Today, August 8th, is International Cat Day. I don’t normally post to my blog on Fridays, but in order to celebrate this very special day I thought I’d break my own rules for once. Doing so gives me an excuse to share more photos of the cats in my life…not that I really need any excuse! Milky Bar, Malteser and Caramel are irresistibly cute, and as such are a reminder of why cats are so popular in every comer of the world.
Caramel…he may look innocent, but he’s invariably guilty!
International Cat Day dates back to 2002, when it was established by the International Fund for Animal Welfare (IFAW) with the aim of promoting the importance of cat welfare and responsible pet ownership. In 2020 responsibility for the annual celebration was passed to International Cat Care, a not-for-profit British organization that has been working for many years to improve the health and welfare of domestic cats across the globe.
Each year, International Cat Day is an opportunity to highlight important feline-focused topics and raise awareness of cats as a species, sharing our resources and information for cat owners and feline enthusiasts around the globe to support their care for cats.
Milky Bar dozes while Caramel shows off. They are two very different personalities.
The website goes on to explain that this year the focus will be on “what it means to be ‘cat friendly’ – respecting each cat’s unique nature and meeting their environmental and social needs, at home, in the veterinary clinic, on the street or in a shelter. ”
Milky Bar wonders why Malteser is sitting on his seat.
Sounds good, and I particularly like the reference in this quote to the unique nature of cats. Milky Bar, Malteser and Caramel clearly demonstrate this: Milky Bar is cautious, self-focussed and keeps his distance from us; Malteser is friendly, playful and calm; and Caramel is boisterous, mischievous and demanding, suffering as he does from a serious dose of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). Between them, the three felines demonstrate perfectly that cats are individuals, each with their own distinct personality and needs. Recognising this is key to ensuring their continued happiness.
Milky Bar chills out.
Although Milky Bar, Malteser and Caramel are not our cats (they live with neighbours further up the road) Mrs P and I will do everything in our power to ensure that they have a great time on International Cat Day. And we’ll do exactly the same the next day. And the day after that too. In my book, every day should be an International Cat Day!
I have written previously about Budge, the cat who spends his days prowling around one of the UK’s finest cathedrals. Built in the Romanesque style, Norwich Cathedral is a magnificent medieval building, so when Mrs P and I – clutching our cameras, of course – made a return visit a few weeks ago, the volunteers on “meet and greet” duty obviously assumed we were there to admire the architecture. They must therefore have been a bit put out by my opening questions, which were “Is Budge here?” and “How’s he doing these days?”
On top of the grand piano, close to the pulpit
Moving swiftly to hide their disappointment at our apparent lack of interest in things architectural or spiritual, the lovely ladies soon regain their composure and update us on the latest news about Budge. We are relieved to learn that the famous feline, who has been a daily visitor at the cathedral since 2018, is indeed prospering. And we’re told he has a new trick – leaping onto the pulpit, and drinking from the priest’s glass of water. Amazing, we say, without believing for a moment that we’ll soon be witnesses to this outrageous behaviour.
Trotting enthusiastically across the cloister
As we wander through the cathedral it doesn’t take us long to spot Budge, trotting enthusiastically across the cloister to greet a bunch of besotted admirers. Budge is a genuine superstar, who even has his own Instagram and X accounts. Lots of visitors to Norwich Cathedral (not just me and Mrs P!) actively seek him out, and like all good superstars he’s never too shy to put on a show.
Revelling in the attention of his besotted fans
After a while however, Budge decides that enough is enough and heads up an unimpressively modern staircase to find himself a bit of seclusion. Even superstars need down time, when they can relax and recharge their batteries before meeting up with their adoring fans once more! We therefore assume we’ve seen the last of him, and head off to the main body of the cathedral so Mrs P can take a few photos.
Taking his leave…time for a rest
And so it is that Mrs P is clicking away happily, wrapped up in her photography, when she lets out a little squeal. She’s spotted Budge, who’s sitting on the pulpit and casually watching the comings and goings of a busy cathedral at the height of the tourist season.
