postcard

Back Up? Why Yes…

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: This scrappy little feline is issuing a warning – Back up! Cigar in mouth, claw paws and fixed stare, he chomps on a cigar which casts a reddish glow on his face, spewing a plume of smoke. His scratching paws show claws on the ground. He might be old and tatty but he can still fight a good fight. Although I think the admonishment means Get Back I think it also alludes to having your back up.

There is a small squiggle in the lower left corner and while I thought it was a spider or other insect, I now think it is someone’s way of signing their images. Google Images was not able to help me, however I now know that this was actually a woman’s suffrage image which I had not guessed. (I have a few suffragette items, which are frequently about cats, and a post about one is here.) It does make some sense now that I know it. It belongs to a series of cards featuring this tatty tom. This card was never used or mailed.

Votes for Women statue. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

Cards like this referred to the changing social role of women and aligning them with cat like characteristics. I look at Cookie and Blackie this morning and I am not quite sure what characteristics they are referring to – I may be missing the point. (Cookie has been pacing the apartment and meowing at us and Blackie is napping on the couch. Neither seems politically idealistic.) I am not so thick however, that I don’t understand that this is a flinty, tough kit who is ready to engage their claws on all comers. Me-ow!

From the same series but not in Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

I think I chose today’s card because we are mid-summer here in NYC and I am at sixes and sevens. A thoughtful colleague asked what I had enjoyed most about summer so far and my first thought is how hot and wet it has been and I could hardly come up with a pleasant answer. Work has been busy (event in Sag Harbor a week ago) and other than the temperatures and the humidity it has not felt like summer at all. We are generally frayed and on edge here. My fur is standing on end!

Next week sees our month long move to the Jersey shore and some vacation. I am hoping to restore my equilibrium and my spirits with long evenings on the porch among the dahlias and the hummingbirds which come to snack in the evenings. I want to eat my homegrown Jersey tomatoes, local corn and peach ice cream, along with grilling some fish. I want to drink an iced drink and read on the deck with Kim also reading in a chair across from me. (We have a towering pile of books we are bringing!) August is designed to smooth our fur and get us ready for the coming fall ahead.

Two Is Company

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Oh the poor rejected lover kitty! His beloved caroling away with her paramour. So sad! Is she truly fickle? Did they etch their initials together previously in this tree trunk? Or are those the initials of the lovers he he walking by? Or was the affection all on his side? It was not meant to be.

Our third wheel is in a strange stance – partial fight and somewhat flight as the bottom half of him already seems to be walking away while the top half looks back. He wears a nice bow, unlike the singing lover, although Miss Kitty has a red collar on. The cat couple only have eyes for each other so they don’t even see him behind the tree – alas. I’m fairly sure that the toad stools growing at the base of the tree are symbolic. (Danger, poison and no less than Existential Dread according to the internet.)

This card has an embossed quality and was never mailed, nothing is written on the back. It was produced by Souvenir Postcards of New York and Berlin. I assume it was riding the crest of the Wain-esque cat craze of the post-Victorian era. Although anthropomorphic like his these cats are less pointedly satirical. Not sure who you’d send this card to where they wouldn’t feel like you were making some sort of point or message.

This card points to the whisp-o-will nature of cat affection and, shall we say, coupling of felines. I have limited personal experience of this beyond one cat, Winkie, that managed to evade our window of spaying post-adoption slip out and find a tabby with whom she had a brief liaison resulting in four kittens.

My sister Loren holding the mysterious Miss Winkie.

In retrospect, it is hard to associate those kittens with her as she made short shrift of her affiliation with them. We kept them, two gray, a tabby and a orange tiger. They became: Ping and Pong, Tigger, and Squash. Ping was a smart female and Pong a (very) dopey male. Tigger was a nice and very pretty tabby who sadly wandered off, was found once and did it again. (Our cats were free range in those days.)

