Showing posts with label cute. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cute. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Day 76: A new addition to the family


My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 76: A new addition to the family

Everyone, meet Halley. Halley was adopted from the Toronto Cat Rescue last Friday.

Originally, her name was Ella and while it’s a fine name, I didn’t really take a fancy to it. In my native language (Flemish) Ella is too close to ‘ela’ a term of caution. When a cat, or dog or a child is about to do something naughty, it is warned with ‘Ela’, meaning … don’t do that, I saw that or something to that effect. So, we started thinking of a different name.

I posted Ella’s picture on Facebook and asked members of two cat groups what they would call this kitten. There were a number of suggestions, but none of them were suitable. Some proposed male names, which were not acceptable as Ella is a girl, others came up with nicknames, which I didn’t consider because I prefer a proper name. My other cats are called Charlotte, Gabriel, and Holly, so Ella’s deserved a proper name too.

Someone suggested watching Ella for a few days and the perfect name would become obvious. As it turned out, it did. The perfect name for our little rascal is Halley, named after Halley’s Comet. Just like the famous comet she’s predominantly white, she has a long tail, and she races around the place.

I’m sure that in the weeks and months to come, there will be plenty of updates on Halley, so watch this space and see our little kitten grow up. For now, enjoy these few pictures and video. 

















Friday, September 8, 2017

Day 11: Beasts - Lunch for 7 ostriches


Day 11: Beasts. Lunch for 7 ostriches

Living in Belgium, my mom and dad had never seen an ostrich. They had seen such a bird on television, of course, but they had never seen a real live one. 

So, when they came to visit me in South Africa, I suggested a visit to a game park. The game park was some distance away, so we decided to make it a little camping trip. “Can I come too?” my then 6-year-old son asked.  Of course, he could.

They were so excited and were so looking forward to their night out in the wild and seeing an ostrich up close and personal. 

“Have you been there before?” my mom asked.

“Yes, I was there last year,” I said.

“Are the ostriches scared of people?” she wanted to know.  “Or do they come real close?”

“When I was there they didn’t exactly come to us,” I said, “but they came nosing in the rubbish bins near the lunch tables.”

“Oh good,” my mom clasped her hands together, “so when we stop for lunch we might get to meet them.”

“If they come close enough,” I said.  “You never know with these birds.”

You never know indeed.

The night before our trip to the game park, while my dad packed the car, my mom and I prepared a cold lunch for the four of us. Everything went into pots and early in the morning, we set off for our trip.

We were hardly in the game park when my mom spotted an ostrich.

“Oh look,” she said, “there’s one.  I wonder if I can go take a look at him.”

“You stay right here,” I told her.  “Look, you do not have to go to him, he is coming to you.”


Nothing could have pleased her more.

Lazily the ostrich walked up to the car, daintily placing one long leg in front of the other, moving his head up and down and side to side. Having arrived at the car he gave three short pecks at the side window where my mom was sitting.

“Can I roll the window down?” she asked.  Sure, why not.

The window was hardly lowered when the ostrich’s head appeared in the car, along with about 15 inches of his neck.  He looked at each of us individually and we looked at him.
Oh, he was a magnificent animal! Big and tall, with lots of black, gray and white fluffy feathers, and with long lashes over warm, dark eyes.

At the allocated spot, we set up the tent, made it comfortable, and by the time it was finished, it was time for lunch. We could have eaten at the tent, but mom was anxious to meet more ostriches, and so she suggested that we go and eat at the open-air lunch patio.  Her wish was my command.

At the lunch patio, numerous families had already gathered around the tables and under the umbrellas. All of them were barbecuing. When we started unpacking our cooler and placing the food on the table, we were looked at and whispered about. As we placed the potato salad, lettuce and tomato mixture and chicken pieces on the table people were shaking their heads and barely managed to hide their laughter.  How rude I thought.  If they want to barbecue that is their good right, just as it is my right to eat something cold.

We had no idea what the whispering and sniggering was all about, but we were about to find out. Six ostriches approached the patio.

“Do you think they’ll come as close as the rubbish bins?” my mom asked expectantly.
Before I could answer the ostriches marched past the rubbish bins and headed towards our table. 