The view’s great from up here
As we watch him we spot a glass of water on a wooden ledge a short distance beneath the top of the pulpit. We’re not the only people who spot him. Pretty soon a small crowd has gathered, keeping a respectful distance while waiting patiently to see what happens next. Having reassured himself that he has the full attention of his audience Budge crouches down, reaches out and dips his paw into the priest’s glass of water, then brings the soggy paw back up to his mouth and starts licking it dry.
Caught in the act. Budge dips his paw into the priest’s water glass, and proceeds to quench his thirst.
Ten seconds later he repeats the process, and then again and again until his thirst is fully quenched. It’s clearly something he’s accustomed to doing regularly. Hopefully the priest is also wise to Budge’s outrageous behaviour and changes the water before delivering his sermon.
Even superstars need a good scratch from time to time!
Having drunk his fill, Budge leaps down from the pulpit and moves away to a nearby grand piano, where he has a good scratch (we all need one from time to time, don’t we?) before settling down to snooze. It’s such a tiring life being a feline superstar. What a cat!
Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P took this photo of a Scottish Clydesdale horse on the Ford and Etal estate in Northumberland in 2024.
We have recently been travelling, spending nearly three weeks north of the border in Scotland. We had a good time there, visiting old haunts and exploring new ones, but although it’s great to be back home again our return is tinged with anxiety – will the cats forgive us for abandoning them?
Caramel, aka the Ginger Ninja
Regular readers of this blog will know that, although we have no cats of our own, Mrs P and I have a close relationship with several of the local neighbourhood felines. They all lay claim to our garden, though they graciously allow us to use it too, and the most brazen of them – Malteser and Caramel – also enjoy prowling through the house, demanding regular attention, edible treats and loving belly rubs. Our role is simply to attend to their needs, and they are certain to be unhappy that we have recently been neglecting our duties.
We arrive home late afternoon on Tuesday, and I scan the garden hopefully. It’s an overgrown mess – no surprise there, given my lack of enthusiasm or talent for gardening – but it’s also a cat-free zone. Tomorrow, maybe?
Milky Bar, handsome but aloof
But Wednesday comes and goes with minimal feline activity. Milky Bar passes through, eyeing me up as he does, but not bothering to say hi. He’s an aloof cat who rarely greets us these days, but I’d hoped he’d at least acknowledge our return with a few well-directed purrs.
Thursday brings an unexpected visitor, neighbourhood wide-boy Cadbury. Our other feline friends all live together, but Cadbury is a new arrival from the other end of the estate. When he encounters Milky Bar, Malteser or Caramel hackles are raised on both sides, and the air crackles to sounds of mutual hissing and yowling. We wish Cadbury no harm, of course, but our affections lie with his feline opponents, so we shed no tears when he leaves.
Cadbury, the neighbourhood wide-boy
At last, on Friday morning, Caramel arrives. I’m in the kitchen making an early morning cup of tea, and glance through the window to see the ginger ninja – as we sometimes refer to him – peering hopefully into the garden pond. He’s clearly hoping to have a goldfish for breakfast, but the netting I installed years ago frustrates him once again.
Looking up, Caramel spots me watching him. The reaction is immediate. He meows several times, leaps onto the garden seat that sits beneath the kitchen window, and from there onto the window ledge. With his nose pressed up against the glass he stares in at me intently, checking me out. I can read his mind: Is it really you? Really? After all this time?
I cross to the door, and the moment I open up he dashes in, meowing furiously while rubbing himself against my legs. Where have you been? he demands. Abandoning me like that is unforgiveable. However, if you were to give me a large helping of Pawsome Pockets, I just might let you off this time! And with that he hops up onto one of the kitchen chairs, gazes cutely into my eyes and waits to be hand-fed. Mrs P joins us and together we give Caramel the breakfast to end all breakfasts.
When he’s done feeding our feline pal exits the kitchen, runs upstairs and stretches out on the comfy sofa in our library room. I sit next to him, and spend the next 30 minutes cradling his head, massaging his ears and rubbing his belly. Caramel purrs loudly, eyes closed, ecstasy oozing out of him. It’s just like the old days, before the trip to Scotland. Plainly, we’re forgiven.
