Bum, 25 lbs Cat, Jackman, Maine

Pam’s Pictorama Post: I felt a bit hoodwinked on this card as I suspect that it was slightly enhanced on the listing where I purchased it. I share it with you slightly enhanced here as well – it is a bleached out, over exposed image on the top half where the puss is featured. This was probably due to the travails of indoor photography and the challenges of photographing Bum.

Having said that Bum does not give the appearance of being difficult, wishing to move quickly, or for that matter needing to relocate any time soon. He looks perfectly comfortable on his perch atop the scale which (in theory because we cannot really read it) is advertising his advanced girth. A careful look reveals that he is parked on a Miller High Life tray for the purpose of the weigh-in.

They are staging the photo with the little fellow on a scale in what seems to be the luncheonette type restaurant attached to the hotel, formica topped table with a metal edge to service a faux leather booth. We can spy a heat register under the table. Close examination reveals that a large ashtray and an advertisement for something called Irish Cream share the table. (The Irish Cream is advertised by a woman in a long dress, decorated with clover leaves.)

Bum is a fine specimen of enormous tabby. While he is certainly hefty he appears to carry it well and in all reality is also a really big kitty. He has a nice bloopy nose which I always like on a cat. His tail is curled around him. He does manage to look right at the camera, somehow intuiting the import of the moment. 25 pounds seems to be the general upper end for cats and I’m not sure I have had any that approached it – although our enormous orange stripe Persian mix, Pumpkin, may have gotten up there. I don’t remember weighing him in his prime, but maybe pushing 20 lbs.

*Feathers, 40 lbs of kitty! See post link below. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.*

Fat cats and recording their enormity is a sub-genre of cat photos in its own right. I have two in my collection I have written about previously, A Cat Named Boy (with the post which can be read here) and Feathers about whom a 2016 post can be read here. Meanwhile, Feathers claimed to be world famous and weighed in at an amazing 40 lbs!

While this is an unarguably lousy photo, oddly enough I found it in the collection of the Penobscot, Marine Museum online. Same bum burned out photo, at least as bad as mine, no further information. It is the only reference to Bum I could find, his fame faded. Meanwhile, the Jackman Hotel appears to be gone, unless it has become the Jackman Motel with shingled, cottage-style buildings. The argument against that might be that it also appears to be contemporaneous with the writing of this postcard.

This postcard was send on June 8, 1954 to Beverly and Barbara Meyers whose address was quite simply Delta, Pa. We know it arrived the morning of June 10 as far as Delta as it is stamped there as well. It says, Mon. June 7th, Hi, We are having a beautiful trip. We drove through the mts today. We will be in Quebec around noon Tuesday. Bum, the kitty is a beautiful sight, we petted him or I wouldn’t believe he is a real cat. Isabel and Ralph. I am glad they recorded having giving him a few pets! As hotel mascot, and in deference to his weight, we’ll assume he lived a pretty good life as the feline denizen of the hotel.

Despite the quality of the photo postcard we are nonetheless honored to have Bum, another lovely fat cat, join the Pictorama archive of cat record and fame.

Julian: Marvelous Cat Impersonator

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: One of the occupational hazards of being Pam of Pictorama fame is that researching a post occasionally leads you directly to purchasing something else and today’s card came into my possession while researching last week’s cat impersonators.

Like those two cards acquired from a single seller (those posts can be read here and here) today’s impersonator also hails from Great Britain. I don’t know if it is that animal impersonation as entertainment was better or more robust in England, but it did at a minimum produce more visual evidence which is jolly detritus for us to pick through a hundred or more years later.

*Another fluffy version of kitty from a post last week. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.*

Sadly there are no easily found tracks about Julian and his cat act. As Kim pointed out and I must agree, there is something still very much of him even when he dons his cat costume. I find that he includes a photo of himself sort of interesting and he’s a rather intense looking young man here. Under his picture it says, Marvelous Cat Impersonator and Anatomical Puzzle. I really do wonder about the anatomical puzzle part – what could that mean? Was he able to execute uniquely cat like motions and poses? Amazing dislocation of joints? Did he perhaps sport a tail? (Now that would be something!)

