The Gorgeous Serendipity of Cats, Writing and World Book Night…

February 24, 2015February 26, 2015 Sandra Love Letters Blogging, Cats, serendipity, world book night, Writing

Number 25 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

Yesterday I received an email, which began:

“CONGRATULATIONS! We’re thrilled to tell you that you’ve been chosen as a World Book Night 2015 volunteer! You will be joining thousands of other volunteers across the country to share your love of reading and inspire others to begin their reading journey.”

I have taken part as a volunteer for World Book Night before, for a number of reasons – not least because I have a love of books and words, which I got from my father (now departed), who read to me every night as a child. As a result I was transported to exciting new worlds and introduced to a host of characters; I learnt and grew my vocabulary: and to this day love where writing can take you, in every sense – allowing you to escape (from the every day), to learn, and to grow, and all this whilst being entertained.

Of course, not every one has had the start that I did, nor have formed a reading practice for what ever reason…

Run by The Reading Agency, World Book Night is celebrated in Britain on 23 April and the Their Website explains what it is all about:

“Reading for pleasure is a globally recognised indicator in a huge range of social issues from poverty to mental health, yet in the UK 35% of people don’t regularly read.

World Book Night brings together a powerful collaboration of national partners – publishers, printers, distributors, libraries, booksellers, private donors, trusts and foundations – to inspire more people to read. Thousands of volunteers share their love of reading by giving out books to people in their communities who, for whatever reason, don’t read for pleasure or own books. National, regional and local events up and down the country celebrate the difference that reading makes to people’s lives.”

As an avid reader and a published author, my wish is that as many people as possible get the opportunity to receive and read. Every year there are a number of titles that are donated by publishers to give away and when you apply to be a volunteer, you also apply for which particular titles you would like to give out.

The organisers weren’t always able to give everyone their first choice, but did manage to allocate volunteers one of their top three choices. I am delighted to say that I got my first choice and I chose my title for a very specific set of reasons.

So, on the evening of the 23rd of April I will be giving out 18 copies of: ‘Street Cat Bob: How One Man and a Cat Saved Each Other’s Lives. A True Story.’ This is a brand new, ‘Quick Read’ edition of a book I read several years ago called: ‘A Street Cat Named Bob: How One Man and His Cat Found Hope on the Streets’.

The book tells the true and uplifting story of James Bowen, a drug addict, busker and Big Issue seller, living off the streets of London, and his cat – a ginger tom called Bob.

When the author found this injured street cat in the hallway of his sheltered housing, he had no idea just how much his life was about to change. Soon the two were best friends, and their funny and sometimes dangerous adventures would change both their lives, slowly healing the scars of each other’s troubled pasts.

It is an easy and inspiring read, taking you into the world of James and Bob and detailing the slow, not always easy redemption of each of them.

As a reader, writer and cat lover, it was therefore the perfect choice for me, not least because I am currently exploring ‘What Cats Teach Us About Life’ in a series of blogs that I have been posting online this month, as part of a blog challenge I have set myself. My brief is to write a piece every day of the month of February and it has been a fabulous experience, exploring how cats can give us so much pleasure, support and if we choose to see it – learning too.

The serendipity of World Book Night offering the opportunity to be a volunteer (acceptance is not guaranteed); then offering this title (they offer a wide variety of options which are different every year) and then accepting me as a volunteer to give out this particular book, all in this month when I am writing about cats and what they can teach us, is completely perfect and also an opportunity for which I am gorgeously grateful.

Alongside this, I will also be giving away some free copies of my own book ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’, showing how the simple act of writing a letter, can be a healing release that any one who can write, can do…

During March, World Book Night will be releasing details of events across the United Kingdom so you will see more from them, me and the army of volunteers gearing up for the evening of 23rd April.

I now have to decide where and who the books will go to… I live near Coventry in the West Midlands, so will be staying as local as possible. I already have some ideas, but would also welcome ideas for organisations, groups and individuals that would really love the opportunity to start, re-discover or develop a new reading routine. Please feel free to contact me through my blog with any suggestions that you have.

I have three cats of my own of course – so George, Taz and Sophia – whether they know it or not, they are all lending me their support. And this year, as far as I am concerned, four paws is most definitely the way to go…

Watch this space for more World Book Night news…

PS: World Book Night can be found and followed on Facebook and Twitter.

PPS: A collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a book. I’m completely biased of course, but it makes a ‘purrfect’ present, whether you be a cat lover or no. All of human life is in this gorgeous book – all the fear, light, dark, and of course love, for any one who wants to be entertained and to know that they are not alone in life, what ever it holds for you, even if it isn’t all about cats… You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ from book websites any where in the world, including Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)…

Time to Let Sleeping Cats Lie

February 23, 2015 Sandra Love Letters

Number 24 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

George & Sophia, sweetly snoozing…

One afternoon, after a delicious snooze on my sofa, I awoke to find George as always, sweetly and soundly asleep at my side. Coming to, I realised that I had lost sight of my mobile phone. After groping around in all the usual crevices that like to suck my most wanted possessions into their insidious vortexes, I was still none the wiser.