Malteser in heaven
Malteser, however, waits until Saturday to dispense forgiveness. I spot him in the garden, sitting on the fence and peering disconsolately into the house. As soon as he sees me he perks up. I open the door to let him in and greets me with a friendly meow. I reach for the packet of Pawsome Pockets and he begins to purr loudly, clearly delighted that normal service has been resumed after a gap of three weeks. When he’s done eating he presents his belly and I rub it tenderly, and then do the same to his ears. He’s in heaven, and Mrs P and I are officially forgiven.
In all, it has taken nearly four days to rebuild the relationship with all our visiting cats. The bad news for them is that we’ve got a busy summer ahead, and will be going away several more times. With luck they will take pity on us, and we will quickly be forgiven for abandoning them again and again. Hopefully…
I have written previously about Caramel, one of several neighbourhood cats who claim ownership of our garden. At that time he was still a little cautious, happy to take edible treats thrown towards him in the garden and pleased to have his ears fondled, but otherwise reluctant to get up close and personal with us. I’m delighted to report that our relationship has developed in recent months, and he is now a regular house guest at Platypus Towers.
Mrs P and I generally wake up shortly after 6am, and by 6:30 our need for the first cup of tea of the day is overwhelming. I make my way downstairs, flick on the kettle and make the necessary preparations. And then I glance through the kitchen window into the garden where, almost always, Caramel is waiting, peering up at me with a look that says “get your priorities right, man. Tea can wait but I can’t, so let me in NOW“.
I do my duty, and then call upstairs to advise Mrs P that her services are required. Caramel dashes into the house as soon as I open the door, meowing squeakily as he passes me, and leaps immediately onto one of the kitchen chairs. I grab a packet of Pawsome Pockets – “crunchy pillow treats with a soft centre” – and pass them to Mrs P, who is now sitting on the other kitchen chair directly opposite the ravenous feline. Her job is to feed him by hand, pillow by pillow. Caramel has no manners and gulps the treats down greedily, purring loudly in appreciation of his ill-gotten breakfast.
Eventually Mrs P decides that enough is enough, and explains this to her furry friend. He’s not pleased, but knows that his morning fun has only just begun. Jumping down from the chair he sprints into the hallway, then thunders upstairs towards the room that we call The Library.
I follow dutifully, grabbing Caramel’s ball on the way. It is about the size of a tennis ball, but soft and squishy. I throw it against the far wall of The Library, and Caramel chases madly after it. Having captured his quarry he does a flamboyant victory roll, flashing his undercarriage for all to see. I lower myself onto the floor next to him, ignoring the protests of my ageing knees, and rub his belly. Caramel is in ecstasy, and lets rip with purring so loud as to be totally out of place in any self-respecting library. But he’s not bothered, and keeps up the purring for as long as I keep up the rubbing.
Finally, he decides the floor is no place for a cat of his pedigree, so he gets to his feet and jumps up onto the sofa that is tucked into one corner of the room. I sit down next to him, and set about massaging his belly, his ears, his chin and his ego. This goes on for maybe 15 minutes before I decide that I really do need my breakfast. I tell Caramel he can wait for me, but he doesn’t like to be left alone as he suffers from a severe case of FOMO – Fear Of Missing Out! I head downstairs and he follows me back into the kitchen, where I dispense a few more Pawsome Pockets before persuading him that he really should nip back home and spend a few minutes with the people who believe they own him.
We’re sad to see him go, but the chances are he’ll be back again once or twice more during the course of the day. And if not, we know that we’re in for a repeat performance tomorrow morning. And the morning after that. And the one after that too…you know how it is with cats, when they recognise they’ve won!
