Tag Archives: cat

166. Grey (colour 11)

SAMSUNG DIGITAL CAMERA

Grey can seem to some like a boring colour. We say a day is grey when it is overcast and the weather feels heavy and dull. But for me, it is the colour of storms, of change coming, and of the soft, velvet fur of a Persian cat. Rumbling of thunder, thunderous purring, rolling clouds, undulating feline fluffball. Both hold potential, of rain and affection, both might give instead, a fearsome show of growls accompanied by static electricity.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

 

Advertisements

122. Kasbah (Humour 9)

kasbah

This product from a CATalogue never fails to make us laugh. As though a cat has the faintest notion of what the Moroccan Kasbah might be, or would want to be reminded of it even if it did! Pure comedy genius and for me, a perfect illustration of how ludicrous marketing to the middle classes can be! If keeping up with the Joneses has expanded to include cat beds, we are definitely in trouble. Class distinctions and things that overstretch the mark are certainly things to look out for when searching to find the humour in life.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

117. No More Photos! (Humour 4)

SAMSUNG DIGITAL CAMERA

My cat here looks like she is tired of being bothered by the Pupparazzi. After all, one can’t look glamorous every minute of the day. Some people frown on anthropomorphism, but since I see animals as having souls and personalities, I enjoy it. Some of my British readers might be old enough to remember Animal Magic with presenter (and zookeeper) Johnny Morris. He would do voices for all the animals, and they were well-observed, funny and often, poignant. It helped birth in me a lifelong love and respect for animals and I think that, done with a self-conscious understanding, putting words in others’ mouths this way can often allow the joke to be on us! It can help us too, in our contemplative seeing, to recognise the “human” characteristics or behaviours in other species, so that we find out we are not so very different after all. It aids our inner poets and storytellers too, if we can imagine a ladybird going shopping, or a dandelion feeling the cold. Humour is often built upon empathy.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

103. Light and Shadow (Juxtaposition 3)

DSC00637

Light and its absence create a powerful striping across any subject. How different we look and sometimes feel in the brightness, as opposed to the dark. We long, don’t we, for the cool of shade when we are hot or blinded by the sun, and conversely, for the warmth and comfort of the sunlight, during dull grey days.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

38. Schrödinger’s Cat (hope)

38-schroedingers-cat

We haven’t seen our neighbours to speak to for a while, nor had we seen their ginger tomcat Timmy (fiercer than he sounds) all winter. He is getting on a bit and since he had also neglected to sign our Christmas card, we feared he had passed on. But today, there he was, sitting in the front garden, enjoying the almostness of the February sunshine. The warmth was not quite there in the same way that he seemed too good a sight to be true. For several months, he had been dead in my mind, and here he was bold as kitty brass, staring at me and wondering why I was telling him I was pleased to see him.

Hope is, perhaps sometimes like the cat in Schrödinger’s ironic fictional experiment, neither there and yet there at the same time, on account of ignorance of circumstances. One might picture Herr Schrödinger holding out a plate of tuna and calling the cat out of its box and into being, though he would, perhaps have been using a slightly more Germanic name than “Timmy.”

Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

35. Lunch? (hope)

35-hopeful-melly

What you cannot see in this photo is the proximity of a plump pigeon, right in Melody’s eyeline as she looks through her catflap with hope in her green eyes. In such a case, the hope is entirely false, since however large the pigeon, Melly would never manage to lay a claw on it due to her lack of speed, excess of girth and complete inability to go through her door without making a gigantic clatter.   But still the hope is there, poised and undeniable. Sometimes I feel surges of inexplicable optimism too, even though, like my cat, you’d really think I would know better by now.

 

Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017