Tag Archives: Spain

Hmm… must be wash day.


“Well, really! I don’t think much of this week’s entry whatsoever.”

I love Tina, honestly, I do. She’s a gorgeous, clever little Spanish athlete who just happens to be feline. A loving, sensitive and highly intelligent rescue cat from Spain who is a joy to have around. Yes, you’re quite right, there’s a “but” coming.

How can I put this delicately?

Let me think about this.

Right! Thought long enough, she pongs. Absolutely. The aroma which emits from her little person can sometimes have you gagging and wishing your sinuses were completely congested because Tina has her moments of absolutely humming to high heaven.

We, being my ex-husband and I, give her a regular bath. First it was every three months which increased to every two months and now it’s every five weeks. She loves them. Has no aversion to water whatsoever which is lucky for us. If we let her she’d be on her back playing amongst the bubbles (cruelty-free, naturally) having the time of her life with her rubber mouse.

The thing is, Tina was tested positive for the FIV virus. And me being me I rushed or as near to it to the Internet to do a whole load of reading up about FIV in cats otherwise known confusingly as Feline Aids. She has the virus not full-blown aids it’s not the same thing. Anyway, before I get sounding too much like a Dr Kildare for cats, Tina’s saliva is pretty potent and this is predominantly what gives her that unique fragrance as the more she licks herself the more she pongs. I mean, that’s putting it mildly. You know of the Komodo dragon and how its spit is so lethal it can remove paint from a piece of furniture in the next county. Like that bedside cabinet you finally threw out as forget “distressed” this was already on St. John’s wort? A Prozac equivalent.

Tina the Komodo.

The poor little thing can’t help it, I know that! But it’s not only us who benefit from her date with water she’s none too happy about smelling like something that’s past its sell-by date either, I can tell you. And me being me having ME have to be careful. They say cats with the FIV virus or even Feline Aids can quite happily live alongside humans as humans cannot catch anything from the cat. This is true. Absolutely true. Except where I’m concerned. But then I never claimed to be “normal” not my favourite word to describe a person or activity as what’s normal?

Surely something that’s different for everyone.

My immune system is knackered. Not worth much. And therein lies the clue. I have learnt to be extra careful and wash my hands even more diligently after touching Tina. Besides, she didn’t mean to give me an infected eye. It wasn’t her fault I went around looking like Charles Laughton in the 1939 version of “Quasimodo” but without the hunched back for almost a month. My fault entirely.

Would I welcome another animal with the FIV virus? Absolutely. They can’t help it as much as I can’t help my ME. In fact, having ME has made me more tolerant of the fact she has this illness. She has her freaky moments as it does affect the brain (not many people know that) and of course she has her pongs. I learnt a long time ago you adapt and fit in with the world you can’t expect the world to change for you.

And I wouldn’t change a thing about her.

Best to you and much happiness,

Tina fast asleep on the lamp base on the desk of my ex-husband. Yes, this is not my desk. No, I do not have pictures of women’s naked bottoms adorning my desk not to mention Pokemon. As Tina would say, well, really!

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Posted by on February 17, 2014 in Uncategorized


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Spanish athletes are feline

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Mum’s poodle, Meg, Guernsey, circa late 80s. On her return from the poodle parlour. That’s the dog, not Mum. Yes… do you reckon the stylist was having a bad day or something because I never knew they gave short back and sides to dogs.

Yesterday I couldn’t make up my mind if I was feeling hot or cold. The heating was being turned on and off so many times it looked like I was attempting a Morse code message with my Calor gas flame. Ah, well, at least I’m not on the receiving end of any birds knocking at the window which is always a good sign although the other day there were a couple of chaffinches flitting about in the naked tree pecking away on something only visible to birdy beady eyes.

Tina, the cat, spied them and instantly began a one-way monologue.

Tina is a little strange which has nothing to do with the fact she’s from Spain. I’m sure of it. Like all good Spanish she’s a superb athlete and loves playing with her squeaky mice, catnip mice and my supply of Labellos. She lobs the flying toy back and forth with such skill you could be forgiven for thinking you are in the middle of a tennis match. Or she’ll jump with both arms raised to intercept the flying offender in a move that any goalie would be proud to emulate.

The weirdness comes into play when she attempts to scale my back like Edmund Hillary.

As I’m sitting upright at the time I can only surmise she’s stuck flypaper to the soles of her feet in her hope to scale the summit and plant a Spanish flag on the top of my head. Well, it would make a change from a tin of organic tomatoes flavoured with basil.

I think I’m a little weird so the cat is in good company so to speak.

She’s a rescue cat from Spain hence the flag of her country. I trawled through all available cat rescue shelters to find her as company for my ex-husband. So he wouldn’t miss something weird and catty muttering about the place when I’ve returned to the UK. And that’s weird in itself, I mean, who stays with their ex-spouse? Does any of this ring a bell with anyone out there or is it just me?

Talking of which… all right! Bear with, bear with! Let me get my little plug in. “Cat Tales” is continuing to do well on Nook. Three excellent reviews. Well, two and one with five stars but no comment. Probably lost for words. Thank you kind readers for your input whomever you are.

Well, back to it.

Happy New Year to one and all, and just a thought, say hello to that old person down the road who lives all alone. Maybe even offer to help with something or pop in for a cup of tea. One day, that could be you. Or me. Oh, nice! What an inspiring note on which to finish. Can’t do it. Think on. One is never truly alone when one is in the company of good music, good books, and a good dog (or cat)!

Best, best,
Rosie x

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Cat Tales by Rosemary Bach-Holzer


Posted by on January 6, 2014 in Uncategorized


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