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Postscript – update on Malteser and Milky Bar
Malteser loves Pawsome Pockets, particularly if we hand-feed him
Regular readers of this blog will know that Caramel shares a house with two feline companions, known to us as Malteser and Milky Bar. I am pleased to report that they too are still doing well. Malteser visits most days, and also enjoys Pawsome Pockets and belly rubs. Sometimes he and Caramel come indoors together and Mrs P has to feed them both by hand, one treat for Malteser, then one for Caramel, then one for Malteser followed immediately by one for Caramel. And so on…
Milky Bar living his best life!
Milky Bar is more restrained, and never crosses the threshold into our house. He does, however, enjoy sunning himself in the garden and drinking from the watering can. He, Caramel and Malteser are wonderful characters, and their visits are amongst the highlights of our daily lives. Long may it continue!
Milky Bar* and Malteser*, two cats who live locally and claim ownership of our garden, have competition. There’s a new kid on the the block. Caramel has arrived on the scene, oozing cheeky charm and kittenish cuteness. He first appeared just before Christmas, watchful, tentative, a stranger in a strange land, hoping for the best but plainly fearing the worst.
Since the start of the New Year he’s been coming more often, and is gaining in confidence. Our garden is a bit chaotic (I lack both talent and enthusiasm in the gardening department!) so there’s plenty for him to investigate, plenty of adventures to be had. Transfixed, we’ve watched the intrepid explorer through the window, anxious to do nothing that might alarm him.
Everything’s a game to Caramel. He’ll be strolling nonchalantly through the garden and then suddenly go crazy, stalking inanimate objects, pouncing on windblown leaves and swatting invisible insects. One time, for no obvious reason, he attacked the withered stem of a pondside plant. After grappling with it for a while he succeeded in breaking the stem free. Then he daintily picked it up between his teeth and proudly walked off in the direction of his own house, clearly keen to present this hard-won trophy to his bemused owners.
We probably shouldn’t do it, but we’re in the habit of treating Milky Bar and Malteser to snacks when they visit. Milky Bar is quite a fussy eater these days, but will happily down a couple of mouthfuls of freshly cooked chicken. Malteser, on the other hand, has no such reservations, and is hopelessly in love with Pawsome Pockets, “chicken, turkey and duck crunchy pillow treats with a soft centre.”
Caramel is also developing a taste for Pawsome Pockets. The first time I opened the door to throw some out to him his instinct was to run. Good! Some people do unspeakably cruel things to cats, and it’s important that he works out who he can trust. But he soon decided that I’m one of the good guys, and was keen to investigate the little treats I tossed in his direction. Sniff, sniff, sniff! Crunch! Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch! And then stared at me with his mad kitten eyes and gave me THAT LOOK, the look that says “Keep ’em coming, I’m a growing kitten don’t you know!“ So I kept on tossing them out, and Caramel carried on wolfing them down.
Last week there was a major breakthrough in our relationship. With a bit of encouragement Caramel plucked up the courage to approach me and stand at my feet. I knelt down and offered to hand-feed him his daily dose of Pawsome Pockets. He snatched them from me and gulped them down, hardly bothering to chew at all. And then he approached even closer, clearly inviting me to stroke his back and fondle his ears. I did my duty, and the little ginger guy looked suitably pleased with himself, almost as pleased as me!
Milky Bar is doing his best to ignore the irritating teenager
Already I can see Caramel is growing up. Soon he’ll be putting his kittenish ways behind him, but his prospects for the future look good. Milky Bar* and Malteser* will look after him – we think they all live in the same household. He appears at ease in their company, and they tolerate him in the way that adult humans put up with irritating but basically likeable teenagers. And when he needs to fill his belly with Pawsome Pockets or have his ears fondled, he knows just where to come!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
*The Milky Bar and Malteser story
Milky Bar and Malteser have featured many times in this blog. You can read about Milky Bar here, here and here. Malteser’s story is told here, here and here. Just click on the links to find out more about this fantastic feline pair.
There’s trouble brewing in our back garden. Right now it’s under control, a Mexican standoff in which the participants watch one another warily, plotting and planning their next moves. But any time soon the uneasy peace could descend into open warfare. And if that happens, the fur could really start to fly.
