Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Happy


You can always tell when cats are happy. Sometimes they purr, rub against you, smile, or show their happiness through body language. Here are some happy cats!

Rubbing and purring:


This friendly calico in Beaufort, SC, just came over and rubbed herself against Dale’s hand and purred. Obviously happy for the attention!

Relaxed and asleep in a warm nest:


A sleeping cat, nestled against human legs in a warm bed, is clearly happy! (One of my Manx cats, Joia, 1985)


I think Hazel is smiling in her sleep here!

Rubbing and purring with love for catnip:


Embracing a scratching post and rubbing against catnip makes Hazel happy (not to mention “high!”)

Purring and eyes closing in contentment and trust:


Moxie, formerly my niece’s cat, is happy with the attention given to her by her human caretaker, John.


CFFC: H is for Happy


Traveling Cat Companions

Sometimes I let my cat, Hazel, write this blog, but today I’m taking over so that not ALL  the pictures are of her!!

When I was a kid, we had dogs, but we also had cats, at my insistence! The first cat companion I had, we got from my aunt in Arizona, who had a litter of Manx kittens. Apparently my aunt came for a visit, I don’t remember, bringing the kitten with her. So he traveled all the way from Tucson, Arizona! We named him Kirry, which means “kitty” in Manx.



Kirry in his last years, sitting on the lap of Mrs. Gregus, one of his favorite people. Mrs. Gregus took care of him in his old age. By that time, Kirry was almost blind.


The second cat, half Manx as it happened, that I had for an extended period was when I had moved in with my Brazilian boyfriend in L.A. (He later became my first husband.) He looked at her eyes under the seat of the car and said they looked like jewels, so we named her the Portuguese word for jewel: Jóia.  She was very affectionate toward us but skittish around others. When we moved to Brazil, we took her with us, so she was truly a traveling cat companion!


There are 2 pics that I scanned together. L: Joia is outside and wants to come in; R: Joia sleeping with my husband, Fernando, and my baby son, Jayme

Hazel, our “tortie” 6 1/2 year old cat companion, hasn’t traveled much. She’s an inside cat because there are foxes and coyotes that venture into suburban yards from the nearby forest preserve. She spends a lot of time on window sills, watching “Kitty TV!”  However, we are thinking of renting or buying a camper to travel around the country in, and in that case, she’ll become a traveling cat, too!

Here’s Hazel playing with her current favorite toy!



Ailsa’s Travel Theme: Animal Companions


July 1976. I heard of a sidewalk sale at a nearby mall in Culver City, California, and decided to check it out. I was always happy to find good deals on whatever merchandise that might strike my fancy or was at least utilitarian.

What I went home with that day was a kitten.

I hadn’t intended to get a kitten.  The landlord’s rules for our little apartment building was “no pets.”  But I was walking along the sidewalk at the mall and heard mewing sounds.  I turned to look, and saw a young man and an older woman with a large box. The young man handed a furry gray kitten to an interested passerby.  Smiling, I stopped to admire the kittens.  There were only two of them left, I could see.  It was no more than a casual interest on my part – I loved cats but I wasn’t thinking of getting one.

The next kitten that the young man lifted out of the box was almost identical to the one the passerby was now holding – all ash gray and furry – except that it had NO TAIL!  My interest was immediately piqued; after growing up with a Manx cat as a pet, I was partial to the breed, knowing how affectionate they could be.

“That kitten,” I said to the couple getting rid of the kittens, “it doesn’t have a tail.”

“No, it’s not supposed to,” the young man replied. “It’s a Manx – a breed without a tail.”

“But the other kitten has a tail,” I pointed out.

“Yeah – well, their mother is Manx, but their father – well, we’re not sure who he was, but he definitely wasn’t a Manx!”  So, he explained, it was logical that some of the litter would have tails and some would be tailless. This had been a litter of three – Manx cats tend to have fewer babies than other cat breeds, and one had already been sold.

The young man seemed prepared to explain about Manx cats, since most people don’t know about them, but I said, “I grew up with a Manx cat, and my aunts raise them – I love Manx cats!”

Next thing I knew I was carrying the “stumpy” to my car (she had a stump about an inch long protruding from her behind) wrapped in a small blanket.  Although the couple had hoped to sell the kittens, I had shown such enthusiasm and warmth that they gave her to me for free.  I hadn’t talked to my boyfriend about this, of course – there were no cell phones in 1976 – but I hoped he’d approve of this addition to the household.

gray manx kitten

Leaving the kitten in the car and cracking the windows open an inch or so, I went into a department store to buy basic supplies: a litter box, a small bag of litter, a food bowl and a few cans of cat food. Then I drove home to our apartment in West L.A.

