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The Feline Observer - ACHC&SE Copyright 2003-2004 Feedback: silelf@mac.com
23.10.03
Cat Food in the UK
By Paolo
Oh Dear me! Cat food is not filling me up. Master Brindis has a theory about our current situation: cat food in the UK are made of leftover fish and not proper chicken pieces as in Holland.
I have loss weight without major trouble, I am still big but I have no more a hanging tummy, and well mama Silvia is taking lots of care about me. My worries however go to Master Brindis: even with cat herbs and special diet, he seems to be in an impossible longing of fresh chicken.
The child Marlene scares me a lot! She gives us half of her meals because she does not want to eat her dinner. Sometimes her food is nice, but most of the times it contains too much spices.
Master Brindis is old; hence this is not a good thing for his stomach. He gets upset and then vomits or has diarrhoea attacks.
I am so worried I have started cleaning him. I wonder if he is well at all, as he seems to forget where he is and sometimes – this is embarrassing – he does not make it to the loo.
Next week, after Marlene and Alastair (our butler) go away for some days to the Netherlands, we shall be taken to see a new vet. This is a new experience for us, as we will be submitted to the latest tai-chi relaxation techniques – no that I am not relaxed- but mama Silvia has insisted that we get state of the art treatment.
It is my hope that Master Brindis will be after a bit to TLC better of his pains and aches.
Since I am living in the C’s house, I have learned to admire and respect Master Brindis inside knowledge and his constant pursue of Cat Perfection.
Long life to the Master,
Until next time,
By Paolo
Oh Dear me! Cat food is not filling me up. Master Brindis has a theory about our current situation: cat food in the UK are made of leftover fish and not proper chicken pieces as in Holland.
I have loss weight without major trouble, I am still big but I have no more a hanging tummy, and well mama Silvia is taking lots of care about me. My worries however go to Master Brindis: even with cat herbs and special diet, he seems to be in an impossible longing of fresh chicken.
The child Marlene scares me a lot! She gives us half of her meals because she does not want to eat her dinner. Sometimes her food is nice, but most of the times it contains too much spices.
Master Brindis is old; hence this is not a good thing for his stomach. He gets upset and then vomits or has diarrhoea attacks.
I am so worried I have started cleaning him. I wonder if he is well at all, as he seems to forget where he is and sometimes – this is embarrassing – he does not make it to the loo.
Next week, after Marlene and Alastair (our butler) go away for some days to the Netherlands, we shall be taken to see a new vet. This is a new experience for us, as we will be submitted to the latest tai-chi relaxation techniques – no that I am not relaxed- but mama Silvia has insisted that we get state of the art treatment.
It is my hope that Master Brindis will be after a bit to TLC better of his pains and aches.
Since I am living in the C’s house, I have learned to admire and respect Master Brindis inside knowledge and his constant pursue of Cat Perfection.
Long life to the Master,
Until next time,
18.10.03
Today's news:
Home for cats on threatened by closure for lack of money
Sick, wild or old: in the "Home of Last Refuge" cats that nobody wants are taken in and looked after for the rest of their days. This unconventional shelter is now facing closure: its founder and operator Günther Weber lacks the money to keep it going.
Günther Weber with his charges. "As long as you know it wants to go on living, a cat has a right to live and to get old." The shelter offers cats a "last refuge".
Christian Flierl Günther Weber loves cats more than anything else. He'd give his last shirt for them. In fact, maybe he already has. A tall man, he greets us in washed-out jeans and a slobbery T-shirt. Looks like a drop-out, the visitor thinks to himself. This is true of Günther Weber to the extent that for years he has been devoting his life to cats. At the moment he's sharing his house in Buckten with about 90 animals. In 1981 he had a house built for himself in this picturesque village not far from Basel, where he wanted to set up a photography studio and make a profession of his hobby. Instead of putting his dream of professional photography into effect, he became a professional protector of animals. After working as a volunteer for the animal ambulance service, he passed an examination as animal protector and in 1986 opened his "Last Refuge Home for Cats".
