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.