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The Dead Zone…

I’ve always thought of the time between Christmas and New Year as a kinda dead-zone when nowt happens. You know Soviet physicists called black holes “frozen stars”? That if you know a bit of Relativity (I do) is a pretty good description because of what happens at the event horizon is radial distance rather than time becomes the “driven” co-ordinate. What happens inside a naked singularity is beyond mere physics – it’s the “Woo-Woo stuff”. I have seen a naked singularity but that was in a bar in Florida and I really don’t want to talk about it. I have seen many things… Some like sunrise over the caldera of Santorini I shall never forget. Others I wish I could. Anyway, I was watching MTV’s “Greatest Hits of the ’90s” with a small ale whilst my wife slept and His Royal Felix luxuriated His Profound Majesty and luxuriatiated in front of the halogen “fire”. Here he is. I took the photo. If this doesn’t say “louche” to everyone then I pity the fool who thinks otherwise.


Happy New Year!


  1. Lynne says:

    In Ruby Ramjet lingo (she hurtles around the garden like she has a Lightning at full throttle up her backside) that is what’s known as “tarting out”. It is usually accompanied by a toothy gravity grin.

  2. RAB says:

    The Bonkers dog does that as well, but she is a complete tart! And she purrs too… what’s going on?

  3. Philip Scott Thomas says:

    Ah, so that’s what Timmy looks like.

    You’ve no idea how much that makes me miss my old girl, Penny, a seal point Siamese.

  4. Julie near Chicago says:

    RAB, oddly enough The Luce also does it! But I have to admit she doesn’t purr…. When she does it it’s often because we are in bed together (no no no, at 84-going-on-85 she’s a bit too old for me) –I say, it’s often because she wants her tummy scratched. And no skimping around the edges, either.

    Nick, you Brits are SO self-conscious…and a bit too tightly constricted, if you see what I mean. Whereas His Most Excellent Royal Felixness is merely comporting himself with the attitude proper to any Oriental Pasha, which is, “I yam what I yam and the hell with what any silly Commoners think!”

    Besides, I think he’s adorable. :)

  5. John Galt says:

    Remember the old adage of those providing food and shelter to felines…

    “Dogs have owners, cats have staff”.

  6. Philip Scott Thomas says:

    @John Galt

    Quite so.

    I’d love to have a seal-point Siamese again. But being a gay man I am disinclined to revert to the stereotype.

  7. NickM says:

    He is a very happy kitty, Julie. Indeed almost jellical. And PST can quit this theatrical gayness already – the only reason I – who like girls – don’t have a Persian is Timmy would have kittens (which seeing as he is a neutered male would make some form of veterinary history). But of a Siamese PST? Awkward sods aren’t they? Give me a Persian or indeed a moggie anyday… Timmy is a moggie. He is a cat that just happened. He is my wife’s gran’s cat and she got Alzheimer’s so we got Timmy. He is a lovely thing – though not to be trusted around small birds or mammals for he kills ’em.

  8. JuliaM says:

    “But of a Siamese PST? Awkward sods aren’t they? “

    Yes. Especially the lilac points! :)

  9. Philip Scott Thomas says:

    Siamese are the greatest cats in the history of cat-ownerdom. That’s especially true if you can get a litter’s runt – the shape is often extraordinary (and they’re often especially prone to liking cuddles). Yeah, they can be a bit mouthy, but that can be trained out of them.

    My Penny, a chocolate point Siamese, used to play not only fetch, but hide and seek as well. She always won the latter.

  10. Julie near Chicago says:

    Now boys (Philip and Nick), I must bridge the difference between you. For my own Dear Departed Kitty, Hecate by name, was half-sealpoint, half Persian. (I tend to think of the cat of an Evil Man inhabiting a well-appointed place in the depths of the Swiss Alps…I wonder if she was any relation?)

    Alas, the Old Nick (or something!) got into the beauteous Hecate, for in due course we discovered that she had allowed tom-fool cat to play hide-the-sausage with her. Strange, as we inhabited an apartment…. The results came nearly of age, and then, mirabile dictu! our cat population suddenly more than doubled! Well, I can tell YOU, seven cats and a husband with severe asthma just wasn’t working out. Much as we enjoyed our kitties…I voted we keep the husband, he concurred, so on a vote of 2-7 we gave up the cats.

    Philip–my own Penny was our much-loved dog, allegedly part beagle and part terrier. 25 lb. of tan-and-white sweetness. She misbehaved once–at under 9 months–the vet assured us it was a false pregnancy. So we didn’t worry, but…one day I called her, and it took a minute but she came, with what sure looked like a puppy half-in and half-out. There was another False Puppy before she was done. It was the evil Black Lab next door, I know it was! Did I hear him offering child support? I think NOT! No sense of responsibility at all. His grandma did give me her recipe for peanut-butter fudge bars, though. :)

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