It’s a cat’s life

Sometimes, I wish I were a cat. Well, I wish I were my cat, Lucy Locket. She has a charmed life, though in her typical cat’s way, she would probably dispute that, saying she has only what she deserves, as princess cat of the world.

Anyway, this is what I mean. While I was making a start yesterday afternoon on marking 92 exams of 1800 words each, this is what she did. I will let Lucy Locket tell the story herself:

“Started the afternoon with a nice nap in my upstairs bed, but was woken by Mama phaffing around with some papers.”

Lu 1

“Since I had been rudely awakened, it was time for a stretch.”

Lu2

“And a wash. My owners have been putting some vile stuff on one of my claws lately, on orders of my doctor. Really! Hmmm, did I hear a bird out that window?””

Lu3

 

 

“No, no, it was thataway. Better investigate.”

Lu 4

*Makes a flying leap on to desk and sidles behind computer to look out the second-storey window*

Lu15

“All quiet on the western front.”

Lu5

“Hmmm, think I’ll just sit here for a bit. Nice change of scene.”

Lu6

“Well, that was a hard day’s work. Think I’ll go back to bed, and the afternoon is…”

 

Lu9

 

 

“…just about…

Lu10

“Done.”

Lu12

 

 

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The cat’s verdict: unimpressed

Little Girl Lost: Lucy Locket in her new house. Has decided she doesn't like it. Picture ©Caron Eastgate Dann 2014

Little Girl Lost: Lucy Locket in her new house. Has decided she doesn’t like it. Picture ©Caron Eastgate Dann 2014

While we humans are loving our new two-storey townhouse in the country, there is one member of the household who is not. Lucy Locket, our tortoiseshell cat, is not impressed one bit.

In the old house, she and I used to play a game I called “The Lost Girl”. She would go into a mini-courtyard at the side of the house between my office and bedroom. Then she would howl at the bedroom window, as if unable to find her way back to the door at the other end. I would take that as a cue to come and stand at the door and call her, and she would then make her way back through fully two metres of ‘jungle’ to find her way back to me.

Dopey, yes. Her, not me. Well, she’s an indoor cat—she’s amused by small things.

Anyway, from playing ‘The Lost Girl’, she has become the Little Girl Lost. The best she can do at the moment is sit on the middle of the bed, looking plaintively out, as if to say, “This is all I have left of my life, a shadow of its former self”.

Spooky little Monday morning

All year, I’ve been promising myself that one Monday, I would lie in bed until lunchtime, reading a book and thumbing my nose at the workaday world that normally rules my life.

Today, I did just that.

In an instant, my cat Lucy Locket—a main-chancer as all her species are—was up on the bed and ready for a daytime nap. Even the flash of the camera didn’t dissuade her. She was staying put for the morning too! I laughed when I saw this picture with the ghostly eyes—my spooky little cat was born on Halloween, so it’s her seventh birthday on Thursday.

Halloween birthday girl-to-be Lucy Locket gets spooky on Monday morning.  Picture by Caron Eastgate Dann

Halloween birthday girl-to-be Lucy Locket gets spooky on Monday morning.
Picture by Caron Eastgate Dann

And I did read away the rest of the morning. I’ve always loved lying on my bed and reading, since I was a small child. There’s something enormously decadent about it—yet you feel smug that you’re not wasting time, because you’re engaged with literature, after all.

What I’m reading though—oh my! It’s the wonderful novel The Luminaries, which has just won the Man Booker Prize for its 28-year-old writer, my compatriot Eleanor Catton. (I will write more on The Luminaries in a separate post when I’ve finished it).

For now, I am lost in this story set in and around the goldfields of New Zealand’s South Island in the 1860s.

While I’m reading, and the rain is falling gently outside, and the cat snuggles closer, the rest of the world has slipped away.