Julian is a very long haired cat (impersonators seem to lean to the Persian type), and he sports a big bow. As I noted above, while his mask certainly covers his entire face there remains something of his affect even with it on. His cat eyes are set a bit close and I can’t say there is anything endearing about his cat. No wish to cuddle this puss – or even meet him really. Still, it might have been a very good show.

The back of the card reveals that this was actually a Christmas greeting and (in red) reads as follows: Christmas and New Year 1913-14/Wishing You The Compliments of the Season. from “Julian” Panto, 1913-14. The Grand Theater, Byker, Newcastle-on–Tyne. The card was never used and there is nothing written on it.

There is nary a snippet to be located about Julian and his cat act – not even the sort of listing in an old theatrical newspaper like sometimes turns up in my research. He has left no tracks. However, the Grand Theater has a traceable history. It was built in 1896 and closed its doors in 1954. The building remained standing if derelict until a fire in April of 1964 when it was then demolished. (I would share a photo of it, but none of the sites wish to let me today.)

In 1913 it seems it got its film license was just starting to commit to showing films in advance of the live shows, as many theaters were. 1913 and ’14 would have been rollicking years with numerous large theaters in this downtown area of Byker, an eastern district of Newcastle-on-Tyne. The Grand originally seated over 2,200 people, a number of seats which was reduced by more than 400 when the equipment for showing film was installed.

Let the Cat Impersonators Cont. Part 2

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Day two of cat impersonator photo postcards! Unfortunately as over exposed as the last one was, this one is equal parts too dark. Both yesterday and today’s cards hail from a dealer in England and were purchased at the same time but separately.

Today we have a rather doggy cat in a more elaborate costume – I could go either way on this. One can imagine that this one might have had devices to make a tail twitch or a jaw open and close. He is more furry than yesterday’s model and if I had to guess I might say that yesterday’s was earlier and more primitive but of course it could have just been a cheaper production. The face seems to be a two part affairs with the snout separate.

Like yesterday’s card this one was never sent and has a layer of dirt helping to attest to age which is unknown. I am not quite sure I can guess why kitty is backed into a corner behind a chair for this photo – we will assume that it was part of the plot perhaps?

While yesterday’s card screamed vaudeville act this one might make us think about film as well. I am reminded of my photo still of Nana from Peter Pan, one of my favorite examples of an animal impersonator although a dog of course. (That post can be found here.) Still, practically speaking, likely this was some sort of a stage act as well.

*Nana from Peter Pan. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.*

The range of design and assembly in these costumes fascinates me. This one, to the extent we can see it, appears to be professionally (very skillfully) made. Still, there’s often some thing a bit indeterminant about the precise species of animal in question on these images. Feline dogs, canine cats and a range of sort of bear like critters. Of course we don’t see them fully inhabited and in motion – their animation may have further described and defined them.

I believe I have commented before on the sheer annoyance of my cats when I plop a pair of cat ears on my head for Halloween. They all but shake their heads in disappointment and distress – like the kitty equivalent of a racist joke. One can only imagine their response to a furry full body costume! (As for fur, on the one occasion I remember an elderly friend wearing a mink in my apartment – my then cat Miss Otto Dix – a feral female feline – went nuts at the sight of it. She and the coat had to be separated by a closed bedroom door.)

*****

As I write this it is Saturday evening and I am in New Jersey with the five Butler cats. They are pleased with the attention of my being here and they have piled all their toys in the living room for a kitty party. These guys are gearing up for an all-night romp which I will be privy to through my bedroom door.

Spike

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: This card wandered into the house last night, in a pile of interesting mail, especially robust as we hadn’t picked up our mail in a few days – more on that in a bit. It was nestled against a wonderfully long, newsy letter from our friends Pete (Poplaski) and Rika in France. Kim read the letter aloud to me while killing time before picking up take out. A delightful distraction, but resulting in my just having a good look at the card now.

I have a weakness for photos of men with cats (see early posts here and here) and a dog seems like a bonus round. Since Spike is the only name in evidence I will speculate that it belongs to the dog or the man? Neither disinterested kit looks like a Spike. This is a photo postcard and nothing is written on the back. The card was never mailed.