Regular readers of this blog will know that ownership of our garden is claimed by two local cats. Milky Bar and Malteser love to hang out here, to snooze, to play, to hunt insects and to do a bit of casual birdwatching. We think they must live in the same household because, while they are clearly not close friends, they are tolerant of one another’s presence. That, however, is where their generosity of spirit ends. No other cat is welcome in our garden.
Over the years a few others tried to muscle in. Flake, Titan, Toblerone, Mars Bar, Minstrel and Yorkie have all passed through, but none has stayed for long. Milky Bar and Malteser have seen to that, and have remained unchallenged here for ages.
But that could be about to change. A few weeks ago a new cat appeared, walking purposefully along the fence that divides our garden from those of our neighbours. He’s a big bruiser of a ginger tom, a no-nonsense sort of cat who looks to be more than a match for Milky Bar and Malteser.
After checking out the terrain the new arrival – who we called Ginger Nut – leapt down from the fence and inspected the garden in great detail. Luckily our regular feline friends were elsewhere, so a confrontation was avoided. Ginger Nut quickly sniffed out that other cats had been here before him, and communicated his presence by liberally spraying a few bushes. It was like a gold prospector staking a claim, announcing to all and sundry that this is his patch now and he’ll have words with anyone who dares to disagree.
A few hours after Ginger Nut left, Malteser arrived. Cats have a good sense of smell, and he soon detected that his territory had been invaded and, indeed, desecrated. He responded with a spraying frenzy of his own, as if to say anything you can spray, I can spray better / harder / higher! War had been declared.
Since then, Ginger Nut has been back several times. He’s clearly a bit put out by Malteser’s resistance, but hasn’t given up hope that his attempted coup d’état will ultimately be successful. One day he appeared on the fence while Malteser was lazing in the garden. Mrs P and I watched anxiously from the kitchen window while the pair of them sized each other up. A fight seemed inevitable, but on this occasion Ginger Nut backed down.
I’d like to think that this will be the end of it, that Ginger Nut will take his territorial ambitions to another part of our estate. But I have my doubts. He looks like a tough nut, much bigger and bolder than any of the other cats who’ve contemplated staging a coup. I’m worried that one day he’ll attempt to prove his prowess by giving Malteser – and Milky Bar – a thumping. If that happens the outcome is far from predictable, but it’s certain that fur would fly. Let’s hope it never comes to that!
Although its primary focus is on the preservation and display of historic buildings from South-East England, the Weald and Downland Living Museum offers other fascinating insights into the lives of ordinary people in times past. A notable highlight of our visit last October was to be able to watch a team of horses ploughing a field that forms part of the Museum’s land. Only a few decades ago such a sight would have been totally unremarkable anywhere in rural England, but these days draught horses have little if any role in country life beyond their participation in ploughing competitions that hark back nostalgically to the pre-industrial world.
The term “draught” horse is derived from the Old English word dragan, meaning “to haul” or “to draw”. They are also referred to as carthorses, work horses or heavy horses. And these terms, I guess, tells us all we need to know. Back in the day, when heavy loads needed to moved or agricultural land had to be worked, the horse was England’s go-to beast of burden. Even as the Industrial Revolution started to kick in, horses toiled along towpaths hauling canal barges laden with raw materials and manufactured goods.
In these modern times, when internal combustion and diesel engines rule the roost, it’s difficult to imagine a moment when we depended not on them but instead on the humble horse. The Weald and Downland Living Museum’s mission is to celebrate and remind us of the world we have lost, and watching three magnificent horses going about their business did just that.
The Museum’s horses are Percherons, a breed of draught horse that originated in western France. Usually grey or black in colour, Percherons are sturdy animals known for their intelligence and willingness to work. They were originally bred as war horses, but later became sought-after animals for agricultural work and hauling heavy goods. As well as ploughing, the horses we encountered also help out with a number of other seasonal farming tasks. These include sowing, haymaking and harvesting, as well as timber-extraction from the Museum’s woodland.