So I grabbed the land line and dialled my mobile. I was relieved to hear it ring almost instantly. But the ringing did not come from a telephone, it came instead, from my cat.

George had turned into a giant ring tone. Like a mothering hen, he was cradling the warm digital device under his soft stomach, and I so snatched my precious ‘egg’ from under him, laughing out very loud as I did so. Startled out of his very important sleep, George was clearly not amused. How dare I: a) disturb him and in such an uncouth manner and b) ridicule him for his kindly tea-cosying of my telecommunications handset??

He gave me such a look of haughty distain that I then felt impelled to use the camera on the phone to capture that perfect moment of affront, and here is the resulting picture…

Far be it from me to deliberately disturb a cat’s self satisfied sleep. In reality I am so much better at doing that to myself thank you very much.

My head is a busy one, certainly busier than my body. Life is often hectic and fast, but I’m not so sure that I am. I remember a younger version of me who was always on the move, on the run, organising social events, keeping busy, always with a short boredom threshold, looking for variety, for change.

I would run home from a long day at work: eat, have a bath, get changed and dash out again, night after night, weekend after weekend. Desperately being any where but in my head and heart. The trouble was, that I always took them with me…

But now, I’ve slowed down; may be it’s middle age, maybe it’s a realisation that back in my mad gypsy days, I didn’t like to stop and think and feel and face up to myself.

So back then, I’d often have a single cat companion, a constant in my life, someone to come home to, because oddly, despite all my running around, I’ve always known I’m a little home bird too. Well, that’s me, truly contradictory.

And now I give in to the lazy – to the sweet neutrality of doing nothing, bugger all, sweet F.A.

Let’s start with sleeping, in common with cats I’m really good at it. It is definitely one of my real talents. My head will hit the pillow and I’ll be gone, cradled in the arms of Morpheus until morning. And Morpheus morphs into a form of morphine, it is a drug – too little and I’m light headed and divorced from the world, too much and I have a hang over of excess heaviness.

But cats some how have the balance right. Did I say balance?! In their case sleep is the majority of their daily activity. Apparently they sleep for two thirds of their lives. As a lover of sweet sleep I so envy a cat’s ability to nap with such constant certainty and consistency.

And there I am, of an evening, awake and possibly alert, sitting in my living room, when silently and suddenly I find that I am surrounded by three snoozing felines of various hues.

George is nearly always besides me, my constant guardian, whilst opposite us, Taz occupies the right hand side and Sophia has carved the left hand side of the other sofa, as her own soft sleeping place.

Often I’m not even aware that they have even entered the room, and then I look up and a quiet threesome of zizzing cats will just be there, insinuated, and all curled up, like a scatter of perfect tight commas, sharing the sofas with each other and with me.

There is an infinite perfection in the curl of a sleeping cat. A gorgeous, soft circle, in the aligned circumference of head, body, limbs, paws and then tail. And after a while the circle gently unfurls, and stretches out into contented poses of bodied out bliss.

If you have ever practised Yoga or Tai Chi or any form of slow enervated movement that allows you to stretch into a calm coming together of body and stilled mind; then you will, just about, start to appreciate the unrestrained, pure pleasure of a cat reaching out to the Universe to express its’ sheer and utter surrender to the simple ecstasy of its own soul felt and physical existence.

Ah yes, nearly all the cats I know are smugly at one with their place on this planet and completely ‘into’ their bodies.

And taking all this into consideration – if sleeping sweetly and smugly was an Olympic event, this species would win the Gold medal, paws down, without fault, a perfect ten, every single time…

PS: Did you know that a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, cats and all? I’m completely biased of course, but it makes a purrfect present, whether you be a cat lover or no. All of human life is in this gorgeous book – all the fear, light, dark, and of course love, for any one who wants to be entertained and to know that they are not alone in life, what ever it holds for you, even if it isn’t all about cats… You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ from book websites any where in the world, including Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)…

What Cats Teach Us About Life: How to find the ‘I’ in Serval…

February 23, 2015February 23, 2015 Sandra Love Letters Blogging, Cats, DISC, kittens, serval, wild cats

Number 23 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

I am blending and blurring the lines of my life… Linking the disparate and disciplined, making a whole picture out of all the multi coloured jigsaw pieces of my creation – born and made. And by doing so, I am bringing more of me into who I am and what I do, in everything, so that life is more natural and more easy… Blissful sigh… Smug pause…

Whilst I am practising the art of being more of myself, being more ‘natural and easy’, cats of course, are just getting on with it. And the elements of my life that I shall be drawing together today, are the observation and interaction of (human) personality theories, as applied to cats…

As a qualified Occupational Tester, one of the tools I use most often is a psychometric inventory based on the DISC personality assessment system. The letters stand for what are regarded as the four main personality traits – Dominance, Influence, Steadiness, and Compliance. I shall now gently develop this in DISCC – ‘DISC for Cats’, since, as well as personality assessment, I also have extensive experience in the field of cat guardianship (not ownership – you never own a cat) and so I shall be combining the personality and the puss.