*From a very early Pictorama post, Men and Cats.* *Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.*

If we look closely this chap is posing on the flat roof of a house, the eve of the house next door confirming this speculation. (The house in Jersey has such a flat roof out the bathroom window, but no plans for us to climb out onto it in the foreseeable future. Given the roof issues I’ve had with that part of the house I would say likely never.) This is evidently an old house with tatty, long and worn wooden shudders that look like they have done real window protecting work, hence their dilapidation. A bit of a decorative railing appears to one side of that and I wonder if the actual balcony was in theory limited to that area.

Our human is sporting a suit and tie, hat perched atop his head, and a big grin. He is sitting on a chair of which there is very little evidence – I thought at first he was squatting in order to get everyone into the frame at first. The cats, a lovely little tuxie and a somewhat spotty white one, are obediently perched on each leg.

Bonus video of Blackie considering a water “fountain” a friend sent him as he demands bathroom sink water constantly. While entertained by it not sure he actually “gets” it yet.

The dog, who wears a hefty collar, is at his feet and has a somewhat concerned look if we peer closely. The trees behind him and into the distance have leaves but seem vaguely half-hearted, perhaps it is fall and their denuding has begun. A very careful look at the horizon reveals a few other rooftops and more beyond, but that and the sky are completely burned out.

*Evidence of our battle with the Afrin bottle. Bloody but now bowed.*

Zipping back to life here in New York City. Those of you who follow me on Instagram may have already seen allusions to Covid having come to visit Deitch Studio. Shown above is the evidence of Kim and I going to war with a bottle of Afrin whose childproof cap proved to be largely human proof. We ultimately scored a victory over it, but it cost Kim a bad cut on his drawing thumb and a less significant one on my wrist. (My thanks to him for his sacrifice to help clear my head!)

Kim, who was felled first, seems to have reached the shores on the other side of well while I am getting there, slowly. Cats are very spoiled, with a lot of me petting and treat time – all discipline with them out the window in my malaise. All this to say, there are some great toys waiting to make their debut, a belated birthday to ultimately celebrate. Hopefully I can tackle some of these with renewed tomorrow.

Post Valentine

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: This one is sneaking in just under the line after Valentine’s Day. It is what I gave Kim for Valentine’s Day this year.

Some years here it is just a heartfelt card, but this year I was digging around on eBay and buying a few vintage cards which you have seen in prior posts (here and here) and this was one little prize I found. It’s a simple design, a bright red heart with this wonderful little cat attached, with silly white hearts drawn around the outer edge.

Of course the little metal cat attached to the top Stanley (the recipient of this card) had the good sense not to take it off. The poem reads:

To My Valentine
If you love me
you’ll love my CAT
And see that it’s befriended;
So if I hear you saying “Scat”
I’ll know my chance is ended.

The back reads, To Stanley S. From Madelaine and Dorothy Haskel (?) And we see this bit of twisted wire that sticks out the back, securing the cat charm to the front. I sort of love that two sisters sent this and I like the last name initial too – was there another Stanley in the class perhaps? Which, if either, sister did Stanley like best? Was the two sister approach to hide the real affection of one? One wonders.

Then, I was cruising around Instagram and one of my favorite folks in Texas (@curiositiesantique or www.getcuriosities.com) put this little gem up and I grabbed it. Kim is an inveterate collector of (lucky) heads up pennies on the sidewalk and so this with a penny embedded within seemed just right for him. It is a lucky keyring which promises, Keep me and never go broke around the outer edge and, in case that wasn’t direct enough, I bring good luck at the bottom.

The penny has a date of 1972 so we will date it to then. On the back we discover its real missive, Nick V. Caputo County Clerk Essex Vote Democrat. Turns out he was the Essex County (NJ) Clerk from 1961 to 1991. He was known as the man with the golden arm which had something to do with always drawing the Democrats for the first position on the ballot, the odds of which were 1 in 50 billion! Huh. (For those of you who are curious about this, and perhaps understand it better, you can read more in an article from the Jersey Globe here.)

Someone liked it enough to keep it all this time and it made its way down to Texas. It is back here in the tri-state area though, bringing my sweetheart luck and prosperity.

The (Truly) Great ’25 Valentine Reveal!

