Thoughts From A Devonshire Farmhouse

THOUGHTS FROM A DEVONSHIRE FARMHOUSE

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This month: PUSSY CAT, PUSSYCAT... WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

I was thinking the other day (I know, a shocking revelation!) about why we have pets - or why some of us don't.

I don't find it surprising that Donald J.Trump doesn't have a dog - and apparently no pets at all. I had a quick Google search (note: where information is not verified) and I couldn't find anything that stated he'd had pets as a child. Which, if this is factually correct, might explain a lot. I did discover that most narcissists don't have pets because they upstage their owners' self-importance - think cuddly puppy upstaging syndrome.

Not having a pet doesn't make you a narcissist, or selfish - or weird - of course! I know several people who don't have pets because they are allergic to fur, live in flats, don't have time because of work or illness etc. What I have experienced, though, people who don't like pets or animals are usually not nice people.

Just for the record, most of our UK Prime Ministers have had a dog or at least one cat living in Downing Street.

Larry. Chief Mouser. Official Civil Servant

I digress.

This thought of mine came to the fore after one of my cats had managed to spray me with drinking water.

Let me explain:

I have two cats, Mab and Sybil, and they hate each other. As far as I'm aware, they got on fine together when we all lived back in Walthamstow, London, but I suppose they had no choice there as the downstairs flat was not all that big and we only had a small garden.

Mab as a kitten - December 2010

They spent two weeks closeted together in a cattery while we moved here to Devon in January 2013. It was supposed to be only one week while the removal people packed up our home, then unpacked us again (the idea being, to keep the cats safe and out of the way). Daughter Kathy was to bring them down with her and the horses. Except it snowed so she was stuck in London for an extra week - hence the two weeks.

From what I remember, the cattery was luxury. Cat beds, cat sofas heated throughout, best food, scratching posts, toys blah, bllah,blah. Both of them hated it.

Sybilis the white & black cat

Once here in Devon we shut them in upstairs for a while. This would have been a novelty - neither cat had known stairs as our previous home had been a downstairs flat. Gradually they started creeping about, discovered the cat flap and the great outdoors. Two happy cats. Except Sybil preferred to stay upstairs (sleeping in the warm airing cupboard) and Mab preferred downstairs.

This changed when a few years ago Sybil went missing. She was getting elderly, so we half expected her to disappear. We searched, of course, in cupboards and sheds, under hedges - but our own thirteen acres of land, plus our neighbours' fields and woods and outbuildings were not easy to patrol, so after several weeks we had to accept what we considered to be the inevitable.

Then, after about six weeks she appeared in the orchard. Wouldn't come near, wanted nothing to do with us. She looked healthy, so was obviously finding food somewhere - we suspected she'd moved in to a neighbour 'up the hill'. Which was partly confirmed when they moved and Sybil returned home.

Except, by then, the role had reversed: Mab had decided that she liked the airing cupboard or lazing on a sunny windowsill UPstairs, and there were fisticuffs (fistipaws?) when Sybil tried going up there.

All well and good but by now they hated each other, so Mab refused to come downstairs to use the catflap to go outside. My fault. It was summer, the bathroom window was open.Mab used that route instead: through the window, onto the porch roof, jump down into garden. (see above the pic of Sybil - that's the porch rook bottom right)

Come the winter I had to put plastic sheeting over the window with a cat-flap sized hole so that Mab could still come and go but the bathroom didn't turn into the Arctic. Sybil, meanwhile happily lived outdoors or in my office.

Mab in the front garden 2014
Mab is the black & white cat

Then, in 2020 Mab started getting old, and found she could no longer jump back up onto the porch and in through the window, so she dicided that she was perfectlycapable of using the catflap downstairs after all.

Except there's always 'words' in the form of spitting and yowling if they both decide to use the flap at the same time.

Sybil has her food available in the scullery (the 'white goods' room next to the kitchen) while Mab has hers in the upstairs bathroom... except... she insists on having a huge teacup for her water - located on the cabinet next to my bed. Nothing else will do. (I have tried!)

But now she's getting old (16) she often decides to dip her paw in and suck the water from her fur rather than lap. (Her teeth have been checked, no problem. )

So inevitable when I'm asleep in bed I get splashed. Which might be why she does it! *LOL*

To be honest? I don't know why I indulge her quirks. I suspect you can guess why, though.

Pussycat

The term “pussy” can, nowadays, have an offensive meaning, but “puss” was commonly used from the 1500s derived from a term likely rooted in Germanic or Low German languages (e.g., Dutch poes or Low German pūse). By 1773, "pussycat" was established to denote a friendly or small cat, as opposed to a wild or feral one. It can also mean someone you are affectionate of - especially young girls, a girlfriend, or someone who is mild or gentle - or an easy pushover. ('He's a bit of a pussycat'.)

(Anyone remember Mat Crawford calling Lilian 'Pusscat' in th BBC radio drama The Archers?)

And pussy willow is called that because the 'catkins' are soft and fluffy.

In both English and German, 'pussy' was a word that also referred to rabbits or hares. A baby rabbit is a kit, or a kitten ..., while the collective name for kittens (as in cats) is a 'Kindle'.

Rabbits, can make good housepets for anyone allergic to fur - you need to ensure all wires are covered, though, or they'll get chewed. (And yes, rabbits can be housetrained to use a litter tray.)

Nursery Rhymes

There are several Pussycat nursery rhymes: The Owl and The Pussycat, Ding Dong Bell, Hey Diddle Diddle, the Cat and the Fiddle, Three little Kittens...

My favourite is: "Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, Where Have You Been?" which gained popularity in the 19th century, with its melody first noted by James William Elliott in 1870. It was first published in 1805 in the collection book “Songs for the Nurseries”, London.

It is unsure who the lyrics of this rhyme refer to, but most probably the queen mentioned is Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603). Some other sources believe the queen mentioned in the rhyme is Caroline of Brunswick (1768-1821), wife of King George IV, but I prefer Elizabeth I.

I wonder, did it perhaps come from one of her dalliances with one of her favourite earls? Or refer to Drake and the Armada? (THink about it... :-)

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?

I’ve been down to London to visit the Queen.

Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?

I frightened a little mouse, under her chair.

(interesting that I've always known it as 'been UP' to London...)

Goodbye until next month

lege feliciter (read happily)