Meanwhile Squash turned out to be a pale long drink of an orange cat – so long it was like he had an extra vertebrae or two. As a result would often sit on his haunches, like a human on the couch or in an armchair, comfortably bent completely in two. (My brother Edward once declared of Squash, Survives but never thrives, which seemed pointedly accurate. I have to admit that I have no memory of when Squash passed out of our lives as I wasn’t living home at the time but neither do I remember the report.)

Squash was in most other ways a rather undistinguished fellow living quietly in a multitude of cat personalities. (The kitten event had swelled the family total to unforeseen highs!) However, his distinguishing characteristic was his affection for one of the other cats. He was the rare cat in that house who would seek out another and sleep with his arms around him.

Peaches, one of the Jersey Five of cats, hates everyone (man and beast) it would seem, except the elderly cat Milty. She stealthily climbs up on a chair and curls up asleep with him. Milty, whose precise age is not known to me but a rough calculation has around 20, is largely the benevolent figurehead of senior male in that house. He likes to have a brief go at every dish of food as it is put down but otherwise he’s pretty chill.

Peaches, left, with the ever patient Milty.

Meanwhile, the role of senior cat largely belongs to the four year old enormous all black male, Beauregard or Beau. That said Blackie, of the visiting New York cats, believes himself to be senior cat when we are in NJ. Beau will take a certain amount of that since B doesn’t eat with them which would probably cause the imminent collapse of that small kingdom.

There are occasional blow ups and one took place last summer while I was on a call with the two Board Chairs from work. That said, if you are going to have a cat fight explosion while on an important work call its good that you work for an animal hospital. They are very forgiving about animal interruptions on zoom.

Blackie, looking entirely black since we can’t see the white star on his chest.

Going back to Winkie, who was a very smart little polydactyl calico cat. Having produced said kittens (in my parent’s closet, the carpet was never quite the same) and caring for them a scant amount of time she pretended that she had no memory of them nor where they came from and generally treated them with a superior attitude and disgust as interlopers we’d wished on her one day. Such is the attitude of cats.

Tail End

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today I have a somewhat odd Louis Wain card which I have to assume is an early one, before he found his feline métier in the more satirical and representational vision of cats. This black one is loaded up with symbols of luck – a black cat being lucky in Great Britain, if not here in the US. (Proving them to be sensible sorts in this regard – in my opinion!)

This card was never used and is attributed to the Alphalsa Publishing Company in London. This company seems to have existed, under shifting names, between 1910 and 1930, although there is an intimation that the archive from it existed into the 1960’s when it was lost in a fire. The back of the card also identifies it as The Aloha Postcard. Louis Wain and Alpha get credit on the bottom front of this card.

A somewhat peevish Blackie on my lap the other morning. He wanted my chair.

This kit is grinning from ear to ear and doesn’t seem to mind the bag of gold piled atop his head. He has symbols of luck and prosperity tied to his tail (don’t try this at home) and around his neck – those ancient symbols (still used for their original purpose in Eastern cultures) which a decade or two later became swastikas. A horseshoe is thrown in for good measure although I was always told that they should go in the other direction in order to keep the luck from pouring out.

In addition to fortune, this card is promoting Health, Wealth and Goodluck to the Very Tail End. I like the idea that this little fellow is good luck to the tip of his tail. While not being especially superstitious about luck symbols – good or bad – I can appreciate picking up a good heads up penny now and then.

Beauregard during a recent visit to NJ.

I, of course, subscribe to the black cats are good luck theory – thank you Beauregard and Blackie! Blackie cheats it with a white badge on his chest and some hidden on his tummy. You need to look really closely at Beau (one of the Jersey five) to find a few white hairs on his chest. Kim has a theory that the white star on the chest was an evolutionary move to protect all black cats from superstitious fear.