The trait I shall be investigating with my cats today is the ‘I’ of the DISC model, which stands for Influence. And my four legged muse to assist me in this exploration, is the youngest member of The Pride – my kitten-cat Sophia.

I know a lot about this particular trait since I, most definitely am a ‘High I’, so far be it from me to chastise Sophia for displaying all its’ inherent aspects – really loudly and really intensely. Now, aside from the delivery, the ‘I’ is about influencing, so Sophia always wants me to be on her side and therefore keeps up a constant barrage of conversational mews, meows, trills, chirrups, and squeaks. These linguistic gambits play on a constant, incessant communication – of what she wants, how she feels, and where she is.

In the wild cat world, this would make her a Serval, a creature which lives in the savannahs and grasslands of Africa. Servals are show off cats, being the only wild feline that has both spots and stripes, allowing them to camouflage perfectly in to their grassy habitat. This helps them to be both an efficient hunter and a hider – ensuring that they are not seen by larger predators. And just in case they then happen to be happened upon, the Serval also has markings on the back of its ears that look like big, scary, ‘leave me alone’ eyes.

Servals fit into the ‘I’ trait in that they are very well adapted to their environment. Most I’s have a quick paced flexibility to react to and fit into their surroundings; and also with their peers. They will also have a tendency to hide from trouble rather than meet it head on. Servals have very large ears, enabling them to hear prey from up to 20 feet away, just as Sophia can hear the opening of a cat food pouch through walls, doors and fields away.

After the Cheetah, the Serval is the fastest of the wild cats, reaching running speeds of up to 30 miles an hour. Any one who has met Sophia will know that she displays the typical High I characteristics of being incredibly fast paced, virtually all of the time. These adaptations serve the Serval well and so this cat catches nearly half the prey that it goes after, in comparison to the lion, which only catches about 30 percent. Sophia too is speedily adept at being the first to the food bowl, to the lap and out of the cat flat, all three achieved, usually within the space of speedy seconds.

If you were to ask an ‘I’ how to go about doing – just about anything, you would invariably find them carrying it out in the most fun, sociable or brightest way. Servals and Sophia alike, want to get to the bottom of things and so as a type, are typified by the question ‘why’, and as arch socialisers, will want to know ‘who’ too. Sophia is always whizzing around, focussing on the next best thing, paws flying definitively towards the future. She loves to be acknowledged and praised and will squeak back her undisguised pleasure at your ministrations, be they physical or verbal.

She is, most definitely an ‘I’ in that she is like quick silver – sensitive, reactive and intuitive, blowing with the wind or racing like a Serval across the Savannah (of the garden). Her mission is to entertain and amuse you; but put her under stress or cross her, and the claws will (literally) be out and she will hiss out her (rare) displeasure.

The Serval type is a natural motivator, coercing you firmly and positively towards the end goal – usually of food or love. This can all become all too much when a salvo of deliberate posing, posturing and purrs can just amount to manipulative attention seeking tactics, with desperate striving to get to something or some one, regardless of whether the object of all that forced attention, wishes for the same thing.

Usually though you are on the same page, and visitors are enchanted by her obvious charms. I had a recent guest who had not met my I-type cat before and wondered where she was. I explained with a twinkle that one thing is for certain – you will never miss Miss Sophia’s entrance into any room; and sure enough, in she soon flashed, meowing her little head off, demanding every one’s attention and then enthusiastically checking them all out.

I like to think that some how I am more soothing and subtle to be around, yet appreciate that this I-trait, is after all, all about the ‘I’… And in that respect Sophia and I are most definitely twin attention seeking souls…

PS: The source of the Serval information was: georginadp6.weebly.com/characteristics.html

PPS: Did you know that a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, cats and all? I’m completely biased of course, but it makes a purrfect present, whether you be a cat lover or no. All of human life is in this gorgeous book – all the fear, light, dark, and of course love, for any one who wants to be entertained and to know that they are not alone in life, what ever it holds for you, even if it isn’t all about cats… You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ from book websites any where in the world, including Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)…

The Ancient History and Wisdom of Cats…

February 22, 2015February 26, 2015 Sandra Love Letters

Number 22 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

Bastet – worshipped Egyptian Goddess: part woman, part cat…

As a relatively sane woman with a respectable number of decades lived under her purple belt, why would I be revering cats, recounting their exploits and expounding upon what we humans can learn from them? There are any number of reasons – starting with a simple love of cats and how a prolonged meditation upon them is turning into a treatise that is intended to entertaining and to gently teaching.

There is also the fact that cats are the most popular pet on the planet and almost inevitably to be found living with or by, a huge proportion of man’s global population.

In fact it is believed that the ancestors of the modern domestic cat (Felis silvestris catus) have been man’s companion since the Neolithic age – around 9500 years ago.

As man came out of the cave and started civilisations, so too he started to form more formal bonds with the feline; and so it is surmised that around 6000 years ago the African Wildcat (Felis silvestris lybica) entered Egyptian towns in search of food – catching rats in grain stores – and choosing to live close to humans.