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: There are a handful of traditions here at Deitch Studio and Pam’s Pictorama that we hold dear and none is so anticipated and celebrated than the annual Valentine Kim makes for me. A tradition that reaches back to our first year together (now a few decades back), today’s is an entry in a long line of wonderful drawings, all which have depicted me and illustrated my interests over the decades and placing me at the heart of my own Catland. (This includes frequent allusions to me as the jolly and of course benign ruler of the land, Queen of Catland. A few examples can be found here, here and here and other pictures below.)

*A February 2020 edition. This too could be Margate! Pams-Pictorama.com collection.*

This year is very special however. The idea grew out of a recent post some of you may remember devoted to review the splendid new biography of Louis Wain, Catland, which can be read here. Kim has brought to life my suggestion that there was a moment when Louis Wain and T.S. Eliot were living on different sides of the same beachside community, Margate, where I have noted, many people had photo postcards made posing with a splendid giant Felix the cat doll. (Some of those posts can be found here and here.)

Kim has brought all these elements together. Rather than running into each other and meeting TS and Louis are both so wrapped up in their own views of the world they never see each other – although Felix loitering outside the photo studio arguably sees them both. They are both witnessing a (real) catburgler in action – for Eliot it inspires the poem Macvity the Mystery Cat (who appears to be reading about his exploits at the bottom) while Wain wanders off into a world of anthropomorphic kits which, around the perimeter of the picture range from jaunty to disintegrating, and forming Cubist cat delights.

*A Margate Felix. Pams-Pictorama.com collection.*

Louis is painting the very scene, or a variation on it, while some of his humanoid cats enjoy exploits swimming and strolling just out of the frame. Big white kitties standing on their hindlegs point at the scene with even more imaginative cats portraits above them. T.S. Eliot recovering from a nervous breakdown, meeting Louis Wain drifting off into his own world of ever morphing felines.

In some ways, this is the perfect melding of worlds, Wain’s, Eliot’s, mine and Kim’s. Bravo yet again my beloved Mr. Deitch!

T.S. Eliot
1888 - 1965

Macavity: The Mystery Cat (1939)
Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw —
For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime — Macavity’s not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime - Macavity’s not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air -
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!

Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square -
But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there!

He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s.
And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair -
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!

And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty’s gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair -
But it’s useless to investigate - Macavity’s not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
‘It must have been Macavity!’ - but he’s a mile away.
You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

Birthday Week

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I think the impression people may get is that I like my birthday, although the reality is actually that I am a bit ambivalent about it and have taken control of it to the extent I can. As my mother would say however, it is far better than the alternative. Years and years ago in my 20’s, I decided that I would try to take the situation in hand and create birthday traditions for myself and therefore be less disappointed in the enterprise. This has largely worked, some years more successful than others.

Those who have been down this road with me before know that my birthday occurs alongside Valentine’s Day (the great Kim Deitch Valentine’s Day reveal is here tomorrow – mark your calendars!) which posed challenges for the admirers and boyfriends of the young Pam Butler.

I was born in a snowstorm if not downright blizzard. Mom and Dad sussed out the situation pretty quickly and got her to the hospital to have me in the late afternoon (He was annoyed I interrupted his office hours, Mom used to say) amidst growing piles of snow. It frequently snows, sometimes a lot, on my birthday. I remember at least two whopping snowstorms in my early adulthood, stop everything kind of days, here in the city. And along with the snow, a myriad of plans cast aside at the last minute for alternative plans. I learned to lean local for my birthday.

Birthday traditions include trying to have a meal with my various other Aquarian friends. Currently this has whittled down to just a couple of favorites with folks moving or among the elder generation, passing. Still, they are always wonderful and I saw one friend earlier this week for dinner although have yet to set the date for the other – we’ve been known to wander into March too, spreading it out. Bygone traditions included spending the day with my late sister, Loren, and mom sending flowers or acquiring lavish cakes.

Kim and I will spend a day next weekend sort of gloriously wandering somewhere in the city next weekend. (I head to NJ for a clutch of doctor’s appointments there – and to visit the NJ cats who will help greet the new birth year on Tuesday.) Potentially we’ll be bundled up if the weather predictions hold. Snow is scheduled to start tonight and, after a brief melt possibly tomorrow, continue on through the beginning of the week.

This year, as declared in a post last week, I went on a bit of a vintage Valentine’s Day binge and while looking I came across today’s card which seemed perfect for me to align and honor my black cat, Valentine’s Day and birthday interests.