Shelter for abandoned cats
"Cats that are more than five years old can hardly be given to anyone else. They're put to sleep by animal shelters or not even accepted. The same is true of sick or wild cats," says Weber. It's an unpleasant fact which is often hushed up, he states. Such "disposable cats", as Weber himself calls them, are the ones he takes in. It doesn't matter whether they're just neurotic or chronically diseased; Weber would rather put his house at their disposal than put them down. "As long as you can tell that it wants to stay alive, a cat has the right to live and to get old. Even if it's missing a leg or is blind," he says as he takes us through his 12-room house. A sour smell hangs in the air. The cats, some of them incontinent, are divided into groups and rooms. From the odors to the furnishings – it can hardly be imagined how a civilized person could live here. The house is totally laid out for cats, from the basement to the uncared-for garden. Instead of a TV, nice furniture or a comfortable couch, Weber's kingdom has climbing structures, toys and carboard boxes. Even his private bedroom, furnished with two mattresses, has been taken over by a group of cats. It's only in his office that cats apparently do not have priority.
Weber is totally devoted to his work. Luxury is unknown to him, but he knows all the catfood brands and prices. His "refugees" are mostly brought to him by private persons as well as veterinarians. Most of his guests are from both Basel cantons. In sometimes daredevil fashion he's saved cats from certain death in the canton of Valais and other areas. An average of one cat a month dies in the "Last Refuge" of natural causes – sickness or old age. This experience makes an impression. "I no longer have any fear of death," says Weber, "but of the quality of dying."
Holidays are out of the question
What he is most afraid of, however, is that he might not be able to be there for the cats. Then there would be no one to continue the work. "I haven't yet met anyone daft enough who has done the required training and would give up everything else for the cats," says Weber. We ask when was the last time he had a holiday. Weber takes a minute to think, and then says: "It was 1982. At a camping site in Istria." Holidays have been out of the question ever since he opened the shelter for cats. Even his girl friend would have to be devoted to the cats, Weber declares.
Up to three years ago he also did shift work in the field of energy supply. But the cats demanded more and more of his time, so that at age 50 Weber took the bold step of going independent, founded his own company and tried to finance his shelter by the distribution and sale of cat straw. The reason is that the upkeep and operating costs were always entirely covered by donations and his personal "investment".
Reserves used up
However, the step towards independence has now turned into a nightmare. As Weber explains, he was exploited and deceived by a business partner. "I've got no income, and the feeding and veterinary costs for the cats run into fixed costs of 5,000 francs a month," he says. Now his reserves are used up, and his life's work threatens to come to an end. Together with friends from the Cats Aid Association of Northwest Switzerland he is making a cry for help throughout the region. "Without donations I can't operate the shelter for cats any longer," he fears. And he hopes that with his call for help via the Basler Zeitung newspaper its further existence can be secured.
By Marc Krebs, translated by John O'Brien
Basler Zeitung of October 17, 2003
Home for cats on threatened by closure for lack of money
Sick, wild or old: in the "Home of Last Refuge" cats that nobody wants are taken in and looked after for the rest of their days. This unconventional shelter is now facing closure: its founder and operator Günther Weber lacks the money to keep it going.
Günther Weber with his charges. "As long as you know it wants to go on living, a cat has a right to live and to get old." The shelter offers cats a "last refuge".
Christian Flierl Günther Weber loves cats more than anything else. He'd give his last shirt for them. In fact, maybe he already has. A tall man, he greets us in washed-out jeans and a slobbery T-shirt. Looks like a drop-out, the visitor thinks to himself. This is true of Günther Weber to the extent that for years he has been devoting his life to cats. At the moment he's sharing his house in Buckten with about 90 animals. In 1981 he had a house built for himself in this picturesque village not far from Basel, where he wanted to set up a photography studio and make a profession of his hobby. Instead of putting his dream of professional photography into effect, he became a professional protector of animals. After working as a volunteer for the animal ambulance service, he passed an examination as animal protector and in 1986 opened his "Last Refuge Home for Cats".
