The Literary Cat #2 (Reposted from Bookin’ It)

My Literary Cat

‘Sgt. Karrin Murphy, alias Murph’


In ancient times, cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.

 –Terry Pratchett

NOTE: Murph would be the most unlikely cat ever to be worshipped by anyone, anywhere. After rescuing her and her brother, Harry,  almost two years ago, as kittens merely eight weeks old,  Harry settled into our household and totally totally embraced his role as ruler of the roost. On the other hand, Murphy still dives under the nearest bed or couch when any human approaches her. You’d think she’d have figured out by now that we are mostly harmless and provide all the food and creature comforts she could ask for, as devoted slaves will do, but nooooo. We call her the Skittery Kittery.

4 thoughts on “The Literary Cat #2 (Reposted from Bookin’ It)

  1. She’s so pretty! I laughed at the ‘skittery kittery’. I have one of those!! I’m feeding (well, I guess I adopted) a feral cat who now lives on my patio. Several times a day he sits at my backdoor and I fill his bowls with food. But even after all this time, when I lean forward with the food, he dashes to the back of the patio and crouches under a lawn chair until I shut the door again. Just doesn’t trust me yet, I guess.


    • Sometimes they never do, Kathy. You have to wonder what their lives have been like before you entered the picture. My little red & white piebald dachshund had been badly abused when a rescue group took him away from his owner (who paid $1,000 for him, btw!!!) and I got him. He loved me right off the bat, but it was more than a year before Mark could get anywhere near him. And even though he will slink over to Mark now for a pat on the head, his tail is firmly between his legs because he still doesn’t really trust him. Cats who are afraid of people can be even harder, I think. I’m going to include a few more photos of some of my other cats, past and present, with appropriate literary quotations. And I’ll probably cross-post them, too, just on the principal that they are part of my every day life, which is basically the theme of this blog. You’ve been forewarned. A couple of them are terminally cute.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. She does look like him, at least enough to tell they are from the same littler. Her left front leg is completely black and white, like Harry, but she’s a lot smaller than he is. She can still squeeze through the gate that keeps most of the animals in the half of the house with tile floors. (Which includes my library and family room, so it’s where I am most of the day, anyway.) Harry, on the other hand, has had to jump over the gate for nearly a year now. They are now two years old, we think. We found them Easter weekend, 2 years ago, and they were about 8 weeks old at that time, so we figured a February birthday.

    All of my cats are rescues of some sort. Harry and Murphy from our woodpile, Abby was a street kitty in our last neighborhood, and Molly came from the shelter. Out of all my cats over the decades, only one wasn’t a rescue. She was a lovely, pedigreed Persian, which I really wanted to breed myself, back in the day when it seemed like a good idea. But she never cooperated. Ten minutes after going into heat, she would suddenly declare she had a headache and wanted nothing to do with any Persian toms. Ha. So we had her fixed and just loved on her all her years. And we never did that again.


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