old cat photo

Kits!

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Hard to resist a photo of kittens and I fell for these little fellows, not once but twice!  The high fidelity of these snapshots jumped out at me and I thought the two photos should stay together. I purchased them separately, a week or so apart.

Looks like this group was quite the handful. Two tuxedoes – what a haul! I am a sucker for the black spot on the chin of the one. The tabby is the one who looks like the hell raiser of the group; the white one is the sweet guy. Purring fluff balls!

The cuteness of kittens is clearly a necessary design of nature given the upheaval they generally cause. I remember when I first acquired my cat Otto as a tiny kitten – stinky, messy and determined to tear the apartment to pieces – her good looks saved her on many occasions as she scaled furniture and sometimes walls. She had jumping projects – for example she practiced repeatedly until she could jump to the top of the fridge from the floor. A loud crowing meow of pleasure when she made it! Just about the time you think you can’t stand it another day, bam! They have graduated and are magically less stinky, cleaner and civilized enough for everyone to get along.

The first cat I really remember as a kitten was my orange tabby Pumpkin. A gift from a friend whose Persian cat had strayed, he was an angelic ball of fur, small enough to be held in one hand and spend his first few nights in a Kleenex box. He eventually grew to the size of a small dog, with a huge striped tail and immense, sturdy cat paws. He allowed me to carry him around, but no one else dared pick him up. Pumpkin was a one girl cat. (That is until my father, in retirement, wooed him with smoked salmon and won his undying affection.)

Our Blackie and Cookie are barely out of kittenhood – Cookie still chases her tail routinely and needless to say they speed through the apartment for a rousing game of kill-the-guy several times a day. They are the first litter mates I have had since childhood. They are best friends who love to hate each other – that’s what being a kit is all about it seems.

We are out of town as this gets published – far away from our cat kids. Miss you guys! See ya soon!

Speaking of Cats

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Before the internet and cat videos, there were cat postcards! This one from 1917 is bizarre and fascinates me. It is dated 1917 on the back and addressed to Mademoisell Zhiere Dreval a Jounnel (?) Vienna. I cannot read the French inscription and, oddly, there is no stamp despite the note, date and full address. However, it is clearly the front of this card that is of interest. A soldier surrounded by these Louis Wain-esque cat heads – depicting the moods of cats!

Let’s start with the obvious – why a soldier? Were these handed out to the French army in WWI so soldiers would be able to judge the various states of cats they might encounter along the way? One has to wonder – very wise of them if true.

In clockwise direction, starting with Doux they translate on Google as follows:

Doux = Sweet
Ardent = Burning
Gourmand = Greedy
Vorace = also translated as Greedy
Inactif = Inactive
Bouillant = Boiling
Fougueux = Mettlesome
Actif = Active

Gourmand and mettlesome are my favorites! The moustached soldier seems to be providing some sort of hand signals as well, mystically floating as he is, in front of a lurid sunset or sunrise.

There was a popular British book, The Language of the Flowers, illustrated by Kate Greenaway, which was published in 1884. It lists the meanings of various flowers – I was fascinated by a reproduction copy I had when I was a child. I wondered immediately if this was a play on that. I have grabbed the title page below.

language of the flowers

The truth is, all cats have their own expressions. I have labeled some of ours as follows: Queen of Everything, Huffy Puffy Stuffy, Piss Cat Ears, and Grumpus. Detecting a trend here?

Let Sleeping Cats Lie

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: This fellow caught my attention recently. He looks so nicely settled into this pillow with that little tuft of hair sticking out at the back, over his hind leg. He’s giving us quite a look, under his slightly furrowed brow and almost closed eyes. The ability of cats to deeply enjoy (and employ!) sleep is one of their most well recognized traits. I don’t know about you, but when I am leaving for work on a cold and dreary day, the sight of my kitties settling in for a day-long snooze on the still warm blankets fills me with envy! While our bed is a cat free-for-all even that territory is generally carefully divided. Day-time sleeping allows for a different (more liberal) distribution than nighttime, which seems to break down to Blackie further up the bed, either between me and Kim or behind my knees. Cookie has a pillow at the foot of the bed (a relic from my foot surgery) that she generally claims at night. It is Blackie’s responsibility, evidently, to wake us in the morning. He never got the hang of the time change this year and persists in thinking that 4:30 AM is the right time for the first pass at us.