The Museum’s Percherons seemed content in their work, and the guy leading them clearly cared deeply for their welfare. He was practising for a ploughing competition the next day, and although I’m no expert it seemed from what I saw that he and his horsey team were in with a good shout!
In addition to its draught horses, the Museum has several fine examples of historic horse-drawn vehicles. These include a spectacularly colourful gypsy caravan dating from the late 19th century, and a far more humble “living caravan” which would have been home to labourers who travelled the countryside in search of opportunities for paid work.
Like the rest of the exhibits on display at the Weald and Downland Living Museum, the Percherons and horse-drawn vehicles we saw there offered fascinating insights into a world that is almost beyond comprehension from our comfortable, 21st century perspective. I strongly recommend a visit!
It’s been a tough year. While catching Covid was the worst thing that happened to us personally in 2022, from a national and international perspective it’s been unrelentingly grim. In a year in which the UK lost its queen after 70 years on the throne, political turmoil and financial crisis have stalked the land, the National Health Service is in meltdown, social care is collapsing and many folk can no longer afford to heat their homes or buy enough food to feed their families. Misery rules, OK! And overseas, events in the Ukraine reinforce the sense of instability and imminent jeopardy.
Malteser (aka Pudrow). Here he’s relaxing on the sofa (“HIS” sofa!) which lives in our Library Room
Are we downhearted? Well, to be honest, from time to time I am! But one of the things that has brought me a degree of comfort and solace in the dark times has been the company of cats. Two cats in particular, Milky Bar and his buddy Malteser.
Regular readers of this blog will know that although Mrs P and I have no cat of our own, Milky Bar and Malteser, who live somewhere on our street, regard our garden as part of their territory. And Malteser also lays claim to our house, although he graciously allows us to continue living here so long as we allow him access whenever he feels the need!
Milky Bar (aka EmBee). On the bridge over the pond, struggling to keep his eyes open.
We see Milky Bar most days in summer, but rather less often at this time of year. He’s a beautiful chap, although getting on a bit in years and growing stouter around the tummy. His hobby is snoozing, and he’s pleased to indulge in it at every opportunity. He regularly beds down in a nest he has built for himself under an azalea bush, but when he craves sun rather than shade he stretches out on the little wooden bridge that crosses the narrowest part of our garden pond. Here he can soak up the rays while keeping one eye open to watch out for dragonflies, which he’ll catch and eat if the fancy takes him.
Milky Bar’s favourite hobby is snoozing. He practises regularly!
Milky Bar is an aloof and somewhat cautious cat, but clearly trusts us to respect his personal space. Occasionally he will approach, softly miaowing and offering himself up to be stroked But mostly he keeps his distance, happily observing what is going on all around him. He watches with interest whenever he sees me doing the gardening (or is he in shock? I don’t do much gardening!), and allows me to approach within inches of him without stirring. We enjoy one another’s company, both understanding that there are boundaries between us that must be respected.
Occasionally Milky Bar approaches us, miaowing softly and offering himself up to be stroked. Here, he’s half way through the kitchen door.
Of course there are times when I wish Milky Bar were more affectionate, more gratuitously friendly. But that’s not his style, and his mere presence in the garden is always enough to raise my spirits.
Milky Bar doing what he does best, asleep on the bridge over the pond.
Malteser, however, is altogether more forward. He visits every day, and is normally to be found waiting outside the door when I go downstairs to make an early morning cup of tea at around 6:30am. I open up, and he dashes in. We greet one another in the time-honoured fashion, but pretty soon he gets on with business, sitting himself down in the kitchen and waiting to be fed.
The cat treats we buy are called Pawsome Pockets, “crunchy pillow treats with a soft centre.” Available in beef, chicken and salmon flavours, Pawsome Pockets are evidently very tasty, and Malteser loves them. But his meal is invariably interrupted by Mrs P, who comes downstairs to join us. Malteser breaks off and strides across the kitchen, greeting her with loud purrs and fond nuzzling. Mrs P takes over feeding duties, and the purring gets even louder. Malteser’s in heaven, and Mrs P looks pretty damned happy with life too!