Meanwhile, I am utterly sold on the friendly good tempered nature of male black cats which I have only discovered with these two – a longstanding tuxedo fancier I love them but they tend to another personality altogether. Cookie is a girl of course which is quite different anyway, but she is comparatively shrill and less easy going than her fraternal counterpart.

Leaping?

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: It’s a cute kitten post today with this somewhat scrappy looking fellow or gal. For no particular reason I am going to say fellow – something about the build. You have to look a bit carefully to see Sautera? printed at the bottom.

This card was never mailed and there is nothing written on the back. It was produced by Reutlinger Studio, Paris. These were popular photo postcard producers at the dawn of the 20th Century. (There are a few other postcards in my collection by this Peruvian born French photographer. Those posts and more about him can be found here and here. Reutlinger evidently lost an eye to a champagne cork – how very French! A very bad for the photography business as well. And also to note, I always wrap a champagne bottle in a towel before opening.)

When I purchased this card I was thinking that this kitty was perched on a martini style glass (falling into the drink sort of thing), but instead it appears to be a glass funnel of sorts. Try as I might, I cannot figure out what is at the bottom of the funnel, pebbles perhaps? (I considered olives when I thought this was a martini glass.)

It is tucked into the glass neck of a large bottle – and in fact, even if that kit is quite small the funnel and bottle must be quite large – it would have made a truly man-sized martini in retrospect. Having said that, toward the end of his life my father became very enamored of martinis and purchased a few very large martini glasses, but perhaps not quite cat-sized.

A quick translation of Sauterna? from the French is Jumping? I guess he is planning to since curling up on or in the rim of that funnel isn’t going to do much for him. He does have a thoughtful look on his little mug though – a tiny kitten, staring into the void.

There seems to have been a series of these cards and with this very cat, which I have found online and share below. The second one seems to have been more recently appropriated.

Cats are ace jumpers. They seem to understand not only their own overall capacity for the leap, but have the ability to size up distance and other factors which you can see get calculated in their brain. Those of us who live with cats have seen them study such a situation, sometimes resulting in a preliminary butt wiggle – the tail is essential to the balancing act of the cat – especially when it is a floor up trajectory. A cat rarely misses its mark with a jump – and are very embarrassed if they do. I had a little girl tuxie, Otto Dix, who seemed to just float upward. It was as if all she needed to do was think about being somewhere and land there.

And who hasn’t stood poised in a similar, if metaphorical, position? There have been a few notable times in my life where there was a leap to be made. I always think of leaving my job at the Metropolitan Museum to go to Jazz at Lincoln Center as an enormous leap – which it was. I almost broke my neck but I found my footing eventually.

The more recent vocational leap was to the animal hospital I raise money for and that was less dramatic, but a bit of a leap nonetheless. (Posts about those professional leaps of faith can be found here, here and here, although much of my time at Jazz was shared in the annals of this blog.) I am still finding my sea legs on that one so the jury remains out.

Bonus picture of Cookie and Blackie from early this morning – rare sleeping together pose!

Atlantic Highlands

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today’s postcard, celebrating a local summer spot where I grew up in New Jersey, seems like a fitting Memorial Day holiday kick-off card. I purchased it at the postcard show bonanza of a few months ago with the intention of framing it for the house in NJ where I am gathering a few early cards of local spots I love.

This one was mailed on August 8, 1923 from Atlantic Highlands at 11 AM. It was mailed to Mr. Robert Del Paso, 44 Est 98th Street, New York. Written on the back is a brief note, Best regards to you and your sister from Dorothy and Eugene.

The view shown here is the one that you now see from the ferry when it pulls in. It looks nothing like this now, a small public beach is at the landing and some low condos not far beyond. Boats dock nearby and restaurants and small businesses dot the edge of the water along with some houses, although you don’t see those right in this spot either, as it is largely in the shadow of a much larger bridge.

The approach to Atlantic Highlands via ferry from 2021.