It is British and therefore the black cat is a lucky symbol – their horseshoe is also facing down whereas I think we usually portray it up (to hold the luck!) on this side of the pond. In addition to this smiling cat there is a four leaf clover, should we have any doubts. (There will be more about lucky objects coming next week so stay tuned.)

It declares: Upon your happy Birthday morn, I wish you Joy and Pleasure. And everything you’d like to have Heaped up in brimming measure! It has a spot for From at the bottom (what about To?) and someone has penciled in, as best I can tell, E. M. Pinder.

It has this interesting sort of deckle edge to the card and on the back it reads, Mrs. c/o Mrs. Plumb, 25 Hassett Road, Homerton and on the other side, For Minnie. The stamp is a halfpenny one and it was sent on March 7,1912, just short of 113 years ago. This makes its somewhat discolored state a bit more forgivable.

*Beau, the black cat beauty to whom I refer.*

In closing I also offer a birthday card from a friend that arrived in the mail last night. It looks remarkably like Beauregard, one of the Jersey Five. Makes an excellent case for a celebratory cat tierra, not to mention cape.

Concern for cats…

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I used to say that I would like to retire to a cat farm in Connecticut. Now, far from retired, those of you who follow my story know that it does appear that I roughly run one in New Jersey in addition of course to the feline folks here in New York. Additionally, my work life is now very animal centric and I can say I find myself in a place where I can have some very catty days indeed. Today I am dedicating a bit of space to my feline friends understanding it may not be the cat’s meow for all readers.

*Peaches sees a bird out the window. She is ever watchful of the outside perimeter.*

Just last Friday at work I found myself having a delightful hour crawling around on the floor of our member’s lounge with two new visitors, such good kitties they were out of their carriers and investigating the premises. Their mom adopts special needs cats only and is able to devote time and resources to their care. They are remarkably well adjusted cats and sat on my lap for pets and purrs.

*Stormy is most likely to be seen at meals.*

In general, unlike dogs (some actually seem to enjoy a visit to our premises – others less so) cats are rarely up for an actual visit when they are at the vet. This is certainly true of mine. If left with me in an exam room Blackie will immediately start to examine all possible exits for a getaway, first checking the perimeter of the room and gesturing to the doors – come on mom, we can make a break for it. I had another cat, Otto, an excellent jumper, who would look upward and the next thing I knew she went from my shoulder to atop high cabinets and had to be fetched by office staff. It is more than fair to say I meet many more cats these days, albeit those under the duress of being at the vet.

*Beauregard who has recently discovered the pleasures of Zoom and sitting on my desk in NJ.*

My work integrates daily thinking about cat projects as well – fund a cat recovery area in surgery or ICU anyone? Pay for some research? The largest number of patients are dogs, and frankly we care for many exotics (it seems to me I have seen a lot of guinea pigs coming and going lately and even heard tell of a goldfish). One day in the hall one of our staff rushed past me with a teeny, tiny turtle in a plastic tub. However, cats are far from uncommon.

Cats (dogs – and other animals) which need to be rehomed are sometime detailed and emailed to staff as it is, obviously, a huge network of animal people. This in addition to a daily dose of cat tales and woes on posts via the internet where adoption and loss seem to vie for attention. Lovely adult and senior cats who have lost their home due to circumstances changing – illness, death or indifference.

*Sunny front door action at the NJ house. A prime morning spot.*

As much as the New Jersey cats are tended and adored in my absence I worry about them. Although it has worked out better than I thought it would and it was definitely how my mom wanted it. I continue to consider it a work in progress.

Here in New York, Blackie continues to confound us with a newfound desire to drink water from the sink. I have had other cats develop this desire, but Blackie is single minded in his demands. Yes, he has had all sorts of tests run about it and even taking his diabetes into account it is unclear where the increased water intake has come from. In part, one cannot separate out the entertainment factor of making your human perform simple tricks such as turning the faucet on for you when you caterwaul. Still, there is definitely a corresponding urge and he also drinks considerable water from his shared bowl with Cookie.

