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The collected opinions of an august and aristocratic personage who, despite her body having succumbed to the ravages of time, yet retains the keen intellect, mordant wit and utter want of tact for which she was so universally lauded in her younger days. Being of a generation unequal to the mysterious demands of the computing device, Lady Bracknell relies on the good offices of her Editor for assistance with the technological aspects of her journal.

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Location: Bracknell Towers

Thursday, October 05, 2006

She's the cat's mother

Lady Bracknell generally considers herself to be a fairly indomitable old bat, but the loss of her feline companion last week has affected her more badly than she had expected.

Having known for some months that the loss was imminent, Lady Bracknell assured herself that she would want to have a decent period of mourning for the dear departed and that, whilst she would very definitely be welcoming a new cat into Bracknell Towers before too long, she would refrain from doing so until such time as the palaver over the editor's trip to the Palace was safely out of the way.

But it is twenty years since Lady Bracknell last came home to a house without a resident feline, and she very quickly discovered that she simply could not tolerate the emptiness. Indeed, she could not even sleep.

So, on Sunday last, Lady Bracknell and the intrepid Becca ventured out in the rain to the Freshfields Animal Rescue Centre, with Lady Bracknell insisting to the last that she was "just looking".

Having explained her circumstances to Caroline, the very charming lady in charge of the cattery, Lady Bracknell was ushered into one of the less public areas of the building, wherein is housed the orthopaedic ward. Caroline suggested that Lady Bracknell might find herself particularly drawn to Casper, who had sustained a broken pelvis in a road traffic accident, and whose original owners had refused to pay the consequent veterinary bills.

Caroline - who, Lady Bracknell suspects, is rarely wrong about such things - was entirely correct in her assumption. Lady Bracknell's heart was lost in an instant, and her details were taken so that the ominous home visit could be arranged.

Despite having chosen Bracknell Towers as her current residence precisely because of those of its features which render it particularly safe and welcoming for cats of a nervous disposition, Lady Bracknell was nevertheless concerned that, following the home visit, it would be declared to be a species of cat death trap, and that Casper and she would be forever parted.

Of course, Lady Bracknell's fears were groundless, and Casper arrived yesterday evening. She spent the first few hours sniffing and scent-marking everything in her new home, before retiring to the interior of the wardrobe for a well-earned rest.

By lunch-time today, she had taken up residence on Lady Bracknell's bed, from which she can watch the birds in the back garden and plan their demise. (Although, as she will not be permitted to venture into the back garden for some weeks yet - by which time she may well find, to her disgust, that she is wearing a collar with a bell on it - the local wildife is in no immediate danger.) She is already convinced, however, that she could beat the resident magpies in a fair fight.

History does not relate the reason why the fair Casper was gifted with a boy's name. Not wishing to confuse her further with drastic change in nomenclature, Lady Bracknell will restrain her creative impulses to merely altering the spelling to Caspar. So that, instead of being a friendly ghost, she may be wise*. All Lady Bracknell needs now is a Melchior and a Balthazar and she will be much in demand for Christmas parties.

The editor informs Lady Bracknell that the blogger software is currently stubbornly refusing to upload photographs. This is a shame, because Caspar is very beautiful. Readers may rest assured that photographs will be interpolated into this post as soon as can be arranged.

*It is not, perhaps, widely appreciated that the gospels make no mention of there having been a specific quantity of wise men from the East at the nativity. The gifts which they bore were of three different substances, but nowhere is it stated that the wise men themselves were three in number.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lady Bracknell is a Star to have guided Caspar to such a loving and, I suspect, indulgent home. Caspar will soon, however, learn the same lesson Father Dougal had from Father Ted, which tells of the difference between a very small magpie, and a magpie which is merely far away. Happy bonding!

11:04 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Great news! I am so glad that you have got yourself a new flatmate.

If you send some photo's in this direction I will 'artify' one up for your blog;-)

Pete(I have forgotten my Blogger password, so am signing in as a nonny mouse)

sphinxqueen, loved your Father Ted recollection!;-)

8:45 am  
Blogger BloggingMone said...

I am sure Caspar will have a wonderful time at Bracknell Towers.

9:11 am  
Blogger Charlesdawson said...

I knew it! May you and Caspar have many happy years together.

I would suggest two reasons for the original name: 1. the previous owners (besides being callous irresponsible skinflints who should be beaten with mallets and banned from any contact with any animal for life) could not spell; 2. the previous owners did not know how to sex a kitten and being callous irresponsible skinflints as hinted above, could not be freaked to change her name when the mistake became apparent.

9:41 am  
Blogger Buttongrrrl said...

Glad that you have been able to make friends with another Furry Friend. Coming home to a shouty cat is always very welcoming Hope you have many purrrfect years together : )

11:11 pm  
Blogger Wrinkled Weasel said...

Cats are wicked. I mean that in the old fashioned sense and not the snotty youf one.

You celebrate the departure of the neighbour from hell, and then take custody of one of the most tyrannical creatures on Earth.

As Uncle Monty puts it;

"Yet again, that oaf has destroyed my day"

You have been warned


12:15 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Congratulations! Looking forward to seeing pictures of Ma'm'selle Caspar (Casparina? Casparilla?) :-)

Mary in LA

1:17 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Having read your pages with great interest, and shed not a few tears at the passing of Fishbone, I felt compelled (no, I'm not a witch!) to congratulate you on the rehabilitation of Caspar. How about shortening her name to Caz? I know it really means Caroline, but I'm sure she'd have no objection.
May you have many happy years together!
Keep blogging won't you? Your pages are the first, sometimes the only, ones I turn to in times of stress. I have progressive MS, so those times will no doubt increase!
Best wishes to you both! Angie xx

1:30 pm  
Blogger marmiteboy said...

I can assure readers that Caspar is indeed a beautiful pussy cat, The Editor having texted me several photos.

I would like to point out the magnificence of her tail at this point which is rather splendid.

1:54 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That's wonderful news! Every house should have a cat, and Bracknell Towers is no exception. I look forward to seing pictures of the new Lady of the House.

3:07 pm  
Blogger Wilf said...

This is brilliant, Lady Bracknell. And I also know how Caspar feels - I am very fond of the inside of the wardrobe but I like to store sweets and comics there. Sleeping in a wardrobe sounds like fun though.

5:40 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Buster sends his felicitations to Caspar upon successfully finding a new factotum. Well-trained humans are important to a cat's comfort.

7:49 pm  
Blogger melbamae said...

Hearty congratulations on the adoption of your gorgeous Caspar! May you both spend many years basking in the quiet joy and satisfaction of one anothers company.


11:18 am  

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