Sunday, February 3, 2013

Photo February - Day Three

 
Guardian
 
I've had one of my cat minding gigs this weekend. Twice a day I pop around to my friend Bambo to feed and medicate him. The cat's name isn't really Bambo - his name is Sam.
 
You see, I rename all of my wards, other than Maow Maow (who tends to get called "Sweetheart" when  he stays over at mine). It's just the way it is. Mrs Squeaky Puss is known as Kusha to her mother. Stinkybreath is called Tia to her family. Cupboard Cat and Couch Cat are Goblin and Whiskers at home. It just seems to make the settling process easier for the beasties and for me.
 
And Bambo, who I've known for nearly ten years, is normally called Sam. Thing is, Sam is a 9 kg, 17-year-old, crotchetty,spayed Ginger Tom. He looks like a walking basketball. I call him Sambo Rambo Mambo Bambo - or Bambo for short. A cat that large really needs four names - one wont do the job at all.
 
This dragon minds the entrance to Bambo's place.
 
To be honest, a sign reading "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate", (Abandon all hope ye who enter here) or "Arbeit Macht Frei" (Work will make you free") would not go astray here, such is the terror that one Bambo can instill. To those who don't know Bambo,  a few years ago you could be excused for thinking that you'd met the fourth head of Cerberus, of the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse.
 
The grumpiness of this old moggy used to be pretty legendary. He settled down once my friend started giving him a daily dose of cat Prozac a few years ago.
 
Actually, get to know him and he is a lovely beast - you just have to get past the gruff exterior. He seems to like people who feed him and have a kind word and a pat - after a few years (I've been been feeding him periodically for as long as I've known him)
 
Now, at 17 years of age, Bambo has mellowed somewhat - even more since his friend and housemate went to Cat Heaven early last year.
 
Turning up to feed him, I found him on the landing. He snugged up to my back as I sat next to him and started to purr. His eyes rolled back into his head when I rubbed him under his chin. And he barely flinched as I tipped his pill down this throat.
 
Like the dragon that guards his home, there is some softness behind his gruff exterior.
 
____________________________________________________
 
And now to do some real writing:
FeNoWriMo total:  5000 (still)

1 comment:

Kath Lockett said...

Awwww. I'd love to see a photo of him.

Laughed out loud at 'walking basketball'