The first time I took the ferry into Atlantic Highlands, the sense memory of that spot was amazing. On the occasions I would go sailing with my dad or on the creaking wooden fishing boat of my grandfather, the Imp, we would head first under one bridge and then the other and to the bay or ocean. The sense of history smacked me hard being on that spot of the water again.

I have touched on this Jersey shore enclave before, not long ago in a post about Bahr’s Restaurant which can be found here. I opined on the thoughts I had about living there at one time, and the history of that restaurant where I had what turned out to be a last birthday dinner with my sister, a few decades past now.

Atlantic Highlands, and it’s kissin’ cousin Highlands, abut the area of the shore I grew up in. (Highlands is the hamlet slightly further into the river side, Atlantic Highlands faces out toward the ocean and beyond.) However, while Sea Bright, a spit of land that adjoins it, was an almost daily destination, the Highlands while hard by, somehow were the route less taken. I believe that this was probably largely due to beach traffic and while being almost within shouting distance as the crow flies it was rarely the shortest way to go anywhere from Memorial Day through Labor Day.

The parking lot for the ferry, next to the small public beach and some condos.

Once I hit high school we made it part of our route when traffic died down late in the evening. We ate lobster rolls and drank beer at shacks at the edge of the river at the junction where the bay joins the river and the ocean. Also on our route was a movie theater that showed films recently fallen out of circulation for an admission of $1.00. Beyond that, expensive restaurants that hugged the shore and gave a view as far as Manhattan on a clear day and those were beyond our means.

Atlantic Highlands, as shown in this postcard, attaches to Sandy Hook beach (and now state park) via the bay. Not only has this quaint wooden bridge been replaced, but the concrete one of my childhood (which seemed plenty big at the time, bigger than its Sea Bright counterpart which required a draw bridge function for the passing parade of boats) was replaced very recently by a true behemoth of a bridge.

Moby’s lobster shack on the water.

The one in Sea Bright is also under reconstruction and I gather will no longer be the draw bridge of my childhood – it’s opening hourly in the summer was how we timed our days in the summer in order to avoid it and the traffic back-up it would cause. I had a boyfriend in high school who had a summer job working the bridge which was a great gig and the retirement job of numerous fishermen. I don’t know how, in retrospect, Ed got that job but many envied him it. I am sorry to say I never visited the tiny shack mid-bridge that was the man cave you stayed in if you worked the bridge.

The theater is evidently still there.

I’m also sorry to have to say that one of the people I spent the most hours with in Atlantic Highlands is gone now. A long former boyfriend, I had fallen out of touch with Sam Lutz, and found out via local connections that he died a few years ago.

I suspect I will eventually return to writing about this area. For some reason it lives in my memory in a way other places do not. However, for now, this rosy sun setting over the Highlands hills is a good place to leave Pictorama for the holiday weekend as I head out there shortly.

Some Tale

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Kicking off the Memorial Day weekend with this somewhat military cat card. Given the general lack of sympathy among cats for each other (some special cases notwithstanding) this gray kit has a tough time convincing his rather intense superior officer that he is under the weather. The long paw of the law as represented by this black cat, cap forward, is very upright as he judges this underling wanting. I love our cat Blackie but boy, I wouldn’t want him judging me – he’d look just like this I think. It’s an odd card and it was the black cat in particular that sold me on it. (Of course Blackie is constantly judging us – not to mention his sister Cookie!)

The two tiny identifying markers on the front of the card are Oilette and FEM. The tracks on FEM are obscured or gone but I am told that Oilette seems to be best known as a series of postcards that were made to look like oil paintings for the famed Tuck postcard company, as opposed to this very water color like illustration. Someone drawing it really knew cats however. This is a Tuck card as well.

