In Physics there is a symbol called "plus minus" (not anything greek or nothing) that looks like this:
When I was doing my degree I would use it daily - or maybe even hourly. In later life maybe not so much but probably still a few times a month. It is very handy to indicate a margin of error or, in other words, how wild an estimate you are making. In some ways it isn't suitable for this post because my Mum did definitely lose her cat this week.
Poor little Artemis (Arty for short) developed a flea allergy about two years ago and had to go onto steroids. The weight gain they caused may have robbed her of her svelt figure but she was still a champion hunter and was leaving impressively large entrails on my Mum's doorstep right up until a few days before she died. She used to love sleeping with her paw over her nose.
And she had terrible balance and could only get down out of trees if someone stood underneath and caught her.
On my farewell visit before coming to America I spent a lot of time with her on my lap with her doing this kind of inward snore, outward purr breathing while I stroked her soft fur. I'm really glad I did that.
The morning I got my Mum's email was the same morning I had booked my first visit to the
Cat Town Cafe in Oakland. Oakland is where you end up if you follow the the Bay Bridge (not the Golden Gate one) out of San Francisco. Traditionally it has had a fairly rough reputation with lots of race violence and shootings but parts of it are now Shoreditch-esque in there inclusion of vegan coffee and bicycle shops. It is not like the previous cat cafes I had visited as all the cats there are up for adoption so some are only at the cafe a matter of days before they go to a new home. The cafe has rehoused more than 135 cats since October last year which is pretty phenomenal and one was being fostered while I was there.
The whole place is very clean and light with lots of places for the cats to sit or play. All the cat furniture represents aspects of Oakland or San Francisco.
This *beautiful* one was sleeping at the top of the Tribune Building.
While in another "Quiet Area" (max two people at a time and no toys) there was a little house.
Underneath this was a very quiet area where the cats could go if they were nervous. The ginger boy below had just got back from a patrol of the main room but the long-haired back one, called Mason (should have been 'Mow-son') was quite jumpy.
He loved being stroked though and completely stole my heart. Having just lost Arty and knowing that Mason didn't have a home with people who loved him made me pretty emotional. It was hard to say goodbye. I have mentioned him to Pooch but until we have sorted out some proper housing it's not really viable. Not really. Certainly not ideal. Probably not for the best. Not for the best. For the best. The best. The best thing that could ever happen.
Poor little Arty. She was a rescue cat herself. She was such a quirky little thing but so adorable.