Personal grooming is an activity that Malteser clearly enjoys.
When his breakfast treat is over, Malteser throws himself on to the kitchen floor, rolling on his back and inviting me to rub his belly and fondle his ears. I’m happy to oblige. As soon as I’ve done my duty he dashes upstairs to the Study. We follow, and spend the next 10 minutes entertaining him, playing “chase the ball” or “pounce on the piece of paper.” By this time his purrs are so loud that the windows almost rattle in sympathy.
Malteser loves to play. I spend more time on my hands and knees indulging him than is good for a man of my advanced years!
And then suddenly, and for no obvious reason, he evidently decides that enough is enough. He trots downstairs and waits beside the door to be let out. We are in no doubt that within a few minutes he will be visiting another of our neighbours, demanding attention and treats from them too. He’s that sort of cat.
One of Malteser’s favourite places to sit is on this blue plastic bag, which we left lying in a corner of the Study one day. He’s a somewhat eccentric cat!
Malteser may return two or three time during the day, for treats, belly rubs, playtime and lots of attention. Sometimes he simply uses us as a convenient short cut, entering by the back door then marching immediately through the house to the front door, where he demands to be let out again. And we, being desperate to please him, do just that.
When Malteser gazes up at me like this I’m powerless to resist him!
While he is with us, Malteser brightens up our lives. So thank you, Malteser, and Milky Bar too, for making a difficult year a little less difficult. And come again guys, as often as you like, in 2023: the company of cats will always be welcome here.
Malteser is almost as skilled at snoozing as Milky Bar!
And while we’re on subject of thanks, I’d also like to thank anyone out there who ever reads or comments on this blog. Your continuing interest has certainly helped keep my spirits up throughout this miserable year. How can I ever thank you? I don’t think you’d like Pawsome Pockets, and I guess it would be inappropriate – and maybe a bit creepy – to offer you a belly rub, but it’s my absolute pleasure to wish you a Merry Christmas, and Happy & Healthy New Year. Have a great time, guys!
We spot him first in the monastic cloisters that are attached to the Cathedral, rolling on his back and wantonly flashing his belly at anyone who will look in his direction. I hurry towards him, camera in hand, hoping to capture some cute video action. But he’s in no mood to be filmed and disappears through a doorway into the main body of the Cathedral. Mrs P’s still taking photos of the cloisters, so I wait for her. By the time we’re ready to follow my new feline friend into the main body of the Cathedral, he’s nowhere to be seen.
Norwich Cathedral
Work began on the construction of Norwich Cathedral in 1096 and was completed in 1145. It is a magnificent building, regarded – its guidebook informs me – as one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Europe. The monastic cloisters are the second largest in England, exceeded only by those at Salisbury Cathedral. Its cathedral close – that is, the area immediately around a cathedral comprising various properties that belong to it – is England’s largest.
Clerics and other Cathedral officers are housed or work in Norwich Cathedral’s close. And, as we are soon to learn, the close is also home to a cat who is famous the world over.
“Budge” the cathedral cat
Leaving the cloisters behind us, our minds are blown away as we enter the main body of the Cathedral. Stunning! Spectacular! Awe inspiring! The superlatives keep on coming, and we join other visitors in cricking our necks to admire the soaring roof. And yet, as we look around us, we see other visitors focussed on matters that are more grounded: the cat I spotted earlier in the cloisters is now sitting next to the pulpit, and has gathered a bevy of doting admirers.
Standing close by the cat is a member of Cathedral staff. Or maybe a volunteer, I’m not quite sure, but she clearly has an official role in this magnificent place. And she wears a slightly weary expression. I sense she’d rather be talking to us about the glory of God and the breath-taking building He has inspired. But instead she’s filling us in on the life and times of the Cathedral cat.
His name, we learn, is Budge, and he’s around five years old. He lives in one of the houses on the close, but spends most of his days in the Cathedral where he has become a bit of a celebrity. Budge has been known to gate-crash Cathedral events and make his presence known during morning prayers. He is popular with visitors, and the Dean is reported as saying that he brings comfort to those in torment:
“Sometimes people who come in are distressed, and we often find Budge sitting with them. I think some find him very therapeutic. Budge seems to bring people a lot of pleasure, and he is a very positive presence.”