The African Wild Cat

We can only guess at how and why a wild cat would come out of the jungle and allow its’ species to become domesticated, but as a result their destiny was precluded by many human friendly, inherent characteristics such as their attractive appearance, small size, social and affectionate nature, their love of play / hunting and a recognisable level of intelligence, all of which combined with an innate tameness, to make them ideal human companions.

So it was that after two more millennia have passed, cats had evolved from convenient rodent catchers, to cult status. The feline had, (it is believed) through natural inclination and selective breeding, become the helpmeet and companion of humans; and the Egyptians have long since welcomed them into their homes. And beyond being a pet, the cat was worshipped as a truly sacred animal and as a species had its’ very own Goddess – Bastet or Bast.

In the history of Eqyptian worship, Bastet appears as either a fierce lioness or a woman with the head of a lioness. The lioness was known as the fiercest hunter in the African animal kingdom, hunting as she did, in co-operative groups of related females.

Originally Bastet was viewed as a protector goddess. Over time and with the waxing and waning of the royal dynasties and their deity preferences, her worship also waxed and waned. Yet when domesticated cats became an every day part of Egyptian life, Bastet began to be represented as a woman with the head of a cat and ultimately emerged as the quintessential Egyptian cat.

Cats were adored in life and the vast graves full of mummified feline remains attest to their status in death. The Egyptians relegated their revered deified pets to remain in their own country and did not allow them across their borders. Yet cats still crossed those borders, being secretly traded, and so spread across South East Asia and into India.

The Romans, as travellers and conquerors of so much of the world, absorbed the cult of the cat in to their Empire. Whilst cats were highly revered in ancient Egypt, the Romans evolved this admiration, considering the feline to be their God of Liberty. Cats were in fact, the only animals allowed in to Roman temples. They were often also kept as mascots by the Roman army. And as a result, when the Romans conquered Britain, they brought the domestic cat with them, and into our pagan lives.

Our sea faring ancestors of more recent centuries took cats with them to the colonies, and so our feline friends found their way to America, Australia and much of the rest of the world too.

So it is that cats have a long history of being worshipped and adored by man, woman and child. May be this explains their inherent self satisfaction – it has been bred into them, marching through their DNA, from then, till today.

And for all this, the modern day moggy that sleeps by your side has changed very little in body or instinct from his ancestors of ancient millennia. Compare a striped tabby to an African Jungle cat and what you will see, is familiarity. Restricting breeding stock has encouraged beautiful coats, colourings and other managed characteristics such as the blue eyes of my own pedigree Birman – George. However – most domesticated cats still have all the instincts and capabilities needed to succeed in the ‘wild’, or in the streets, or where ever fate or their inclination may pitch them.

Yet compare a Chihuahua to a wolf and see the gulf from a dog’s ancestor to the present day; the modern canine being so often mutated into something physically unrecognisable from its’ ancient sire.

Something instead, has stabilised the cat’s evolution; perhaps that it is already perfect and perfectly adapted, having solid feline genetics that have confounded the world it regally inhabits.

And despite history and black cat witch hunts, felines have remained with us, even serving human kind in the First World War – sniffing out poisonous gas in the murderous muddy trenches, and being stationed on war ships to root out rats.

So as for thousands of years we have chosen to co-habit with these creatures, then as we have observed them, created a sympathetic symbiosis then small wonder that having worshipped them, we now have so much to learn from them…

PS: My reference sources include: the Wikipedia and Cats Protection League websites; many books read; many years spent in observation; many hours spent in speculation, and needless to say – in wonder of, cats…

What Cats Teach Us About Life: How to be a LION…

February 21, 2015February 21, 2015 Sandra Love Letters Blogging, Cats, DISC, kittens, lion, personality, Writing

Number 21 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

I commenced this blogging challenge with the intention of playing around with some concepts for a potential book and then, how like me… I start getting ahead of myself… My blog posts are splurges of various themes, concepts and embryonic ideas. And having already published a book, I now know that for me to write the next tome, demands that I grab all these disparate elements and turn them into some sort of sensible structure. The (not yet) book is cat and coaching themed and has gone by various working titles… For the longest time it had the vanity title of ‘Peachey Cats: Lessons in Love Life and Litter’; then the simpler ‘Coaching with Cats’ and most recently, the ‘does what it says on the tin’ title of ‘What Cats Teach Us About Life’.

The (not yet) book is a constantly evolving concept, with various possibilities and opportunities to explore. Today, three quarters of the way through my 28 day blog writing challenge, an idea for a structure, struck me, like these often do, like a soft thunderbolt…

It has arisen out of one of the recurring themes that has come up during this spate of writing, which is that whereas the various aspects of my life (work, dreams, hobbies, interests, etc and so on) used to be compartmentalised; now increasingly they have merged… So it happens that I am currently writing a book about cats, being a coach and about me, weaving in anecdotal strands about my cats, my clients and myself.