*Gus on the bed in NJ. He is one cat I think misses getting singular attention.*

Blackie’s sister Cookie has become a more affectionate cat as she gets older. She is demanding in her own way (in fact we sometimes call her Demanda) but usually for pets, preferring morning and evening specially for those. Cookie is unusual in that she is the only cat I have ever known who truly likes having her tummy rubbed – like a dog. She will roll and stretch and request our attention for this. She and Blackie will share the bed during the day, but once I get into it at night she eschews it. Blackie has the job of waking us in the morning and only if we refuse to stir by about 6:15 will Cookie take matters in hand and race across the bed a few times to see if she can eject us manually.

So this morning I find myself wishing I could give them all a home, but a bit overwhelmed by my own inherited menagerie at times. Wouldn’t trade my daily dose of cats however, although I am learning to appreciate dogs too – more to come?

Picture Purr-fect

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Let the Valentine’s Day and Butler Birthday season commence early here this year. We have a lot to show and share for ourselves this February.

Valentine’s and photography seem to be a natural combination when I look at vintage valentine’s. Although I generally am perusing the cats (I have posted a few past puss ones here and here), but occasionally like today, these interests align. I am a tad puzzled about photography as a sub-category of vintage valentine’s.

Of course movement in a Valentine is also desirable – I am not someone who needs elaborate movement. I might enjoy seeing those, but my space constraints make storing or displaying them untenable.

*Liked this one, but decided it was a bit too fragile and large to live here at Deitch Studio.*

I am perhaps not the best steward of vintage Valentines truth be told as they are a bit fragile. This one is actually zipping off to someone shortly after the writing of this – surprise! (See if you know who you are.)

Our cameraman kitty has what I think of as a press camera which…seems to produce playing cards in the suit of hearts! Clever cat! He has a nice big blue bow (that and because he is an orange tabby I have decided its a boy) and sits on a more or less matching cushion. The bow is the mechanism for the card to be “pulled out” of behind the camera.

*This in the “down” position before the card is revealed!*

If you want to get technical there’s maybe something a bit off about the paw holding the camera in front, a bit small. On the cushion it is inscribed, If you, my Valentine will be – you’ll hear a great big Purr from me. On the back in an adult hand it says, To Betty Jo from Jacqueline. It is also marked 10 cents in two places. There is no date, although at the bottom right corner there is a very tiny 1924 copyright date.

*Mechanism, old prices and dedication on the back.*

Personally, I grew up in the era of the big plastic covered box of small cards which I think may still be produced in some fashion – they were so ubiquitous that if nothing else there is probably old dead stock around. As a very small child we were set to making them out to everyone in the class which seems nicely egalitarian, although I have no particular memory about whether this was an effective solution. It took some effort, writing the card and the envelope, tucking it in. They were then put into a large bag and then distributed.

*Etsy appears to reproduce reasonable facsimiles of the packages I might have had as a kid.*

Over time the powers that control small children got less controlling and Valentine’s accumulated from you immediate circle of friends, occasionally widen by an ambitious classmate or, as we got older, a brave boy who took it into his head to send one. I’m not sure we ever got ourselves beyond those tiny cards – the luxury and investment of singular cards like this were not in our orbit.

In addition, there were those boxes of candied hearts with sayings. While accumulating them seemed to be the thing to do, I wasn’t an especially big fan of consuming them being more of a chocolate treat over the pure sugar approach. I believe in addition to the rather classic straightforward messages, Spangler, the current maker in a long line of producers, has kept up and now have messages about things like text me and BFF.

*Available from Walmart to Amazon and beyond.*

There are classic Valentine’s consumables which I embraced and still embrace. My father was always good for a classic heart shaped box of candy wrapped in lurid red cellophane. I would say when we were young it was Russell Stover, but got a bit more high end as we got older. He would also sometimes bring home something for us and I remember (and used for many years) a silver heart keychain from Tiffany. (I have the remains of it in a jewelry box.) I will likely buy one of these boxes for the office where our new digs has helped create a better sense of community around shared food treats.

*Has changed very little over the years. I especially like the strawberry creams…*

More Valentine’s treat posts to come – culminating of course with Kim’s picture for me which is a real wonder this year! Stay tuned as we say…

Milton the Cat

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Kim had the excellent suggestion this morning that I might consider each of the cats individually for a post, starting with some of the New Jersey guys (and gals). Peaches was featured in a post (which can be read here) not that long ago so this would be the second of the lucky kits seven to be in the spotlight. (My father’s wonderful cat Red who died not that long after him was featured in a post here.)