The postmark is obscured but it was mailed from Clapham SW and probably on November 17. It is addressed to Miss C. Steer, Lower Froyle, Nr Alton, Hants. The recipient appears to be the sister of the writer who pens, Dear Con, just a card, we received the parcel safely and very many thanks for them, Margie was going to write but she has so many home lessons (?) to do. Sorry Mothers feet are so bad hope they will be better love to D and of course Mother and yourself. Yours best from us all. xxxxx An additional note was added in pencil at the top, received mother’s letter this morning 8.11.17. Even today Lower Froyle seems to be a fairly remote part of Hampshire according to Google.

This takes me to a bit of a tangent sick leave seems to be something that is being phased out, or perhaps it just is where I work now. Instead of sick leave there are PTO days and you can use them for sick or annual leave. (Not sure how Planned Time Off is waking up with the sniffles but okay I guess.) There is additional accrued sick leave for more substantial illness, surgery and the like and you need a doc’s note to take that.

As someone who doesn’t take a lot of sick leave it doesn’t especially affect me a lot, but it seems like a bad trend and a bit unfriendly too – like this card. I do believe that if folks are sick they should stay home and get better. Covid should have taught us that if nothing else and I don’t especially want to get sick because they have come to the office rather than take the day off. Meanwhile, I have substantial oral surgery coming up and I did get a note from my doc and will take a day and a half of medical leave for it – its on the Thursday so I am going to assume with the weekend I will be back in the saddle on the Monday.

These are a bit bleak, if somewhat military associated, as thoughts go on the first (if cloudy and cold) morning of a three day holiday weekend. (Former Memorial Day posts attest to the routine cold and wetness of my childhood living near the beach. One can be found here.) Tomorrow I head to New Jersey where I will, somewhat belatedly, get my dahlias planted in pots on the porch to start the season. I believe there are some geraniums blooming in the kitchen that can go back out front in those pots where they will be cheerful and deer deterring. We’ll hope for a jollier post tomorrow!

Stand Over Tom and Let Puss Eat

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today we have more from the deep well of postcards purchased a few months ago. This is an odd card, part of a series that seemed to all be along this sort of theme of two cats snubbing one.

On my card it there is the name Hochhausler with a distinct initial E although I see them with a first initial A online. Either way Hochhausler has not left much of a trail to be picked up online and it isn’t clear to me, but I think this is the producer of cards rather than the artist, however hard to say.

Someone has written on both sides of this card, contributing a bit of drama to the overall effect. At the bottom of the front in pencil, stand over Tom and let Puss eat the bread without salt and then, under the black and white tabby holding the music, Puss and the other identified as Tommy. Seems to me that it is the other cat they should be worried about. (Incidentally, it seems that something was written and erased, now illegible, under the other cat.) And who among us with cats hasn’t had to ensure that one doesn’t eat it all – Blackie, I’m talking about you!

Meanwhile, we have two snotty cats being mean to the third. All three are striped tabby types and the one is skulking away (as cats will) tail tucked where we can’t see it. Clearly these other two are rule the roost popular types that one meets as a youngster. Poor kit! Meanwhile, Tommy has a book under his arm which has Reich Commers (?) inscribed on the front. The card predates the world wars so it can’t be a reference to Reich Commerce and so the sharpness of the commentary somewhat lost on us. This belongs to a series of cat cards with this two against one as a theme, but I was unable to share the few scant further examples from the internet.

This series would likely be in response to the popularity of Louis Wain at the time and people trying to cop his take on social intercourse via cat drawings. This would perhaps go in the, it’s harder than it looks category of cards as the acid take falls a bit flatter than the Wain equivalent which would laugh up its sleeve at the full of themselves instigators as well.

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

On the back of the card it says, I am getting along fine with the cats. They take their places fine but puss has never come back. I am going to bake bread today but am going to sell (?) it. It is addressed to Carrie Duckworth–Chariton R.R. Iowa c/o Earnest Duckworth. The cancellation is hard to read but appears to be August, 1902. We can see that this postcard series was distributed in Europe as well as in the US, my guess is that it is European in origin.

