SImon's Cat - Hidden Treasure

Delightful :)

Something to smile about....

SImon's Cat - Hidden Treasure

Delightful :)

Something to smile about....

R I P Bailey Buttons

Sad day.
After much thought, delaying and procrastinating, we had Bailey put to sleep today.  Her desperately erratic and unsociable toilet behaviour and her food allergies were making it impossible to keep her going, despite her affectionate and loving nature.

I once wrote about her here;
http://fourpawsandwhiskers.blogspot.com/2008/09/bailey-buttons.html

She is buried by our front door, under the cat statue... so we will think of her often.

I mentioned to someone recently who had lost their own cat "they leave footprints on your heart".

I will miss her little cuddles and head butts, and her chats.

R I P Bailey Buttons

Sad day.
After much thought, delaying and procrastinating, we had Bailey put to sleep today.  Her desperately erratic and unsociable toilet behaviour and her food allergies were making it impossible to keep her going, despite her affectionate and loving nature.

I once wrote about her here;
http://fourpawsandwhiskers.blogspot.com/2008/09/bailey-buttons.html

She is buried by our front door, under the cat statue... so we will think of her often.

I mentioned to someone recently who had lost their own cat "they leave footprints on your heart".

I will miss her little cuddles and head butts, and her chats.

Look what you've done to me .....

Thanks to the awesome team for a job well done :)
After a quiet night she is just fine.

Posted via email from Four Paws and Whiskers

Look what you've done to me .....

Thanks to the awesome team for a job well done :)
After a quiet night she is just fine.

Posted via email from Four Paws and Whiskers

I do too fit this basket !! Better than she does ....

Sent from my iPhone

Posted via email from Four Paws and Whiskers

I do too fit this basket !! Better than she does ....

Sent from my iPhone

Posted via email from Four Paws and Whiskers

Smokey the Cat

via youtube.com

http://www.stuff.co.nz/life-style/cutestuff/4831143/Smokey-the-worlds-loudest...

Officially the world's loudest cat.
Find her at
http://www.smokeythepurringcat.com/about_smokey.html

Posted via email from Four Paws and Whiskers

Smokey the Cat

via youtube.com

http://www.stuff.co.nz/life-style/cutestuff/4831143/Smokey-the-worlds-loudest...

Officially the world's loudest cat.
Find her at
http://www.smokeythepurringcat.com/about_smokey.html

Posted via email from Four Paws and Whiskers

A taste of summer in Christchurch

Hagley Park - Band Together from press.co.nz

Sun and music and a public holiday - bliss.

Started with a huge free concert in Hagley Park on Saturday..  all day, hot sun, alcohol free, great music, enjoyed by over 100,000 people there and many more watching on tv at home.
See more pix at http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/canterbury-earthquake/4266161/100-000-of-us-banded-together

Heat control!

The aftershocks held off during the concert, but yesterday we got a good one - interesting because it was a strong 4.7 shake, centred just offshore to the East not far from our home - completely the opposite direction to the usual ones. Hmmmm!
http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/4269091/Big-offshore-aftershock-rocks-eastern-residents

You can see more info on this, and all the quakes at Christchurch Quake Live.

Today we decided to celebrate a day off and take Jessie to the Waimakariri  River for a walk... and landed up following it east into Brooklands that you can see at the top part of the map above. We have been avoiding the area because of the damage and to avoid being rubberneckers but just landed up there - eventually we found somewhere to stop and explore the river.. but less of the water and more of the cracks and liquefaction!

Not sure if this was new from yesterdays shock nearby, but there was plenty of damage and damp mud around.

We made our way back to the boat ramp - lots of activity and fast flowing water.  There are still notices everywhere to remind us of possible post-quake sewage contamination, but it looked nice and the guy on his jet ski was having fun :)

Great weekend - and lots of time with family and friends as well.
Contentment.
Hope you all had a great weekend :)

A taste of summer in Christchurch

Hagley Park - Band Together from press.co.nz

Sun and music and a public holiday - bliss.

Started with a huge free concert in Hagley Park on Saturday..  all day, hot sun, alcohol free, great music, enjoyed by over 100,000 people there and many more watching on tv at home.
See more pix at http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/canterbury-earthquake/4266161/100-000-of-us-banded-together

Heat control!

The aftershocks held off during the concert, but yesterday we got a good one - interesting because it was a strong 4.7 shake, centred just offshore to the East not far from our home - completely the opposite direction to the usual ones. Hmmmm!
http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/4269091/Big-offshore-aftershock-rocks-eastern-residents

You can see more info on this, and all the quakes at Christchurch Quake Live.

