Now Laura’s really famous!

Lots of people in Barbados know about Laura and the Hope Sanctuary and the wonderful work they do in saving puppies like me. Now even more know because a magazine called Signature Barbados has published a brilliant article about The Hope-Martin Animal Foundation which Laura runs. The Foundation, which is affiliated with the sanctuary, has a big yellow mobile bus that goes around the island offering to sterilize canines for only $25, to help control the ever-rising puppy population. And, boy, is that important because Robert Sandiford, who wrote the article, says there are approximately 207,000 dogs on Barbados and, ‘that’s uncomfortably close to one dog for every man, woman and child’.

Wow! Imagine what it would be like if that was true of other countries. There would be almost 60 million puppies in the UK, and another 60 million in France, and 300 million in the US—and, in China, 1.3 billion! That’s way too many puppies, I think.

So, the article is very important in drawing attention to the Foundation’s crucial work. It begins with the lovely whole-page picture of Laura (taken by Andrew Hulsmeier, who clearly knows one end of a camera from the other) and then continues like this:


Oh, and later on, there’s also a picture of the big yellow bus:



Now, of course, the bus doesn’t run for free—and $25 per operation doesn’t go very far towards meeting the costs. Fortunately, the Foundation has a major benefactor, Tony Martin. Step forward Mr. Martin and take a bow:


But even his incredible generosity is not enough to keep the project going. So, now step forward the very famous Simon Cowell—he of Pop Idol, American Idol and X-Factor fame—who people love to hate, apparently, though I can’t imagine why.

Well, if you love puppies, you can’t hate him now because, earlier this year, Laura asked Simon to host a charity auction in Barbados which raised an amazing $60,000—and then Simon kicked in a substantial donation of his own.

Here’s a picture of Laura and Simon after the auction. I’m so, so proud of her.

One young puppy growing fast

So, Grandson Jack has two teeth! And, on Saturday, young Jack made his first attempt to crawl. My dad says, Give him a week and he'll be flying a plane. What a boy!

Savannah

I’m really very sorry to tell you that Savannah, one of our four kittens, died yesterday. He had survived two bouts of cancer but then his lungs grew old and weak and it became difficult for him to breathe. It was also difficult for him to eat and he grew terribly thin. Finally he stopped eating altogether, and yesterday morning my dad took Savannah to see our vet, Patrice, who’s a very humane man. Patrice said it was time to let Savannah go, and he gave him a little injection while my dad held him until he went to sleep.

My mum and dad are very, very sad. Their pet names for Savannah were ‘Prince’ and ‘First Born’—because he was the first of the three grey kittens to move into their house. That was fifteen years ago, when they found this really tiny kitten hiding in the engine of their car. When they brought him into the house he was very wild, spitting and scratching, but when he heard the music that was playing—Bach, apparently—he immediately settled down and began washing himself, and that was the beginning of the love affair with my mum and dad that lasted for more than one hundred cat years.


Savannah was also known as ‘The Mighty Hunter’ because unlike the other greys—Milo and Georgia—he would sometimes demand to leave the house and go off to fend for himself, sometimes for days at a time. And once he returned with a whole chicken, as big as he was, that he carried into the courtyard and proceeded to eat! (Don’t worry; it was already dead.)

By the time I arrived on the scene, Savannah’s Mighty Hunter days were over. He would still demand to be let out—and, boy, could that kitten howl!—but he only pretended to go hunting. Actually, my dad tells me, he would hide in our neighbour’s garden, and he would always come home when it was time for dinner.

So, now only one of three greys is left: Georgia, who, I’m pleased to say, seems very healthy, even though she’s also fifteen. And we still have Rabbit and, of course, the dreaded Sooty—so we’re not exactly short of kittens.

Still, the house seems a little bit empty today, because something very precious is missing.

I went to the vet

My mum and dad said it was time to go and see the vet. Why?

