From January 2012
I am probably quite fortunate to be called, however unimaginatively, Tigger. Given my strong affinity for rhubarb the humans apparently considered calling me Custard!
Protect me from human imagination and cheap wit. Rhubarb is fabulous stuff, custard is yellow and limp. Rhubarb grows out of a great bed of deep comfortable straw and produces vast green sun umbrellas on long sturdy stems. Rhubarb patch is the perfect place for a cat in summer; comfortable, shaded, hidden. Custard tastes strange and glues up your fur.
It was Autumn when they first discovered I was visiting their garden. The rhubarb was still lush and the new straw only slightly prickly. F tells me now that it’s remarkable for rhubarb to keep its leaves through the winter, but it did that year. I slept there all winter. Sun umbrellas kept off the rain, were a roof against frost and got loaded with snow. It was Spring before they realized that’s where I went at night.
(The adoption process took a while to complete. My humans were convinced I had another home. “He’s in such good condition,” they said, “he must belong to someone.” Belong to someone! What do they think I am? So I take a pride in my appearance, and if I had previously associated with some other humans, I certainly wasn’t telling them about it. F even carried me about the neighbourhood to see if anyone recognized me – or I recognized another home. Well I wasn’t giving that away. By then I knew I was onto a pretty good thing even if it needed some refinement – regular food, TV, computers, a refuge from that vicious Siamese cat from down the road, and a rhubarb patch.)
Hari Om
ReplyDeleteAngel Tigger, you were a true squatter! You understood the right to permanent residence if you stayed long enough. There's more than F and Mr B who are glad of that now. Hugs and whiskeries YAM-aunty xxx
Ooh, I shall have to check if there is anyone hiding beneath our rhubarb.
ReplyDeleteI like your garden umbrella Tigger. Rhubarb originates in Russia like Beetroot.
ReplyDeletethis post makes me happy and sad at the same time. you look so precious in your greens. have not heard of custard, except the pudding kind. I did not realize you were brought in from the cold and lived your life of luxury and traveling .
ReplyDeleteTigger, you were a cat in a million.
ReplyDeleteAngel Tigger I love strawberry rhubarb pie. My sister in law first introduced me to it.
ReplyDeleteI can identify with with thankful for one's name. I was born in January. My mom once told me she thought about naming me Garnet (birthstone of January). I cannot imagine going thru life explaining my name.
Thankful to be Cecilia
Aww. Our Humphrey turned up in a garden too. Despite their best efforts his original owners couldn't be traced so we took him when he ended up at a local rescue. Arilx
ReplyDeleteSounds like Humphrey fell on his feet too.
DeleteYou definitely chose the right family for you.
ReplyDeleteI think it was a match made in heaven
So smart to pretend you were born in a rhubarb patch!
ReplyDeleteI might have been born in a rhubarb patch - no one knows.
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