Today we decided to celebrate a day off and take Jessie to the Waimakariri  River for a walk... and landed up following it east into Brooklands that you can see at the top part of the map above. We have been avoiding the area because of the damage and to avoid being rubberneckers but just landed up there - eventually we found somewhere to stop and explore the river.. but less of the water and more of the cracks and liquefaction!

Not sure if this was new from yesterdays shock nearby, but there was plenty of damage and damp mud around.

We made our way back to the boat ramp - lots of activity and fast flowing water.  There are still notices everywhere to remind us of possible post-quake sewage contamination, but it looked nice and the guy on his jet ski was having fun :)

Great weekend - and lots of time with family and friends as well.
Contentment.
Hope you all had a great weekend :)

Saffy's Memorial Rose

Golden Celebration - a scented English Rose.

My friend has brought a rose in to work for me to remember Saffy. 

When it flowers shortly, and there are buds on it now, this is what it will look like.
Thank you so much xxxxxxxxxxxx

Saffy's Memorial Rose

Golden Celebration - a scented English Rose.

My friend has brought a rose in to work for me to remember Saffy. 

When it flowers shortly, and there are buds on it now, this is what it will look like.
Thank you so much xxxxxxxxxxxx

Saffy 2000-2010

Sorry, but blogging has not been a high priority recently... I guess 2010 will be remembered for the many occasions when we got hit with events that made it feel like the world had stopped for a while. The dawn arrival in June of the police at the door announcing Arch's sudden and tragic death and more recently, a morning phone call to share the scary news that Phoebe's mum had been diagnosed with a possible brain tumour. ( you can read some more follow up on that here).

As we coped with all of this we had another rude dawn awakening to a 7.1 earthquake and since then 1500 aftershocks which still rumble away regularly, even another 5.0 last week, .... and finally, last Saturday, the sudden death of our beautiful Saffy. She is back home now; ashes in a tasteful wooden box... on the windowsill of our bedroom, near her bed. We have shed many tears. The house seems so empty without the blonde bombshell and we particularly miss her wrinkly smile as she greeted us when we came home. It took me many mornings to realise I didn't need to straighten her bed in the morning or my partner to realise he didn't have to walk round her in the dark... . Jessie is quiet, but is finally eating again, tempted by meaty foods and cat biscuits.

My friend is going to buy me a rose in a pot ( yellow of course) so I can put her ashes in it and remember her each year when it blooms....

Meanwhile, I have been finally been able to look through all the photos and remember her in pictures. A very small consolation.... these things take time; lots of time.
Miss you Saff xxxx

Saffy 2000-2010

Sorry, but blogging has not been a high priority recently... I guess 2010 will be remembered for the many occasions when we got hit with events that made it feel like the world had stopped for a while. The dawn arrival in June of the police at the door announcing Arch's sudden and tragic death and more recently, a morning phone call to share the scary news that Phoebe's mum had been diagnosed with a possible brain tumour. ( you can read some more follow up on that here).

As we coped with all of this we had another rude dawn awakening to a 7.1 earthquake and since then 1500 aftershocks which still rumble away regularly, even another 5.0 last week, .... and finally, last Saturday, the sudden death of our beautiful Saffy. She is back home now; ashes in a tasteful wooden box... on the windowsill of our bedroom, near her bed. We have shed many tears. The house seems so empty without the blonde bombshell and we particularly miss her wrinkly smile as she greeted us when we came home. It took me many mornings to realise I didn't need to straighten her bed in the morning or my partner to realise he didn't have to walk round her in the dark... . Jessie is quiet, but is finally eating again, tempted by meaty foods and cat biscuits.

My friend is going to buy me a rose in a pot ( yellow of course) so I can put her ashes in it and remember her each year when it blooms....

Meanwhile, I have been finally been able to look through all the photos and remember her in pictures. A very small consolation.... these things take time; lots of time.
Miss you Saff xxxx

Note from a Dog

I didn;t write this... but thought it should be shared...

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh.

You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask, "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.

Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her.

It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

Note from a Dog

I didn;t write this... but thought it should be shared...

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh.

You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask, "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.

Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her.

It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

Jess.... the tagger

I have left my mark...
Wet paint means nothing to me....

Your barriers ... I spit on them... they are as nothing in my way...

You think I did it?

No..... not me.... I could never do that!!

You don't believe me???????

I have an idea .....

It was her!!!!

Jess.... the tagger

I have left my mark...
Wet paint means nothing to me....

Your barriers ... I spit on them... they are as nothing in my way...

You think I did it?

No..... not me.... I could never do that!!

You don't believe me???????

I have an idea .....

It was her!!!!