Shelter for abandoned cats
"Cats that are more than five years old can hardly be given to anyone else. They're put to sleep by animal shelters or not even accepted. The same is true of sick or wild cats," says Weber. It's an unpleasant fact which is often hushed up, he states. Such "disposable cats", as Weber himself calls them, are the ones he takes in. It doesn't matter whether they're just neurotic or chronically diseased; Weber would rather put his house at their disposal than put them down. "As long as you can tell that it wants to stay alive, a cat has the right to live and to get old. Even if it's missing a leg or is blind," he says as he takes us through his 12-room house. A sour smell hangs in the air. The cats, some of them incontinent, are divided into groups and rooms. From the odors to the furnishings – it can hardly be imagined how a civilized person could live here. The house is totally laid out for cats, from the basement to the uncared-for garden. Instead of a TV, nice furniture or a comfortable couch, Weber's kingdom has climbing structures, toys and carboard boxes. Even his private bedroom, furnished with two mattresses, has been taken over by a group of cats. It's only in his office that cats apparently do not have priority.
Weber is totally devoted to his work. Luxury is unknown to him, but he knows all the catfood brands and prices. His "refugees" are mostly brought to him by private persons as well as veterinarians. Most of his guests are from both Basel cantons. In sometimes daredevil fashion he's saved cats from certain death in the canton of Valais and other areas. An average of one cat a month dies in the "Last Refuge" of natural causes – sickness or old age. This experience makes an impression. "I no longer have any fear of death," says Weber, "but of the quality of dying."
Holidays are out of the question
What he is most afraid of, however, is that he might not be able to be there for the cats. Then there would be no one to continue the work. "I haven't yet met anyone daft enough who has done the required training and would give up everything else for the cats," says Weber. We ask when was the last time he had a holiday. Weber takes a minute to think, and then says: "It was 1982. At a camping site in Istria." Holidays have been out of the question ever since he opened the shelter for cats. Even his girl friend would have to be devoted to the cats, Weber declares.
Up to three years ago he also did shift work in the field of energy supply. But the cats demanded more and more of his time, so that at age 50 Weber took the bold step of going independent, founded his own company and tried to finance his shelter by the distribution and sale of cat straw. The reason is that the upkeep and operating costs were always entirely covered by donations and his personal "investment".
Reserves used up
However, the step towards independence has now turned into a nightmare. As Weber explains, he was exploited and deceived by a business partner. "I've got no income, and the feeding and veterinary costs for the cats run into fixed costs of 5,000 francs a month," he says. Now his reserves are used up, and his life's work threatens to come to an end. Together with friends from the Cats Aid Association of Northwest Switzerland he is making a cry for help throughout the region. "Without donations I can't operate the shelter for cats any longer," he fears. And he hopes that with his call for help via the Basler Zeitung newspaper its further existence can be secured.
By Marc Krebs, translated by John O'Brien
Basler Zeitung of October 17, 2003
6.10.03
Eltham Palace
by Brindis
My humans have been telling me again about their trip to this fascinating place called Eltham Palace, which I wrote about once before. Silvia said she liked the house as it was designed by a "pet" (the human word for master), just as their architectural ideas for their new flat originally came from me. I have to say that Alastair is not in my good books at present after giving me diarrhoea by offering me a piece of fish laced with chile, and then trying to blame poor Marlene, who kindly fed me a huge, unadulterated piece of fresh cod. If he had compared me with a lemming, or lemur or whatever it was, I would have been even more cross, but sometimes you have to take Silvia with a pinch of salt.