The structure will reveal itself all in good time and for today, I will start to add in some of the more major structural elements, even though as yet, they will still lay scattered about, rather like a jigsaw waiting patiently to be pieced together, to create the whole picture…

So the elements of my life that I shall draw together today are personality theories and cats. I doubt very much whether I shall be either the first or last writer ever to do this, but I know I shall be the only one ever (I trust), to include four particular cats called George, Sophia, Taz and Whiskers as my muses and (four pawed) metaphors.

I shall now start on the Personality Piece: I am a qualified Occupational Tester, which means that I have been trained in and practised, for an incessantly long time, a number of inventories that assess a number of things, including personality traits, aptitudes and emotional intelligence. Much as I love to think that I intrinsically know people and can quickly get their measure, I have found the use of such tools invaluable, not least because they provide a model for measurement, comparison and discussion that can be used in many and various ways, not least as a coach.

One of the tools I use most often is the DISC personality assessment system. The letters stand for what are regarded as the four main personality traits – Dominance, Influence, Steadiness, and Compliance. I shall now be promulgating ‘DISCC’ – or DISC for Cats, since, as well as personality assessment, I also have extensive experience in the field of cat guardianship (not ownership – you never own a cat) and I now shall be combining the personality and the puss.

The first trait in the DISC model is Dominance and the first cat in The Pride is George, so it is natural that one should signify the other. In the cat world this trait is firmly and fairly represented by The Lion.

So how does George demonstrate the facets of being the Dominant Lion? Firstly, despite his fluffy, charming exterior, he clearly regards himself as both the Head and Alpha Male of the Pride. Lions easily can turn on their strong directed charm, if it gets them what they want. Of all the cats in the Cave, George has the most dog like, ‘standing in his own power’ characteristics. The phrase that most fits him is, ‘I want it my way’ – not yours, not theirs’, but my way and mine alone. George is very exacting in his wants – he wants the best sleeping spot (next to me), he expects to lead, never to follow and even it if is dinner time – that or the mere fact that the other cats are starving, is of no consequence – he will demand to be fed, when he wants to be fed, not led by minor dinner dictates set by the rest of us in The Pride.

George is a ‘what?’ cat. He always wants to know what is going on – and always insinuating himself into my coaching sessions, or my reading, or writing and what ever else is going on in the Cave and basically taking charge, just like any lion.

His focus is always about ‘now’. He wants what ever he wants right here and now. I may have a fourteen inch screen laptop perched squarely on my lap, but such an obstacle will never stop him if he has decided he wants to lay across my legs. Rebuffals will be met with a persistent nonchalance and an utter determination to get to his goal.

It is not about the anticipation with the leonine George, he is instead, motivated by getting things done / completed / sorted – all as they should be, which is always as he decrees.

When it comes to decisions, he is all about the impulse – what ever is the quickest thing that will get him to where he wants to be. And the timing for that destination, will always be now. Lock him out of the bedroom where I and the sweetest sleeping spot is, and he will loudly yowl his right to have that door opened for and to him. Like the lion he is, he will keep on yowling, until he gets his result. Put him under stress or duress, and suddenly the Cave becomes an Autocracy – and George will take charge and deal with the situation. He will ensure that he gets the result he wants – even if that means that he has to be aggressive in pursuing his point – as any unwarranted human or feline who breaches the confines of the cave will attest. He will doggedly pursue any intruders and see off the cat sized ones in an instant. The human sized ones will be swiftly sussed out and then quickly either accepted or rejected – placed in their Pride order and so acknowledged or dismissed.

So that is the DISC personality theory according to George. And George being the lion that he is, knows exactly what he needs to know about all that… The Lion has roared…

What Cats Teach Us About Life – How to find the Gift in Good Bye

February 20, 2015February 20, 2015 Sandra Love Letters Blogging, Cats, kittens, pet bereavement

Number 20 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

Beyond The Peachey Pride of three cats and my human self, there is a continuum of and connection to many other cats… There are the cats who are a part of friend’s lives; there are the many images I see on Social media; and there are the memories of many cats, living and passed on that I have known over a life time shared with them.

And amongst the many memories I have, are some stored away about a delicious little she cat called ‘Peanut’. She lived with my ex boy friend Cliff and she was a true gem of gorgeous girl. Peanut’s major trait was her sweet stupidity – hence her name, since her brain was as small as the proverbial nut… She never seemed to understand commands, tried to walk through (rather than over or round) objects and generally / happily seemed to have a low cat IQ. And no one ever minded this, since she was so sweet tempered and good natured, that what ever she may have lost in cat-like cleverness, she always absolutely gained in childish charm.

When I moved in with Cliff I knew that Peanut had a limited time to live. She was an old lady by then and her kidneys were gradually failing her. We charted her decline with sad hearts and then one day, came the awful day when she left – us and life, aided by the vet who came to our home. Quickly and quietly she died in the arms of two people she loved. I reflected at the time that it was a good way to go, but still I remember that it was a few years before I could think of that furry little friend of mine without feeling tearful.

