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.