Who can say? I’ve got no idea if this cat has been de-sexed, or if it’s even a male, come to think of it, but the signs are there! Further investigation (and possible collection of DNA samples) required…

Galadriel: an introduction.

Galadriel arrived next door with her owner, Adam, in early 2004, in the days when Tanis still walked the Earth. She was a very sociable and confident cat, who liked to wander wherever she liked to wander. This led her inevitably into Tanis’ territory, and sparks were set to fly. But not really. Tanis, you see, was always more interested in finding a nice patch of sun to sit in than enforcing the borders of his territory, so he played it cool, as though she was only there because he allowed her to be there. He had his neighbourhood reputation to think of.


As time passed they eventually became good porch buddies. We’d often come out to find the two of them sitting there together, quite contentedly watching the world go by, quite happy to be in each other’s space. Tanis would occasionally make a show of trying to get tough with this interloper, but it never escalated past playful.

Galadriel as a name was always a mouthful, so most settled on the simpler, ‘Glady’. When first encountering Galadriel, Shar, our house-mate at the time, thought her name was ‘Gradual’, which seemed a nice Australian-style pronunciation, so that got a bit of use too.

After Tanis’ death and the birth of her three boys, Galadriel’s temperament changed. As is, I believe, the way with cats, the mother rejects her offspring once they reach a certain age, so as to avoid any unpleasant familial mating unpleasantness. She didn’t become hostile towards just her offspring though; the humans she’d previously had contact with were also hissed at and mostly avoided. It even got to the point where she practically packed up and moved across the street! She’d laze in the neighbours’ gardens and sleep on their porches, and only rarely come ‘home’.

On one day, Kate and I happened to go over to one of the houses, for an unrelated reason, and got into conversation with the residents. As we chatted at their door, the topic of Galadriel actually came up and, as if on queue, she suddenly appeared in their hallway from out of a side room. She looked quite at home, and even had this, “That’s enough talking about me,” look to her. The owners seemed a little embarrassed, but said she just wouldn’t leave! I guess at least she was happy.

Mandrake: an introduction.

Mandrake pretty quickly developed a reputation as a bit of a thicko. Like his two brothers, Comma and Prince, he was very friendly and playful, but certainly wasn’t the sharpest claw on the paw. With his long and thick fur coat he seemed much larger than his brothers, and like a bit of a gentle giant. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if he’d asked you to tell him about the rabbits.


But we don’t see him as dopey anymore. More just carefree. Carefree in the extreme. I guess that like most cats as long as he’s got a full bowl of food, friends to play with and a comfy place to sleep, he’ll be happy. Mandrake though just seems to take an extra degree of pleasure in it. It’s like he’s always got his head in the honey pot; like he’s just got an extra zest for life.


Far from being a thicko, Mandrake seems to have developed a degree of street-smarts that we wish Comma had a tenth of. He spends a lot of time outside and, like a lion, really is king of his domain. He exudes confidence, and a God-given right to be where he chooses to be and to go where he chooses to go. Not uncommon for a cat, of course, but Mandrake takes that natural inclination up to eleven, and even beyond.

Comma: an introduction.

After Tanis joined the choir invisible, the behaviour of his old porch friend from next door, Galadriel, changed. She became moody and aggressive. We thought she was working through the stages of grief, but it turned out she was actually with child, or rather, with kitten. Unfortunately for us, it was not the work of Tanis. Would've been nice to have some sort of living legacy, some piece of Tanis to live on. But as Tanis had never been able to act upon those special feelings shared between two cats who love each other very much, we knew that the father was another.

In no time at all Galadriel had given birth to three kittens, named Prince, Mandrake and Willow. Adam, Galadriel's owner, found homes for Prince and Willow and decided to keep Mandrake himself. One day Adam and our other neighbour, Mel, came over carrying a little cat. The person who was going to have Willow had just found out that he was not allowed to have pets where he lived, so Willow was looking for a new home. They just popped in to say hi, they said, and certainly in no way brought the kitten along to try and emotionally blackmail us in any way at all, or anything. Certainly not.


Kate was on-board as soon as they asked. I wasn't so sure, but while we were talking little Willow was just sitting in my arms looking around. He was there for about ten minutes. Totally relaxed, totally at ease. I was totally won over.

Though we both liked the name Willow, we changed his name to Comma. You don't get to name things very often, especially after forms of punctuation, and I wasn't about to let this opportunity slide by. Besides, my primary association with 'Willow' was Willow from Buffy and the whole boy with girl's name thing would just get confusing. And Willow was, in my humble opinion, more often than not annoying and I didn't want to be reminded of the Season 3 finale every time I looked at my cat. Although, thinking now, maybe we should have kept Willow and just put 'Evil' in front of it! Evil Willow was never annoying! Oh well, all in the past now.


So in December 2004 Comma left home, and moved in next door. His Mum knew exactly where he'd gone and she'd sit by the back window miaowing and pawing the glass, demanding to see her offspring. At times they'd both be there, and it was like visiting time in some prison drama. They'd actually have their paws up on the window, separated by a few millimetres of unyielding glass, while they miaowed at each other. It was heart-wrenching, and hard not to anthropomorphize the whole thing but for Comma's sake the new territorial boundaries needed to be enforced.

So Comma was in his new home and many adventures lay ahead.

Tanis: an introduction.

Tanis was born in October 1991. He was found with his family in a hessian bag by a creek. His mother was a pure-breed Chinese White who must have drawn the attention of a wandering tabby. Apparently pure-breeds are no longer pure once they've mated with a non-pure cat, and it's believed that this led to Tanis and his unwanted family being stuck in a sack and dumped.

Fortunately they were found by a lady who took them all in and tried to find them homes. The two boys were tabby with patches of white, and their four sisters were all white with light patches of grey. Tanis was the smartest and most adventurous of his siblings. He was the first to venture out of their box, and the first to use his litter tray. He was the one who came over to see me when I came around to see him.


This was me in my hip-hop dayz. I think I look pretty convincing, except for the calculator watch. I probably should have re-thought that one.

Tanis was confident, lithe and athletic in his youth, and his future was bound to be BIG.

Tigger: an introduction.

My love of cats began with the friendliest cat in world. He was patient with pawing children, and remarkably hard to strangle to death.


He was called Tigger because, like the Original Tigger (O.T.) of Pooh fame, he liked to jump. And glory, could he jump! I've never seen another cat jump as high.


He wasn't just a set of muscle-bound hind legs though. At the end of a hard day, he liked nothing more than to settle down with a good book. Children's books, sure, but children's books in Dutch, you'll note! "Kangoeroe met jong," it says. Clever.

A Positive Note.

Well let's get things started on a postive note.


That's nice. TOTALLY prohibited. Not just a little bit; totally. What a very unique sign.