That first horrible shock of loss has now slowly transmogrified over time into warm and happy memories… And Peanut is not the first cat lost from my life and she probably will not be the last, so I wanted to write a love letter to her and all the other feline companions from my past and future, for myself and my friends and for any one who will read this, who has ever lost a beloved pet in recent or long lived ago time.

Dear Loved One

You are gone. No more here in flesh and fur. Never to be by my side, ever again. Never to rub against my legs, to meow for food or love, nor to purr and gently paw at me.

It is time, greatly to grieve, and to let out my tears, allowing my sorrow its’ way out of my soul. Time to be sad. Time to just feel loss and lost.

It is a sweet, deep, natural thing, the love for an animal, for not tied by human complications or obligations, it fills a special sweet part of the heart with it’s own best kind of pureness and simplicity. With it gone, there is a sudden breach of sense and place as there is with all types of loss.

Along with loss, it is time too to celebrate you – to give thanks for knowing you and to thank you for being in my life.

So what was so special about you? Let me remember the myriad ways.

You my friend, were a gift from and a creature of, God. All of you magnificent creatures, in what ever pet form you take (cat, dog, rabbit, goldfish, mouse, etc, etc) are on loan to us lucky humans. That you were on loan for what feels like too short time feels hard to bear.

But what a gift you were and are my friend! I learnt so much from you, got so many purrs and rubs, got so much laughter and pleasure and so now I want to choose your loving legacy.

So… you were a gorgeous gift tied up with proverbial red ribbon (and you being you, the ribbon wouldn’t stay on for long…).

You were a kitten gift to me – a fluffy ball of wonder and laughter, of teases and scratches, off mewing and purring.

As a gift from God, you were on life loan to me and such a gorgeous present in so many feline ways, showing me how to live life constantly in glorious cat techni-colour, matching the colours and tones of your fascinating fur.

You were so many things to me – so giving, loving and deliciously capricious. You padded along the lanes of life with me, leaping and sleeping through it with your easy grace and soothing purrs.

Now matter how long we were together, it feels like you were taken from life too soon. Too soon for us, any way. Is that fair for any one? That is what I have felt, but not what I know, when I think with love of where we are. For me, the most comforting knowing is that you had your time. That was the thing about you my friend, it was always YOUR time and so thank you, so much for giving it to me. That is indeed a very rare gift.

I am allowing myself time to grieve and be sad, for that honours what I felt for you, my furry friend. Because you gave me so much, I feel so much now. Yet I shall celebrate you too. To rejoice in the distinct spark of living light that you were.

And, my Little One, what ever any one thinks about what is next, nothing changes that I knew you, that you will stay in me and with me for ever, and that you made such a marvellous difference to me. Yes you, sweet friend, were and are a true giving gift.

I miss you so much and constantly think that you are near, but the body was just one part of you, so farewell to that one physical element of you, my little lion… the gorgeous, perfect gift from God that you are, were and will always will be, to me.

With love, strokes and scritches…

From me xx

PS: Some time later Cliff and I parted company, yet I am always grateful for the gift of Peanut the cat in my life and I can never thank him enough for the fact that he also gave me the present of my perfect puss, the lucky black cat that is Taz, too.

How to Love Like a Cat

February 19, 2015February 19, 2015 Sandra Love Letters Blogging, Cats, kittens, love

Number 19 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

George, as ever, is helping me to blog…

Real Time Writing: I was just settling down to write this latest blog at my office / come sofa, when I was interrupted by the attentions and ministrations of my cat George. He has decided that right now is the absolutely perfect time for lashings of affection and that my lap is the only place in this world that he wants to occupy. He wishes to lay upon my legs, purr loudly and look adoringly into my eyes. And given the theme of this blog, I didn’t really feel that I could refuse – so instead of rebuffing George’s advances and occupying my lap with a laptop, I have perched my IPad (other tablets are available) on the sofa arm instead; and am now precariously typing away with one hand, whilst loving and fussing my demanding feline friend with the other.

And so George has left my lap, so now it is time to continue on my laptop and start the blog ‘proper’… The title of this piece ‘How to Love Like a Cat’ does not refer to the biting, yowling act of procreation promulgated by that species to increase their species. What I will be exploring here, is what we can learn from cats when it comes to feeling, giving and receiving the bounty of love. My cats here will act as a prolonged metaphor to both understand them and the concept of love more deeply, and to learn more about both.

Before we get into the whole romance of life and love with cats, let’s clear up the whole ‘cupboard love’ scenario. Every one needs a cynic in their life and mine is my brother Aidan… I can hear him now: “It’s cupboard love – if some one else fed them, they would love someone else”…

I understand his point and actually I see the truth in it, yet my whole truth is that the provision of food is the starting point of my relationship with the members of The Peachey Pride. They also get shelter. They also receive and give affection. Finally, they have the freedom to leave and still they choose to stay.