Silvia told me that this creature had the full run of the house. Most cats would ask what is so remarkable about that, as every cat has an unwritten contract with his or her human cohabitants that they shall have the right of passage without let or hindrance (to use the proper terms). However, Silvia and I understand each other's language at a level higher than the literal meaning of mere words, and what she meant by that was that the lemming, or lemur (or did she mean leopard? - that would make more sense!) had complete freedom of thought and was able to discuss any idea freely.
And so I wish to put forward my belief that freedom is not just about movement. As I wrote in my last article, my adventure along the terrace was not so exciting, but I had to prove to myself that our inner world is more interesting than the one beyond the window pane. As I write, young Paolo gazes out, trying to catch the eye of a lady cat down below, who has not even noticed him, as she is carefully looking both ways before crossing the road. For him, I know that the outdoors still has its lure. He might have forgotten that he once lived on a farm in Tuscany, and his romantic idyll is far removed from the horrible truth he told me about when he first arrived.
I would be interested to hear whether younger cats feel the same way. Perhaps it is just the voice of an old cat, but I do feel that age brings its own insights and wisdoms, and I hope that the new generation will take heed. Even Paolo is beginning to learn to read, and develop his inner world and imagination in a quite surprising way. Of course, he is lucky to have one-to-one tuition, which is necessary, as he did not learn quite as quickly as the other cats when he lived on the farm. But he is not complacent, and appreciates my lessons. Our editor, Hugo de Chat Noir, was quite sceptical about Paolo's poem. But he should be patient, as not all of us are born geniuses, and he is working hard to catch up. Perhaps, one day, he will be like that leopard at Eltham Palace. He certainly has the right colour and size to be mistaken for one.
by Brindis
My humans have been telling me again about their trip to this fascinating place called Eltham Palace, which I wrote about once before. Silvia said she liked the house as it was designed by a "pet" (the human word for master), just as their architectural ideas for their new flat originally came from me. I have to say that Alastair is not in my good books at present after giving me diarrhoea by offering me a piece of fish laced with chile, and then trying to blame poor Marlene, who kindly fed me a huge, unadulterated piece of fresh cod. If he had compared me with a lemming, or lemur or whatever it was, I would have been even more cross, but sometimes you have to take Silvia with a pinch of salt.
Silvia told me that this creature had the full run of the house. Most cats would ask what is so remarkable about that, as every cat has an unwritten contract with his or her human cohabitants that they shall have the right of passage without let or hindrance (to use the proper terms). However, Silvia and I understand each other's language at a level higher than the literal meaning of mere words, and what she meant by that was that the lemming, or lemur (or did she mean leopard? - that would make more sense!) had complete freedom of thought and was able to discuss any idea freely.
And so I wish to put forward my belief that freedom is not just about movement. As I wrote in my last article, my adventure along the terrace was not so exciting, but I had to prove to myself that our inner world is more interesting than the one beyond the window pane. As I write, young Paolo gazes out, trying to catch the eye of a lady cat down below, who has not even noticed him, as she is carefully looking both ways before crossing the road. For him, I know that the outdoors still has its lure. He might have forgotten that he once lived on a farm in Tuscany, and his romantic idyll is far removed from the horrible truth he told me about when he first arrived.
I would be interested to hear whether younger cats feel the same way. Perhaps it is just the voice of an old cat, but I do feel that age brings its own insights and wisdoms, and I hope that the new generation will take heed. Even Paolo is beginning to learn to read, and develop his inner world and imagination in a quite surprising way. Of course, he is lucky to have one-to-one tuition, which is necessary, as he did not learn quite as quickly as the other cats when he lived on the farm. But he is not complacent, and appreciates my lessons. Our editor, Hugo de Chat Noir, was quite sceptical about Paolo's poem. But he should be patient, as not all of us are born geniuses, and he is working hard to catch up. Perhaps, one day, he will be like that leopard at Eltham Palace. He certainly has the right colour and size to be mistaken for one.