Very Reverend Jane Hedges, Dean of Norwich Cathedral, quoted in this article on the BBC website, 25/12/2021
But like most cats his favourite hobby is snoozing, and it seems that there is nowhere in the Cathedral – including the altar – where he has not on occasion lain his sleepy head. A cat with a rare sense of style and a large helping of chutzpah, one Christmas he was even found sleeping in baby Jesus’s crib in the Nativity scene!
Having heard and enjoyed Budge’s story we bid him a fond farewell and continue our journey around Norwich Cathedral. Half an hour later we meet up with him again. He’s removed himself from his position by the pulpit, and is now curled up on a plush cushion that someone has thoughtfully placed on top of one of the choir stalls. He’s sleeping peacefully, seemingly unaware of his many admirers taking photos and selfies.
There’s no doubt about it – Budge is a superstar. Enter “Norwich cathedral cat” in the Google search box and the return is a massive 1.3 million hits! Like all superstars he has his own Twitter feed, and currently boasts 4,630 followers. At the top of his feed is this quote, which seems an appropriate tribute to a much-loved cat who spends most of his life in a Cathedral:
For I am possessed of a cat, surpassing in beauty, from whom I take occasion to bless Almighty God
Excerpt from Jubilate Agno, by Christopher Smart
Christmas card on sale from Norwich Cathedral shop, 2022
Budge’s superstar status is confirmed by the fact that the Cathedral shop sells Christmas cards featuring him. The illustration shows him in front of a large Christmas tree, stretched out on a heating vent that is pumping warmth into the Cathedral. This is, reputedly, one of his favourite spots for a quick nap! Although it’s a bit depressing to find Christmas cards on sale nearly four months before the big day, it’s great to see the affection in which Budge is held and to know that he’s doing his bit to raise funds for the maintenance of his magnificent second home.
St Julian, her calling and her cat
Although he’s the undoubted star of the show, Budge isn’t the only cat to be seen at Norwich Cathedral. One of its stained-glass windows is dedicated to St Julian of Norwich, and in the bottom left-hand corner is the image of a cat.
The remarkable woman featured in the window was born in Norwich in 1342. The name with which she was baptised is lost to history. In 1373 she contracted the plague and experienced several mystical visions as she fought her terrible illness. After a miraculous recovery she determined to devote the rest of her life to God, becoming an anchoress (hermit) at the church of St Julian in Norwich and adopting Julian as her name.
Julian, sometimes also known today as Juliana of Norwich, Dame Julian or Mother Julian, spent all her days and nights in a small cell measuring just over 9 square metres (100 square feet). The cell had a window into the church which allowed her to receive holy communion during Mass, and a window to the street to enable her to give guidance and spiritual support to anyone requesting it. There was also a small window through which a maidservant could pass her food and drink.
Although hers was a holy existence it must also have been very lonely, and Julian is believed to have developed a close relationship with the cat that she was allowed to keep in her cell to control rats and mice. It is this relationship that is referenced in the stained glass.
Julian was controversially ahead of her time in describing God as both mother and father, and in calling Jesus our “true Mother” from whom we receive our beginning, our true being, protection and love.
One of her core messages was “All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” It’s an idea that we may all wish to cling to in these, the most turbulent of times.
Julian’s writings, the Revelations of Divine Love, are the earliest surviving works in the English language written by a woman. You can learn a little more about her by watching this short video that I tracked down on YouTube.
The video makes no mention of Julian’s relationship with her cat, understandably perhaps as this may be thought to trivialise a significant, holy life. Personally, however, I’m drawn to the idea that such an exceptional, mystical woman could develop a tender, caring relationship with a simple, furry hunter of rats and mice. In some circles Saint Julian is unofficially known as the patron saint of cats. I’m certain Budge would approve!
Now I'm 64 