The card is unsigned – clearly the recipients were just expected to know who sent it. Oh my. Now I am worried about Puss who never came back. She sounds very blithe about the cats left in her care! And there is the remark about letting Puss eat the bread without salt. Hmmm. (I happen to like salt on my buttered bread but maybe not what she is referring to?)

I will be left hoping that Puss either came home or found better digs elsewhere as roaming cats will if their needs are not fully met – and perhaps even if they are. I read many stories online about cats who beg in neighborhoods and are fed by a number of people assuming they are strays and the only one feeding them. One day they are otherwise enlightened as someone identifies themselves as the kit’s owner – proving however in a sense that no one ever really owns a cat.

He Loves Me!

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: A few weeks ago I posted another postcard by Maurice Boulanger, a Wain wannabe. Boulanger’s cats have their very own maniacal streak although perhaps they lack the intellect of Wain’s calculating cats of the same period. (The earlier post can be found here.) I noted that this card was a bit more saccharine and I’m not sure I actually find it thus today as I look at its nuttiness.

This somewhat tatty card came from the same sale that has supplied Pictorama with numerous posts since March, a big buy that keeps on giving. This was from a set of no less than six – I saw the set in mint condition in an auction, but could only share these three below.

Daisies are clearly the theme here and the fluffy white cat blends a bit with the giant one she is holding. Interesting that there is a green leaf hanging off the daisy stem. The kitties hold paws (albeit a bit awkwardly) and somehow he stretches one long paw arm around her. She has a nice big bow on too. They look at each other with adoring googly eyes. More daisies decorate the border in a very Arts and Crafts pattern of the time and it climbs down the card behind the fellow. Next to the girl kitty it says, He loves me! He loves me not! He loves me!

I myself never actually picked daisies (or therefore did this sort of calculating if someone love me) as a child. Weirdly where I grew up did not seem to produce wild daisies. We had an abundance of dandelions but few daisies. I always think that illustrations like this are more like the giant Gerber ones, more often in bright colors, that need planting and tending but are worth the effort.

Gerber Daisies – maybe I should plant some?

It looks like this card was in an album as the four corners are nibbled away, probably held in by those black paper triangles. For all of that it is a bit bent and something white has spotted the surface if you look carefully – this makes me feel like this card was well loved however.

Written on the back is Paul Starr and Joanna Penna and a $2 notation. (I didn’t pay a lot but more than $2.) It was never mailed so it is undated.

I love the unbridled nuttiness of this card and in fact the entire series. I know little about Mr. Boulanger but clearly he had a charmingly whacky streak and his jolly kits are still hot stuff today.

I Am Enjoying Myself Very Much

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Today’s card is so painted and embellished that I almost hesitated to say it was a photo but of course it is. There was something about this card when I spotted it recently, the evocative mood of this little girl and kitty, that appealed to me. She is dressed up for her photo and posing nicely for the camera but so is puss. (While not quite enthused he is submitting his beautiful Persian self passively to the pose anyway.)

I grab up Blackie like this not infrequently. Cats don’t especially like to be hugged and held this way, especially while you are not seated and if it isn’t their idea, but he will permit me that. Once in a rare while Cookie is hounding me for attention and I will even pick her up and carry her around for a few minutes. Oddly it quiets her down but to do it of my own accord would be inviting wounds.

A somewhat peevish and demanding Blackie on my lap in front of the tangle of junk on my desk.

Little almost glowing dots of paint have been applied to the trim on the little girl’s dress, like tiny pearls, probably even brighter when the card was new and cleaner. Her hair ribbon is sumptuously velvety holding her abundant curls, a gold bracelet on her arm. An artificial blush to her cheeks and rosiness to her lips have been applied via a paint brush in the same tones as the flowers on her dress. She is not a child having her photo taken for her doting parents, she is hired for this reproduction card.