*Beau, Gus and Milty waiting for breakfast one morning.*

Milty, as he is generally known, is the most senior, if somewhat titular, head of the New Jersey manor. He is, by our best guestimate, about 21 years old. I’m afraid I don’t have any photos of a young Milty. As you can see, he’s an almost tabby, white with copious tabby spots, a sort of every cat.

*Milty achieving pets on the arm of the chair.*

He came to my mom as a tiny kitten rescued in Newark with a terrible long cut down his back. Because of that, I guess, he came to mom with the moniker of Knifey which she thought was an awful name and hardly described this genial little ball of fluff. He was found and rescued him on Milton Street (Newark Harrison Plaza to be precise it would appear) in Newark and Mom went with Milton as his name, Milty most of the time. Meanwhile, his back injury was so severe that he had to be isolated away from her other cats for a few months while it healed.

My parents were still in the (very large) house I grew up in and Milty had a room upstairs where he spent his first few months. That was a rough and tumble house of more or less five cats at the time, but eventually Milty found, and probably occasionally fought, his way into the milieu.

It was, I believe, not long after my sister Loren died that Milty came to Shrewsbury Drive. It also became a tumultuous time with my folks packing up that house ultimately and leap frogging to a rental before moving into the house I have now. So while a new kitty is always a thing of joy I think things like hurricane Sandy followed by my parents packing up and moving overshadowed his arrival somewhat. He slipped quietly and seamlessly into the life of the Butler household.

*Winsome putting her hat on him on a whim last year.*

Milty was always a pretty easy going guy. Slowly he moved up the ranks of mom’s cats over time and there was a moment where it was just him and two others before mom went on a cat acquisition streak not much more than two years before she died, bringing their number to five.

Of all of the cats, Milty is the friendliest and in fact actually demands to be petted by all comers to the house – sitting by you and reaching out with a tapping paw gently. He has a good memory for the regular visitors who pay attention to him and runs right to them. He does not discriminate by age – he is perfectly willing to let Anaya, Winsome’s granddaughter age 3, have her first, tentative cat pats with him. His fur is amazingly soft and he has gotten fluffier, not less so, with age.

He is a bit of a grump and tyrant these days when it comes to food. If given his way a stream of cans would be opened for him ongoing throughout the day. He has the annoying (for the other cats) habit of eating the first wet bits out of every dish as they are put out – taking the best moist bits off the top. He drinks copious (truly vast) amounts of water daily and is said (by mom) to have tumors in his stomach. In the mornings that I am there he meows loudly and urgently for his breakfast until it is served, he and
Beau eat first there.

Milty is demanding for attention as well and sits on the arm of your chair and gently grabs your arm, just a few gentle claw paws, for pets. Unfortunately, he is not a well behaved lap cat and the claws are in play for starfish paws and he tends to get moved along. He is the top ranked puker in the house and has other occasional accidents, not surprising I guess given his age and other factors.

*Peaches smiling and giving Milty a pat.*

He enjoys a surprisingly good relationship with essentially all of the other cats. (He has no use for the New York cats when they visit but that seems fair. He mixed it up with Blackie on our last visit, marching into the bedroom one morning to see where breakfast was. He also swatted a friend’s dog who wandered into the house with him one evening.) I tend to find an odd combination of cats curled up with Milty. The most surprising is Peaches, our most feral and generally resistant feline. I frequently find her curled up with him while giving me a somewhat defensive look. Gus also likes to sit with (or sometimes on) Milts and Milty never appears bothered. He is the Switzerland of cats.

High jumping was never his thing – the awful long cut on his back perhaps – and he generally stays near to the ground now and rarely gets up higher than a low chair. Aside from that he is surprisingly spry and greets all visitors like the retired mayor of a small town who sits out in a sunny rocking chair on the front porch of the general store or post office. He expects a certain amount of recognition and fealty.

In some ways I feel bad for Milty as he never quite got to be a singular favorite with a devoted individual tending him. He has been loved but a bit generally by many. We’ve had a few scares with his health and know that at 21 for a cat his time is likely melting away. However, he seems utterly content as the figurative king kitty in the house of Butler.