And is it really any different in the human world? Why do we love some one? Is it because fate has randomly thrown them in our path? Or because they pay us more attention and spend more time with us than the rest of the world? Is it because we share our similarities and possibly even celebrate our differences? Or because they are attracted to us and we to them? Could it be because they feed us in any number of ways – in the cupboard love way, or in a nurturing or stimulating way? These are just some of the many sweet little mysteries of the whole feeling phenomena of love.

So what can we learn from my four legged metaphors? The first thing I really appreciate is that when any of my cats are ‘feeling the love’, they express the emotion unreservedly – they let you know in no uncertain terms just how they are feeling. They meow, they knead away at you (like a kitten does its’ birth mother), and they want to be completely up close and personal. And then they purr out their rampant and uninhibited pleasure that you are having a gorgeous loving moment with them.

Unlike my cats, for a long time I found it really difficult to even say ‘I love you’ to any one, let alone demonstrate it in any other way. I would play games and pretend that love was something that I never felt; all as a protection over the soft creamy centre of my heart. The odd thing is that I found that I never really could mitigate against that same heart being hurt, by either covering it up or leaving it open to the elements. Yet what I also discovered is that, just like my cats, I have a never ending well of love that I can draw up on. I even wrote and published an entire book about the subject of love and how you can see it in any one and any happening – no matter how happy or horrible; and still I could write another library full of such books, for love is long…

As well as demanding love – cats are clever at giving and receiving it too. All the members of The Pride will seek me out, at different times of the day… Sophia loves her love and cuddles in the morning time (and in real time writing, on cue as I write this, she has just leapt up onto the sofa and is now at my side, placing a front paw on my leg and purring out her pleasure). Taz, of long kittenish habit, loves a fuss and a purring hug just before bed time; and George will pursue me at all hours, devouring my attention, feeling my presence and showing me his constant devotion.

All my cats give love beautifully and they receive it gorgeously as well. Reach out to them at any time of day, and they will graciously and joyously receive your adoring attention, your affection, and your soft words of worship. This is something that I have learnt well too. Where for so long I rejected and rebuffed, now I receive; and allowing myself to receive means that I receive even more love back and more often, when ever I make a loving connection – easier, both on myself and on those I form a bond with – be that for a second or an eternity…

There has long been an urban legend that the cat is a lonesome, independent creature and I know that I thought that of myself in history, too. The reality is, that most cat species in the wild live in family groups. They hunt together, take care of young, form bonds and favourites. Their thriving therefore has an instinctual centre in a Pride mentality and most perfectly, this manifests itself in ritual and deliberate acts of love. And as always I could stray into anthropomorphic territory here, so suffice to say, that cats will love in their way, not in some poetically ascribed version or twist that I could put on to their behaviours and favours towards me.

And still I will analyse what makes this human / feline combination of love so special… For me, because they are loving animals, the complexities that colour so many human relationships are stripped away and what we have together is a more primordial bond, some thing as deep as nature, something that is pure, easy, and endless.

Because of all this I used to joke that I was planning to become a mad old cat lady, who would die one day surrounded by her 22 cat soul mate. It seemed easier some how to laugh my way to a future that I could populate and control, and make full of feline love.

It’s an old joke now. I don’t intend to be an old maid, made just for the company of cats. I’m creating my own alternate loving reality for now and then, because that is another lesson I have learnt from my feline friends – how to live and love life to the full.

Well… that and the fact that I have discovered that a Pride of just three cats is truly enough for this loving woman…

What Cats Teach Us About Life: To Thine Own Self Be True

February 18, 2015 Sandra Love Letters

Number 18 out of 28: This piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Coach and Writer Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

Today feels like a real milestone in my blog challenge… I have reached the two thirds point and have just ten blogs left to go… So when I had that realisation, I had a little moment of celebration; and then, inevitably (for me anyway), this happy thought sent me in to a minor panic and I wondered what on earth I would find to write about next… Fortunately I know my patterns of old and had already splurged out a number of ideas onto paper some time ago… So “yah boo sucks to you” fear… It is, most definitely, time to celebrate and, of course, time to write…

So here I am spilling out all my silly stuff (again), and sharing my secret trivial thoughts; when instead I could just present you with a nicely polished version of my reality, along with a glossy take on cats and what life lessons we can learn from them… Because, as it happens, I love polish and finish and professionalism, and I also like things to be ‘just so’ – you know?

Love sounds like a strong word, and in fact let me make a thing of the past and say that I ‘loved’ these things. But for me, such things have turned out to be a not so shiny gloss on reality. In as much, they are not my truth, for I am in fact human and very good at being human too – in the sense of what I am sorely tempted to call my weaknesses, but which I will actually call my vulnerabilities instead… Polish and gloss is all very well if you can constantly carry it off, but in my case it is simply a varnishing over the cracks (of who I am), which with a tarnished inevitability, nearly always has a habit of some how resurfacing.