Beyond the bed, sleeping spots are won and then carefully guarded and occasionally fought over. The top of the couch, near the windows is generally ruled over by Blackie, while Cookie has possession of the chairs – and best of all, a spot on a cushion near Kim where he works. Oh my – she is the Queen of Everything seated there and fiercely defends it against any possible intervention by Blackie; who is indeed jealous. Have a look at her just the other day below.

Cookie as the Queen of Everything

My mother has pointed out that when a cat in the family dies, the cats all shift their sleeping spots to new ones. Not that they take over that cat’s spot, but for some reason the disruption seems to demand a whole rethinking of spots and who belongs where. A bit of cat etiquette and ritual we are unlikely to ever understand.

A Girl and Her Cat

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Here’s a little girl who is looking pretty pleased with herself and her cat – who is also giving us a high step, tail in the air greeting. The little girls is dressed nicely – even sporting a bracelet on her right arm; her dress decorated with a little print hanky. Surprisingly though – because this seems to be her cat and they appear to be delighted with each other- the cat is quite dirty. I didn’t realize it until I received the actual photo. I have seen strays with cleaner whites than this fellow. He or she is a good looking puss, but my, those feet and a major smudge of dirt on the hind leg – won’t do. Most cats won’t allow themselves to be such a mess. Perhaps the photo is documenting his return from some mischief.

Sometimes there is a little fellow that does not learn to clean himself. My cat Pumpkin was one of those. I don’t know if he was taken from his mom too early or if he was a born slob, but that little guy just let old food accumulate on his nose – dreadful! He was orange so it didn’t show as badly as it does on this nice black and whiter. Anyway, we tried cleaning him ourselves and hoped he would follow suit – but no. So finally, in desperation, my mother closed our cat sensible, no-nonsense cat Snoopy (who actually bore a resemblance to this cat) and Pumpkin in the bathroom together overnight. Sure enough, Pumpkin was clean the next morning and he, reluctantly, began keeping himself in a less disreputable fashion from that point on.

From Your Loving Sister

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: At first glance this photograph was all about the foliage for me. I have a real thing for masses of climbing leafy and flowering foliage in high definition like this photo has. A 19th century garden of Eden. Then I focused on the three woman who are so clearly related – especially the one in the middle and the one on the right. Those two (and the cat) staring right at the camera. A formidable group! It is from Britain and is clearly very early. I have yet to identify the exact photo process, but like some others I have mentioned previously, it has a hard shine on it and a slight moire effect when photographed. (It drove poor Kim crazy getting it right when scanning.) I don’t know if this is a form of deterioration or just the nature of it. The definition of the print shows the large negative off to a real advantage.

This card was not mailed. However, written on the back in black pen is, To My New Brother From your loving sisters Elsie. And below that in pencil Family from Sutton Coldfield. Our friend at Google maps tells me that is the Midlands in the UK. As I mentioned, no doubt that these women are related. So interesting how some families, or even just a few people within a family can end up looking so much alike – others, not so much. At one time my brother and I (sporting similar haircuts) looked so much alike that someone I worked with walked up to him at a club in Manhattan and said, “You must be Pam Butler’s brother.”
Of course this card found its way to me because of that great cat. Very much a voting member of that family he has a place of pride, dead center in the photo and he looks right at New Brother – you can almost see him thinking, Yeah, Buddy, me too. Wanna make something of it?