Because it was time for my annual check-up, apparently. Oh, and I needed to have my jabs updated - and my nails cut. Terrific! I really enjoyed it - not.

This is what happened.[Technical note from Dad: You may have to play the video twice to get it to stream properly.]

What’s second prize?

Today being the first anniversary of my arrival in France, I was expecting a present. So, I wasn’t surprised when my mum and dad said this morning, ‘We’ve got something for you.’ And what might that be, I asked coyly. ‘A photo album’ said my dad. Photos of moi, I assumed. ‘Photos of Sooty’ said my mum.

Terrific! As if I don’t get to see enough of my wretched kitten!

Okay, the photos are special because they were taken by my Uncle Patrick (Dugan) who, for some reason, finds Sooty amusing. That’s because he, Patrick, spends most of his life on airplanes, flying around the world, and only comes here for five minutes at a time (even though he has his own house in the village and could be here all of the time if he wanted)—so what does he really know about Sooty?

Anyway, my dad said I should share some of Patrick’s photos with you, so here they are.

Let me know what you think. This was my reaction.

Can you believe it?

It’s exactly a year ago today that I left my home with Laura in Barbados and set off on my journey to France. My dad’s calculated that I flew 11,492 kilometres to get here, which, he says, would have been very good for my air miles – except the airlines don’t give air miles to puppies! Don’t you think that’s a scandal

Anyway, the year has just flown by, as fast as I flew, and in only two days time I’ll be celebrating the first anniversary of my actual arrival in La Belle France. I’m sure the kittens are planning something very special to mark the occasion… A roast chicken supper, perhaps?

Homage to Joe

This wonderful portrait of dear Joe Downing was taken by Brice Toul, a professional photographer (obviously!) who lives in our village. Brice was among the crowd of people that gathered in front of our church to say goodbye to Joe, and my dad asked him if I could share this picture with you, and Brice said yes. Thank you, Brice!

It was a very nice tribute. Our mayor spoke about how important Joe was to the village, and how he touched so many lives, and he read out a letter of condolence from the American ambassador in Paris. And then Philip Hughes, a famous artist who’s had a house in the village forever, spoke very movingly about his long, long friendship with Joe.

And while all this was going on, the sun came out of a rain-soaked sky to make a beautiful rainbow, almost as colourful as one of Joe’s paintings. I think Joe painted it for us, to make us feel a little less sad.

Joe Downing, RIP

I’m sorry to have to tell you we’ve lost another friend. Joe Downing was an American who’d lived in our village forever and everybody knew and loved him. He was a famous painter—one of only three American artists to have exhibited in the Louvre Museum in Paris (which is a really big deal, apparently)—but you wouldn’t have guessed that if you’d seen him dressed in his blue dungarees, with an habitual handkerchief tied around his neck, walking one of his beloved puppies. Joe also loved kittens and had armfuls of them living in his garden, which is so high it almost reaches the sky.

Joe’s back was bent by arthritis and he could only walk with the aid of a tall staff, and I sometimes wondered how he was able to get up and down all of the hills in our village, but he did. He never complained—‘Not too bad,’ he would always say when you asked him how he was feeling—and, in fifteen years, my mum and dad never heard him say a bad word about anybody. He was a good, good man and he will be missed as much as he will be remembered.

I’m depressed that 2008 has begun on such a sad note. So, I thought I’d cheer myself up by showing you the latest picture of Grandson Jack and his gorgeous mum, Becc.

Now, you may notice that Jack is wearing what appears to be a dress! Why? Well, apparently, Jack was taken to a church to be baptised (whatever that might mean) and, when that happens, little boys are made to wear dresses and have their picture taken—so they can be thoroughly embarrassed when they grow up, no doubt.

Aren’t humans weird?

HAPPY NEW YEAR, everybody, from Me and My Kittens! My dad says that should be ‘my kittens and I’—but who’s writing this blog? Whatever… The point is, we—Savannah, Georgia, Rabbit, Sooty and me—hope that 2008 brings you everything you wish for.