I’m not sure I really have many other photos in my collection that are like this although they exist in abundance. It relates most closely to the sort of birthday greeting cards of a small child and Felix that I might have,

I cannot blame cats for disliking that loss of autonomy. I am quite sure if I was small enough to be carried about I would resent it as well and I feel a bit guilty every time I turn the bathroom water off while Blackie has commandeered the sink there. He would of course have me turn it on and off all day and I have other plans for my time but it is unfortunate he has been unable to acquire the needed skill.

I always had a strong disliked not being in charge of my own destiny, even in the smallest sense, since I was a child. I was a quiet kid but I remember that I seethed a bit at the casual bouncing to and fro you are subjected to as a small child – left to stay with grandma or required to go somewhere or do something when you would prefer not to. I looked forward to adulthood as the end of that and I was right. Some of that attitude has lingered, although my reluctance to learn to drive a car has bedeviled it a bit – if you cannot drive you are dependent on others, unless of course you live in New York City which I do for the most part.

Back of card.

The back of the card shows it was mailed on June 20, 1912 – although the year is a bit obscured. It was mailed to the Missis Speedays in Keswick, but I cannot see if it says where it was mailed from. In a bold black hand it says, I am enjoying myself very much. I don’t think I will come home when you come back. Peter. We’ll assume it was tongue in cheek but there is something about it that maybe seems a bit serious too. Alas, what were the Misses doing in Keswick and where was Peter? Poor Peter was left out.

Despite what I wrote earlier, Blackie is on my lap and positively insisting on hugs and pets – both handed mind you. It isn’t just what we don’t want, but equally the attention we insist on too. I suppose this holds for people as well as cats.

The Commanding Officer

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Another in the long line of postcards from the show earlier this month. Although I am somewhat judicious in my acquisition of this avenue of cat photography they do slip in occasionally. Pictorama readers know I have a bit of a weak spot especially for kittens posing with the moon cards. (Read about one of those here.) Cats in clothes can be worthy of my notice, like this one.

Recent photo of Milty, senior cat of NJ.

This senior fellow of a puss in this picture is peeved at his human constructed accoutrements. Maybe his longstanding role at the photo studio was more mouser than model normally – he is an elder statesman of cats no doubt and I am sure claws in teeth sufficed for his real world duties. (He reminds me of my cat Milty whose age seems to hover in the early 20’s.)

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

Someone has given him a tiny sword to wear at his side and a homemade tri-corner hat with plume stuck in, but again he seems decidedly displeased with the decoration. He does have a battle weary mug and the aging physique of an old guy. His tail must be wrapped around him on the other side as no sign of it. His white paws are a bit grotty and the whites around his chin not quite white any longer either. His fur is that of an elderly cat.

The card has a copyright by the Rotograph Company from 1906 on the front. And this particular one was mailed in 1909, on August 13 from North Hackensack, NJ. It was mailed to Miss D. A. Brown, River Edge, NJ. I was not familiar with River Edge and it turns out to be near Paramus in northern Jersey.

The slightly illegible back of the card.

I have to say, although the handwriting on the face of it looks legible I am having trouble decoding the message address to Dolores. A card from Dolores seems to have arrived by a later train then it should have and there are plans here for the evening in question. It gives some thoughts about places they may go (Maeks? she has written clearly) and R.E. and ends with instruction to come in the surrey with your Dexter and it is signed Aunt Lila. Of course I can’t be sure but Aunt Lila probably didn’t care what card she grabbed for this purpose, however she too may have been aptly named The Commanding Officer. Just a guess.

Actually, I pulled this card out of the stack because I think I too am a bit weary from my roles and responsibilities right now as captain of this particular ship. Demands of work, taxes, wrapping up my mother’s estate and even the imperative to make soup on this rainy Saturday, seems like more than I should have taken on – however understanding that much of it arrived unbidden and of its own accord. Maybe it is just a case of the April blues, but this commanding officer (such as I am) is tired today and I too would prefer to lose the yoke of tiny sword and hat and romp freely for a bit.