Tom the Bruiser

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Tom the Bruiser

Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Tom is my kinda fella. What a guy! I have long harbored a passion for six-toed (polydactyl?) cats. A commercial card, the copyright information at the bottom reads, No. 5. Copyright 1908, by E. G. Harris, Denver, Colorado. E.G. Harris seems to have had a line of animal novelty cards, but I can’t find much information about them as a company. The back of the card reads, in a child’s handwriting, Dear Cousin Elsie, how are you. we are all well. why don’t you write. answer this card soon. from your loving cousin, Ollie Nitsch. It is addressed to Miss Elsie Pugler, Ellis Kansas. It is dated November 21, 5 PM. You can’t read the 1908, but Ollie dated it as well. Isn’t it interesting that people rarely seem to comment on the photo on the card they send?

Tom clearly spent his sixteen years living hard, and either lost those ears fighting, or was perhaps also a short-ear to begin with. Those six-toed feet look like little boxing gloves on him. Hemingway was famously said to be partial to extra-toed cats, having been given one by a ship’s captain. Evidently polydactyls were prized for ship’s cats and considered good luck to have on board. One imagines that those extra toes might have made for superior mousing ability. When I was a kid I was told all the six-toed cats came from Boston and were descended from a single cat who arrived on board a ship.

One of my very best cat friends was a multi-toed cat – I believe she had seven, not six on each foot, but one was sort of small and hard to see. She had large thumbs and her front toes seemed oddly jointed and made her look like she was standing on tip toes. She was a calico and her name was Winkie. Winks, named by my brother who was very small at the time, was a wickedly smart cat and somehow those giant paws with thumbs made her appear like she was evolving into a new kind of superhuman cat. She had silky soft hair and was endlessly happy to be held and petted. Winkie discovered a stair she could sit on which would allow her to look out a door window and to the driveway when waiting for me to come home from a date; I would be greeted with a meow. She was a chatty cat. There are many stories about Winkie (she taught herself to use the toilet for one), but for now I will mention that she actually replaced an earlier multi-toed kitten who only lived a few days. My father had been filming a story with Roger Caras (famous reporter of all things animal) and brought the little guy home. Sadly he died in his sleep a few days later. When a friend of my mother’s heard that the kitten had died suddenly she sent us Winkie, fresh off a farm in South Jersey.

I have not had a cat with extra toes since Winkie, but remain convinced they are indeed special and I feel an extra sort of kinship with any and all I meet which is why I snatched up this card immediately.

With love from Puss

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: God bless the British and their devoted postcard writing at the turn of the century! So many nice cards and notes as here. This card was sent to B. Grey, at 144 Grosvenor Terrace, Camberwell, SE, from Folkestone and is postmarked March 11, 1909, 11 PM. On the back the following is written in fountain pen ink, Dear Bobbie, I know how fond you are of cats so I have sent you on the photo of our cat. I hope to come to see your mother soon. I hope you are all keeping well. Yours lovingly, Ruth.

Puss certainly is a handsome and fluffy specimen of cat, perched on a very romantic looking roof. It would seem the roof was easy access to all given how unconcerned kitty and, we’ll assume photographer, are here.  I am sorry that the chemicals seem to have gone a bit hinky, although Kim does what he can to reduce the moire effect produced by this. I love the soft dark edges though, like a still from a silent film. We will assume Bobby enjoyed it, given the evidence that it is still here with us, over 100 years later.

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Hotsy-Totsy!

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: It was not, and is not really, my intention to start collecting early, risqué photo postcard of women and cats – although there seems to be a deep French tradition of these photos and cards to be explored.  This one got me, in part, because it is a sharply composed photo – all the angles are sort of just right. And there is that super, nicely jointed, little teddy bear she is holding and teasing kit with.

