Whiskertips’ Return, 2017: Unashamedly Catcentric

When I opened Whiskertips, I intended to write about “Books, Cats, and Life in General.” Before long, however, the blog became catcentric, so I created a second blog, Telling the Truth, Mainly,” and left Whiskertips to float in cyberspace for the pleasure (I hoped) of any reader who happened to drop in.

Now I find Telling the Truth, Mainly, where I planned to write about writing and life in general, is following in Whiskertips’ steps, becoming catty.

Today it came to me: What’s wrong with a catcentric blog? That’s life, too. My friends describe me as “the woman whose slacks are covered with cat hair.”

So in honor of all my cats, past and present, I’m reopening Whiskertips. I begin by reintroducing my feline family.

I have no pictures of Tinker, Miss Kitty, Ten-Thirty, Wimple, Ashley, Mr. Peyton, and Christabel, but here are pictures of immediate past and current CEOs.

Chloe, ca. 2005

 

Alice B Toeclaws, ca. 2005

 

William, ca. 2012

 

Ernest, ca. 2012
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The cats of April

Today Ernest and William display their respective attitudes toward photography. Ernest stares wide-eyed. William squints.

I don’t know whether William finds the flash unpleasant or whether he wants to project a macho image, but whatever the reason, in most of his shots he comes out looking fierce, disgusted, or bored. Nothing could be further from reality. His usual expression smacks of deceptive innocence. I think this pose makes him look  like an owl.

Ernest, on the other hand, loves the camera. He keeps his baby greens wide open. Today’s shot catches him resting his head in David’s hand. If Ernest had his way, he would spend his life in that position.

I titled this blog Whiskertips in honor of William and Ernest’s immediate predecessors, Christabel, Chloe, and Alice B Toeclaws, who were for many years our dear companions. I didn’t, however, intend to write solely about cats. Under most circumstances, I would leave a decent interval between cat posts.

Last night, however, I had distressing news. My laptop’s hard drive is on the way out. It is corrupt. Actually, a file has been corrupted, but the other way sounds better.

When the external hard drive, which I should have had two years ago, arrives, and files are properly backed up, a technician will come to my house and install a new hard drive. I shall then send the corrupt drive to the manufacturer and go on my merry way.

Until then, I shall sit in this amazingly uncomfortable chair (a relic of the service station my grandfather, my father, my great-uncle, and various others operated between 1915 and 1970) and work at the desktop. Fortunately, I  e-mailed myself a draft of my WIP before corruption became evident. (I also saved it to a thumb drive. I may be crazy, but I’m not completely witless.)

That’s what I really wanted to write about today. But if I’d announced my misfortune in the first paragraph, it might have seemed like whining. So I started with cats, always an attention-getter, and then segued into unpleasantness. That’s how it’s done. One of my high school seniors phrased it best: “When you’re writing an essay, always start with something that has nothing to do with what you’re writing about.”

Having said what I have to say, I note that this post is about neither cats nor hard drives, but about writing.

It’s amazing how some of these posts meander. If I had time, there’s no telling where we’d end up.

But I’ve spent as much time in this chair as my body can stand. And I still have to deal with the WIP.

And Ernest has just made a nest in a pile of towels still warm from the dryer.

Here we are, back to cats.

Thus are the unities preserved.