Judith, Mog and a Tiger

Reader, sadly we have to report the passing away of a famous and wonderful writer & Illustrator, Judith Kerr, who has died at the age of 95.

Judith created the popular children’s character Mog, the foolish and forgetful but well-meaning mottled and striped tabby cat.

Judith was also the author of the bestselling The Tiger Who Came to Tea in 1968.

British author and illustrator Judith Kerr OBE, photographed at her home in London in 2011. Rest In Peace Judith

Photograph: © Times Newspapers Ltd.
Mog
Mog The Cat

Judith Kerr drew on real life in her writing. She began the Mog series with ‘Mog The Forgetful Cat’ (1970) and went on to write 16 books in total. She drew on the developing personalities of her own young family for inspiration.

Just some of the Mog books.

Mog the Cat

Once there was a cat called Mog.

She lived with a family called Thomas.

Mog was nice but not very clever.

She didn’t understand a lot of things.

A lot of other things she forgot.

She was a very forgetful cat.

Maya finds a home

The story goes that Maya the Cat was found behind a Chinese food restaurant and then taken to an animal shelter to be put down.
The reason being that Maya doesn’t look like other cats and it was thought she would never find a real home and never be adopted by anyone.

Maya has a chromosomal abnormality that has caused her features to have been changed so she can look strange to those who are used to seeing cats in a particular way.

Cat of the Month ~ May 2018

Maya enjoying a soft rug
Photograph: © @meetmayacat

The good news is that with the help of an organisatiopn called ‘The Odd Cat Sanctuary’ Maya was not only saved from being euthanized but was eventually found a permanant home too.

Lauren showing Maya for the camera
Photograph: © @meetmayacat

Lauren and Harrison have now given Maya a new home. When questioned in a media interview Lauren said “Maya is pretty tiny (8 lbs tops), but she’s got huge feet and whiskers.”

“Maya’s just like any cat,” says Harrison. “She’s of smaller stature, and some think she will be more kitten-like forever. She has slight vision issues (she is cross-eyed, after all), and due to her nasal structure, she tends to get stuffy a lot. It’s actually adorable. Every time she gets out-of-breath, she sneezes like 15 times in a row.”

The Odd Cat Sanctuary Website home page
Photograph: © theoddcatsanctuary.com

See all the cats currently listed on the Odd Cat Sanctuary website.


So best wishes to Maya (Lauren & Harrison) and may the great work of ‘The Odd Cat Sanctuary continue.

The King O’ The Cats

The King o’ the Cats is a folk tale from the British Isles. The earliest known example is found in Beware the Cat, written by William Baldwin in 1553, though this story itself is
related to the first century story of “The Death of Pan”.

Other notable versions of this cat tale include one in a letter written by Thomas Lyttelton first published in 1782.

M. G. (Monk) Lewis the English novelist and dramatist, told the story to Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1816, and a further version was adapted by Joseph Jacobs, the Australian folklorist and writer, from several sources, including one collected by Charlotte S. Burne (the first woman president of the Folklore Society).

Walter Scott reported that ‘the King O’ The Cats’ was a well known nursery tale in the Scottish Highlands in the eighteenth century. It can be categorised as a “death of an elf (or cat)”. It is a common type of tale you can look up on the webpage Aarne-Thompson-Uther Classification of Folk Tales

“Well Osc I never knew that an “elf” was a cat! …. mind you you’re a bit of an impish elf yourself on occasion”

On to the story…I suggest you turn down the lights…and turn off all distractions … :- )

The King O’ The Cats

One winter’s evening the sexton’s wife was sitting by the fireside with her big black cat, Old Tom, on the other side, both half asleep and waiting for the master to come home.

They waited and they waited, but still he didn’t come, till at last he came rushing in, calling out, ‘Who’s Tommy Tildrum?’ in such a wild way that both his wife and his cat stared at him to know what was the matter.

‘Why, what’s the matter?’ said his wife, ‘and why do you want to know who Tommy Tildrum is?’

‘Oh, I’ve had such an adventure. I was digging away at old Mr Fordyce’s grave when I suppose I must have dropped asleep, and only woke up by hearing a cat’s Miaou.’

‘Miaou!’ said Old Tom in answer.

‘Yes, just like that! So I looked over the edge of the grave, and what do you think I saw?’

‘Now, how can I tell?’ said the sexton’s wife.

‘Why, nine black cats all like our friend Tom here, all with a white spot on their chestesses. And what do you think they were carrying? Why, a small coffin covered with a black velvet pall, and on the pall was a small coronet all of gold, and at every third step they took they cried all together, Miaou — ‘

‘Miaou!’ said Old Tom again.

‘Yes, just like that!’ said the sexton; ‘and as they came nearer and nearer to me I could see them more distinctly; because their eyes shone out with a sort of green light. Well, they all came towards me, eight of them carrying the coffin, and the biggest cat of all walking in front for all the world like — but look at our Tom, how he’s looking at me. You’d think he knew all I was saying.’

‘Go on, go on,’ said his wife; ‘never mind Old Tom.’

‘Well, as I was a-saying, they came towards me slowly and solemnly, and at every third step crying all together, Miaou –‘

‘Miaou!’ said Old Tom again.

‘Yes, just like that, till they came and stood right opposite Mr Fordyce’s grave, where I was, when they all stood still and looked straight at me. I did feel queer, that I did! But look at Old Tom; he’s looking at me just like they did.’

‘Go on, go on,’ said his wife; ‘never mind Old Tom.’

‘Where was I? Oh, they stood still looking at me, when the one that wasn’t carrying the coffin came forward and, staring straight at me, said to me — yes, I tell ‘ee, said to me, with a squeaky voice, “Tell Tom Tildrum that Tim Toidrum’s dead,” and that’s why I asked you if you knew who Tom Tildrum was, for how can I tell Tom Tildrum Tim Toldrum’s dead if I don’t know who Tom Tildrum is?’

‘Look at Old Tom, look at Old Tom!’ screamed his wife.

And well he might look, for Tom was swelling and Tom was staring, and at last Tom shrieked out, ‘What — old Tom dead! then I’m the King o’ the Cats!’ and rushed up the chimney and was nevermore seen.

trad.