Notes from a parish cat and his author Julie Mackenzie

My photo
I am Father Tom Fish, esteemed member of the religious team at Temptation of Christ Parish in the novels by author Julie Mackenzie. As to my background, I was invited into the rectory as a stray, laid on the charm, and was invited to stay, even honorarily ordained and no less spiritual than my sidekick Father Will. He dotes on me to high heaven and forgives all of my street cat proclivities, whatever the hell that means.

Monday, February 26, 2018

Heaven, An Escape and An Appetizer

Hello, boys and girls!!

The subject came up over the weekend about how much we sleep. We cats have a free ticket to enter the Land of Nod any time we feel like it. See a cat with insomnia, never. Ever think about that?

Here I am sweetly dreaming. I must say the housekeeper took a pretty good pic of me, showing my ear tufts at their best.

I looked up some quotes about sleep and was amazed at the variety of thoughts on it:

"Sleep is one of the most innocent creatures there is and a sleepless man the most guilty."
                                                                                    ~~Franz Kafka
(didn't he wake up as a bug?)'s another:

"I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake." ~~Ernest Hemingway

(Ernest, we're happy you didn't sleep too much!)

and finally, I really like this one, very inspirational, hehe:

"She used to say she could taste sleep and that it was as delicious as a BLT on fresh French bread."
                                                                                  ~~Rebecca Wells

Okay, that's enough. Time to get some grub!!
Have a good day, all!

Your obedient servant and snoozer,

Monday, February 19, 2018

Fuss and Feathers and Fruit

Oh, lord - he's still here.

Would you believe the housekeeper came by over the weekend just to make sure the priests didn't eat him? She's never here. It's the only time I find peace which was totally wrecked because of this stupid thing.

She calls it a catberry because of the ears. I call it a wuss. Cute, but still a wuss. Because of her showing up on the scene over the weekend, I found myself mostly in Will's bedroom on my windowseat. All that chattering downstairs. You wouldn't believe it. 

I already have plans for our little friend should I get my paws on him. I will decimate his seeds, wipe that smug look off his face and eat him, yum, yum, yummm....

Wait a minute! Here's a thought: Why don't I just get him and bat him under the refrigerator? Or, someplace else dark? Then he'll just disappear and nobody'll know where. He'll rot in the dust, ancient crumbs and spilled catnip. I'll have to decide. This is going to be tough.

Meanwhile, I have to face the continuing saga of the catberry, a showoff who is stealing my thunder.

Hark! What now? A photo shoot? Are you kidding me??

Let's change the subject.
Spring is in the air. Or, so they say. If it is, I sure can't see it.
I know I'm being grumpy. Thanks, friends for letting me vent.

Your soon-to-be vegetarian and always holy man,

Monday, February 12, 2018

The Mouse Gets the Message

What a Sunday I had yesterday!

The rectory was quiet, nobody around with all the activity being mostly with the priests meeting parishioners after Mass. I ducked out early. I'm sure the mouse thought I wasn't around, either.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

I heard him in the kitchen and after a little bit of patience and maneuvering, I caught him. Wow! I haven't lost my touch!

As I sat with him lying in front of me, I apologized:

Little mouse, I gave you your last rites, so you should be okay. I am a cat, after all, but I do feel badly, even though you should know any house with a cat is a danger zone.

I hope the other mice contemplating meeting me or hanging out in the kitchen for crumbs from the housekeeper's cooking will think twice.

So, for this Mancat Monday, I really proved myself! I became a mouser once again!

PS - Afterwards, I did go to my dish for my leftover breakfast of fish. Between you and me, mouse doesn't taste nearly as good.

Holy and huntingly yours,

Monday, February 5, 2018

Battle Wounds

What could be more appropriate on a day that is dedicated to our catmanliness??

Recently I was engaged in a Viking battle that we won, by the way. But, before I get into that, I have some spainin' to do:

Cats have nine lives. For me that means I have some parallel lives. I know, I thought this was bogus, too, but it explains my infrequent exploits and the traces they leave behind.

For instance, I, Father Tom Fishworthy, in an alternate universe recently was invincible Viking General Fishgar the Horrible, ruthless with man and mouse.

Here I am in my helmet. Do you like my horns?

Very proud in my full battle regalia depicted on my victory poster. I have a hankie from the Lady Fishgar tucked into my armor next to my heart.

 A leader should always be on the battlefield with his men. It's great for ESPRIT DE CLAW...!

Well, I was so caught up in everything that I didn't notice I had an injury. Alas!! A sword point down my nose, drawing blood!

And it has remained! Even though I have returned from my journey it is there for all the world to see!

The housekeeper was bereft and has gone about clucking and putting on some healing salve.

In true mancat fashion, I am enduring all the attention.

I'm hoping for at least a scar.

~All for now until my next adventure,

I am your faithful servant and courageous mancat,