But really I bought it because I like how peeved the cat looks. He has no intention of smiling for the camera – he is most interested in attacking that nice little teddy bear, goddamnit! He is moments away from pouncing and I can imagine that a moment after the shutter clicked he attacked the bear – as well as the arm and the hand holding it. There was probably yelling and maybe even hissing. The cat looks like a nice, big, tabby Tom who knows his way around – hunting mice in that photo studio – a denizen who enjoyed the cushy pillows and soft throws when no one is needing them, layering them in cat hair. Not a prissy kitty at all, but a fellow who knew when and how to sing for his supper as photo prop nonetheless.

Got Milk!

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: For a professional photo postcard, this one runs a bit dark and has a strange metallic glare on it that some old photos seem to get from poor developing – tired hypo? Kim has lightened it a bit for your viewing pleasure which does reduce this effect and makes it much more viewable. It is postally unused and the bottom reads, Direct to Consumer, Copyright, 1907 by  Louis N. Gishwiller. Almeda, Kansas. Quick research only serves to confirm Louis Gishwiller as a photographer in Almeda and that there seem to be prominent descendants who remained active in the life of Almeda subsequently.

At the same time I purchased this I was bidding on another, more homemade one, which I am guessing came from the same collection. Lost that one sorry to say; it would have been nice to keep them together.

This cow/milk/cat concept has long fascinated me. I guess it starts with someone squirting the cat square in the face with some milk straight from the udder and the cat liking it. Cats probably hang out because of the smell of milk anyway. Still, cats don’t especially like getting their face soaked so I figure they must really like the taste of the milk to stand for it.

We are now told that milk is not so good for cats and I have not put any out for a cat in years. However when I was a kid, I used to put a saucer of milk out for my cat Pumpkin nightly, from the time he was a little fellow. (I have written about this glorious orange tabby most recently here in Ahoy! Cats at Sea.) Pumpkin adored his saucer of milk and he would settle in and polish it off in one go, his enormous striped tail slowing waving back in forth in appreciation as he drank it down. Although Cookie and Blackie will not know the joys of a milk nightcap, it should be said that Pumpkin lived to be north of 18 years old it did not seem to harm him substantially in any way.

Mascot – U.S.S. Custodian

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: I never would have guessed how many photos of cats on ships I would acquire over time. I do find these photos irresistible. The stalwart cats of the sea – the preferred mascot for ships, probably due to their predilection for mice and rats which must abound in the cargo and supply areas of these ships. There seems to be real affection for them – hence the photos, many which include a crew member holding them. It is almost an archetype – hard to imagine a dog being a ship’s mascot. This photo postcard is unused and I can find no information on the T.S.S. Custodian.

This scrappy fellow presents his own archetype of  elder statesmen tabbies.  Ears intact, he hasn’t spent his life scrapping with other kitties, but looking at this barrel chested fellow you can imagine that more than a few rodents fell under his claw paws! He probably knew just where and when to prowl the galley in time for a hand-out too.

I have mentioned Zipper, an alley cat rescue who joined our family when I was still quite little. (See prior post, Old Tommy for more on Zipper.) Zips was very grateful for his adoption, but despite having been rescued when he was very young, he never transcended his alley cat roots. His tail, cruelly broken before he came to us, remained perpetually downturned and crooked at the tip. He lived cheerfully among us, but somehow never quite fully domesticated. Zipper ruled our neighborhood with a roving band of fellow kitty miscreants and there will be many future posts devoted to his antics. Still, as I write this I realize that I don’t believe we have a single photo of Zipper. I don’t remember him ever sitting on a lap or accepting more than a few occasional pets. Our large, gentle cat Snoopy, endured him with a bit of a sniff. Snoopy was top cat of the house, but didn’t need the title of King Cat of Waterman Avenue which seems to have belonged to Zipper.

When I was about 12 we moved several blocks away. Zipper, however, refused to make the move and returned repeatedly to his stomping ground. Luckily, there was an elderly neighbor who had a soft spot for him and said she would take him in. Zipper never had to give up his title and fight for new turf, and when he was ready to retire we were pleased to know he had the devotion of someone who doted on him, fed him delicacies and gave him a proverbial place by the fire.