Before we knew what was happening, much less could do anything, the six surrounded our table and started pecking at our food. In a matter of seconds, they had picked the pots and plates clean. It was literally a case of peck, peck, peck, peck, peck, and everything but everything was gone!  Whether it was potatoes in mayonnaise, lettuce in olive oil dressing, or fried chicken, the ostriches devoured it ALL!   

One even stole a rather large tomato out of the cooler and swallowed it whole. For a moment, I thought he might choke on it, but we could see the tomato glide down his long throat.

My dad had been very brave and had grabbed a basket of bread off the table, holding it high over his head away from the six hungry beasts.  Little did he know that a seventh ostrich had joined the party and was standing right behind him. Peck, peck, peck and the bread was gone too.

When all the food was gone, the ostriches walked away. Dazed we looked at each other and the empty table. All around us people were holding their breath, waiting for our reaction.  Would we get angry?  Or, would we see the humor of it?

The couple at the nearest table told us that barbequing was the only way to eat in the park. The fire was the only thing that kept the ostriches at bay.  We, with our cold food, had just about sent them an engraved invitation.

We nodded, wordlessly. There we were, robbed and hungry, and the next moment … howling with laughter.





Sunday, June 5, 2016

Can cats tell time

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If you’ve ever wondered if cats can tell time, I can tell you with absolute certainty that they can.

Some cat owners will agree, knowing that their cat greets them by the front door as they come home from work. But it goes further than that.

Take Mickey for instance. Mickey can be in a deep sleep, but come 6:15 p.m., he wakes up and moves to the kitchen. He knows that around that time I start dinner, and he gets his food. He doesn’t say anything, he merely sits there, looking at me. If he were able to talk, no doubt he would say “Hu hm, can you feed me?”
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But speaking of talking talking ... Mickey never learned how to meow as such, but he’s a great singer.

For instance, last week my son Dieter went to Home Depot after work. Usually Dieter comes home around 4:45 p.m., but on that particular day 4:45 p.m. came and went, there was no sign of Dieter and Mickey got agitated.
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He started pacing through the whole condo. First he walked up and down the living room a few times, next he went to check the bedrooms, he even took a look in the bathroom, and when he couldn’t find Dieter he started “singing”.

Yes I call it singing, because what Mickey does you can’t call meowing. He hits a note and holds it. He will hit another note for a few seconds, then go higher or lower for a few second more. All the while walking to and fro.

Each time Dieter announces that he will be late because of a meeting, shopping or a date, I dread it because Mick turns from a regular cat into an opera singer.

Gabriel can also tell time and is an equally great singer. Perhaps even better than Mickey because depending on the sound he sound he produces I know exactly what he wants.
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Gabriel knows that, during the week, Dieter wakes up at 6:00 a.m. During the weekend he doesn’t set his alarm because he wants to sleep in, but Gabriel doesn’t know that. So, when Saturday and Sunday morning comes around, and Dieter doesn’t get out of bed around 6:00 a.m., Gabriel reminds him that it’s time to get up. And believe me, he doesn’t meow softly, he has quite a voice on him. A voice that says ... come on, get up, you’re late!

Another reason why he meows (if you can call it that) is when he wants a drink from the sink. He has a full water bowl in the kitchen (I make sure that the bowl is full when I got to bed), but every now and then Gabe wants to drink from the bathroom tab. He meows, or shall he sings, so loud and so persistent until I get out of bed and comply with his request. When I get to the bathroom, I find him sitting on the toilet and then he looks at me and sings in a tone that says ... what took you so long?
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Another reason why Gabriel flexes his vocal cord is when he wants to be on top of the cabinet. He has a fondness for high places, but getting there presents a bit of a problem ... he can’t jump. He rather, he sometimes lacks the confidence to jump. 
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To get onto the wall unit, he has to jump on the cat tree, and for some reason Gabriel doesn’t trust that thing. He will manage it ones, twice or even three times just fine, and then the fourth time he will doubt himself and doesn’t dare the jump. So I have to lift him up, or at least steady the cat tree for him to get from a to b. To get my attention he produces a sound that almost says ... Help me! Please!!!
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Ah cats ... you gotta love 'em