Here’s an old style diary-blog and it’s all dedicated to a cat. This blog had kicked off at a time when another cat was around. J’accuse can proudly announce the arrival of a new feline in the household. The wife needed someone to depend on when facing the myriad dangers of living in a castle surrounded by a forest. The early appearance of curious rodents peering from holes in the fireplace structure meant that we had to act now and act fast. I decided to surprise the better half with an early Christmas present (that way there will be no need to carry the stuff on our honeymoon). I searched far and wide in every refuge for animals (or “asile” as they are called here) for an appropriate cuddly companion that would instil fear in the hearts of intrepid rongeurs.
Originally I had my heart set on a kitten that could be brought up and formed in the hybrid Montessori/J’accuse method that results in a feline that acts canine in all but appearance. I was then told that a newborn cat was likely to (a) render null all our efforts hitherto to decorate the home with lovely furniture and (b) take a long time to get used to its secondary objective of mouse-hunter. Pied pipers being short on the market now I had to switch to looking through the youth of the refuge and my eyes were directed onto a tiger-looking three-year old who had already suffered two false starts in other households. All she needed to do was reach out a paw and the cold-hearted J’accuse melted in an instant.
There you have it. The cat was taken home and the wife, still in the throes of post-nuptial ecstasy and post-nepotic enthusiasm had to suddenly deal with new rushes of enthusiasm thanks to the furball presently installed in our house. Our wallets and plastic cards have a new enemy to add to the list after the various Desiguals, ASOS, Amazon, Play, and iStores. It is now officially “pamper-the-animal” season and we have already had a preliminary sortie to buy the “basics”. Baptism-wise the cat supposedly came with a name – “Kettchen” to be exact. However cats are really voice-activated, and like an eskimo with custard in his ears they don’t really care what you call them (so long as there is food and drink available). That explains our decision to rebaptise the cat. The wife opted for something phonetically similar but deeply imbued with meaning.
Hence Thatcher. The Iron Puss with feelings.
Post Scratchum: Before I forget. If you do live in the Duchy and are thinking of adopting an animal for life this Christmas do pop over to the people at www.asile.lu in Dudelange. There’s loads of lovely dogs and cats waiting for you to take them home and make them feel loved….And have you spend loadsamoney on the net for humanised treats for four-legged creatures.