I didn’t bring the kitten in right away – I had to warn my boyfriend first. Besides, I couldn’t find her.

I ran into the apartment and breathlessly told him about the kitten:  “She’s beautiful, but – but – I can’t find her! I’m afraid she escaped!”  Having expected her to meow all the way home, her silence and then not finding her, I was sure she’d escaped somehow, perhaps when I’d opened the door to put my purchases on the front passenger seat.

My boyfriend was delighted and curious to see her.  He came out to the car to help me look for her. We searched what seemed like every cranny of our Toyota Corolla, but then he found her:  he saw in the darkness under the driver’s seat two golden eyes shining out at him.  She was so scared that she had pressed herself into a hard-to-reach corner under the seat and had not even let out a mew of protest. She hadn’t been looking out from under there when I’d searched from her so I didn’t see her.

When he saw those bright shining eyes, my Brazilian boyfriend said, “joia!”  Joia is the Portuguese word for jewel, and it also is a slang term for beautiful.

So this was how our half-Manx kitten got her name even before she came into her new home! Joia – it was perfect.

Kirry: my first cat

Kirry is a Manx word for “cat” or “kitty”. Kirry was, of course, a Manx cat.

I must stop here for some explanation. Probably those of you who are interested enough in cats to read this blog already know about Manx cats. But maybe not. And for those who don’t know much about cats, here’s a bit about Manx cats.

Manx cats originated in the Isle of Man, an island in the Irish Sea. Centuries ago, cats were introduced into the Isle of Man, probably as early as man himself.  Over time, since cats on the island were isolated and didn’t  interbreed with other cats, they developed their most distinguishing feature: the lack of a tail. The gene for taillessness is dominant, and therefore the tailless gene is more likely to be expressed.

There are actually two types of Manx cats, known as “rumpies” (they have no hint of a tail at all) and “stumpies” (they have a “stump” or a very small protrusion at the end of their spine where a tail would begin). Their back legs are longer than their front, to compensate for the lack of a tail, which normally provides balance for the cat.


The Manx breed has become  popular with some cat lovers, including two of my aunts, who had several Manx cats. They are known for being very affectionate and seek out their human companions for attention and TLC – petting, lap sitting, sleeping, etc. They seem to vocalize more than other cats and have a variety of sounds, including trills that sound like inquiries: “What are you doing?” or “Is it time to get up already?”

So it was that, after I wore my parents down begging for a cat, we obtained one, a male stumpy kitten, from my aunt in Arizona. He was a gray striped tabby with white markings on his chest, belly and legs. His name was Kirry and we got him when he was about six months old. I was about ten or eleven when he came into my life.

Kirry, our Manx cat

Kirry, our Manx cat

Everyone loved Kirry – he was a very affectionate and well-trained cat. He was intelligent, affectionate and loved to sleep under the covers with me! My parents insisted on putting both the dog and the cat in the garage before they went to bed at night, a custom I found silly, but usually I didn’t notice, because by the time they took the cat from my room or my brother’s room, we were fast asleep.

My brother, two years old than me, and I alternated nights with Kirry. It was the only fair way to keep from fighting over monopolizing the cat, although I secretly believed my brother didn’t love Kirry nearly as much as I did. My brother teased me mercilessly, and he also teased the cat when he could. Kirry loved to get into paper bags or boxes, so my brother would leave one lying around to entice him, and once he was inside, he would pick up the bag or box and swing it around, causing the poor kitty to howl with fear. If I was around, I would vehemently  insist he leave the cat alone, but my protestations made it all the more fun for him to do it!

Then he’d put the bag or box down, and Kirry would shoot out of it in a flash of fur, getting as far away as he could. Needless to say, it didn’t take long before Kirry lost his curiosity to get into paper bags, especially when that annoying young male human was around!

Kirry got me through adolescence. Junior high was the worst three years of my life, and I often needed comfort after an aggravating day at school. There were two ways I could deal with the emotions of those traumatic times – listening to my Beatles albums and having Kirry with me.

It was as if he could sense my sadness, and he’d come looking for me. He’d jump up on my bed seeking affection – the feeling was mutual! He would stretch his hind legs higher as I stroked his back, he’d lie down and knead me with his paws, purring and purring. Sometimes I would request having Kirry in my bed at night when it was my brother’s turn, after I’d had a particularly bad day. And, uncharacteristically for him, my brother would generally agree.

For more information about Manx cats, here are some web sites (copy and paste into your browser).

http://www.cfainc.org/Breeds/BreedsKthruR/Manx.aspx  (Cat Fanciers Association web site)