And this all includes how I come across, what I do in the public view, etc. So even the fact that I am writing about my own cats – a subject which I know and love, irks me to a degree… It is far too trivial, surely to be discoursing on the feline, when there are deeper and more meaningful issues that I could be pursuing? Yet cats are an every day reality for me, and so I can use them to draw quiet metaphors, to learn their lessons, and to teach myself, and then may be more people, easily… and well… the idea for this cat prose has been sitting in my brain for a long while, so I have decided to let it all out of the box now; and then maybe I can save the world next month…

So back to being polished and professional… I have written in previous posts about how I used to segment my life into many pieces, all the better to control them and pick them off, one at a time. At work, I pretty much wore a black mask of ‘me’ – not revealing too much of myself, playing my cards close to my chest and generally playing the role of a professional, got together career person.

At some point though, the real me would show through and often it would be disastrous – I’d some how muck up and trip up, and there would be reprisals and often tears. Fundamentally I wasn’t living as my real self or being in my truth. I was in fact, doing what I thought was right, rather than being who I really was.

It isn’t always easy being your real, naked, take or leave it, warts and all, self… And like most modes of living it has its’ pros and cons. It is something I am getting better at with practice, but also something I would like to do even more of. So if I am to get really good at this being ‘more of myself’ thing, then I really ought to be thinking ‘cat’…

Cats certainly have the edge when it comes to definitive authenticity. They are of course animals, born without guile or guise. Even so, they still learn wiles and wisdom. Because never be fooled, even a cat can put on an act.

Just ask any household where more than one person has responsibility for feeding the felines therein. My own is a case in point. Person Number One (AKA me) will feed the crowd of demanding, wide eyed, starving moggies. The cats, now apparently sated, will curl up and go to sleep, and so Person Number One can leave The Cave, safe in the knowledge that all have been provided for. Person Number Two (my housemate Pia) will then enter the premises and immediately be assailed by a team of wide awake, seemingly starving cat creatures, urging and insisting that they must be fed now.

And as for all those well cared for cats that work the system, and who go out into the world to beg from any random soft hearted human that thinks they are doing a felicitous thing for a feline – let’s please not go there!

For a cat, such an act is a survival mechanism to feed whilst there is plenty; and I can see that the masks and guises I used to wear, were pretty much for the self same survival reason. Or so I perceived…

Whereas a cat generally lives its’ truth, acts on its’ own desires / instincts, and in doing so follows its’ own path; I had to have a happy mid life crisis, and leave the world of corporate work for a while to (oh go on, I’ll cliché say it), find my self.

I left, trained to be a Coach and set up my own business, mainly so that I could be more of myself in what I do, more easily. For I have found that as I move through life, being me is the easiest thing I can ever do (though it is sometimes scary) and that my success ultimately comes from being ‘real’, rather than playing any part in a ‘play’ where the script has been written by some one else. Often some one who doesn’t really understand me and how to get the best out of me, rather than the most out of me, at that.

Interesting though, that after a while I missed the corporate world (for a number of reasons) and so I went back to it, and have incorporated it back into my life and the work I now do. In doing so, I can sometimes live a dichotomy – I am very clear about who I am and what I bring to the table, but I still, of necessity, have other people’s expectations to live up to and structures to knit in with. And sometimes as a result, I have not fitted in, and at others, I have fitted a mould – marvellously, if not conventionally…

And so now, when I go back to thinking cat, I see that they are free in the way that they treat life; they live it to the full capacity of their being. Cats are, at their core, being entirely true to themselves, and being the smug, got together creatures that they are, are very good at it too. All this and these sage beasts get to sleep for a vast proportion of their existence too! I can see that all of my cats definitely sleep for their success, and this particular aspect of leonine logic is something I am still working on…

As such, I have only recently ceased to deny that I am a work in progress, but at least, like a cat, I will work it all out, in my own way…

PS: Did you know that a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, cats and all? I’m completely biased of course, but it makes a purrfect present, whether you be a cat lover or no. All of human life is in this gorgeous book – all the fear, light, dark, and of course love, for any one who wants to be entertained and to know that they are not alone in life, what ever it holds for you… You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ from book websites any where in the world, including Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)…

A kitten called Sophia or… that cucking fat…

February 17, 2015 Sandra Love Letters

Number 17 out of 28; this piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

It is day 17 of my Blog Challenge and time to introduce you to Cat Number Three – the youngest of the pride – Sophia.

Where to start with Sophia? How can I define her when she is so many things? Well… during her time in The Cave, I have called her many things too… and not always polite ones…

I have been known to yell ‘you little shit’ at her, when she was in every sense, being one… And whilst all the members of The Pride (including me of course) have their ‘moments’; for a long time, Sophia seemed to have the most and worse, moments of us all…

I remember relaying her early evil exploits to a friend who had never met her in the furry flesh, and she responded ‘oh go on, she’s just being a kitten’. And when I further said that I was seriously thinking of returning her (to the cat charity from whence she came), I was met with incredulity – ‘you wouldn’t, surely..?’ Well, of course I could, and clearly I never did, yet I came very close, on a number of occasions…

So why would such a diminutive creature be causing such a big kerfuffle? Well, if she wasn’t destroying the carpets, or the furniture, or throwing soil out of plant pots, then she was raking my skin with her hooky claws, or exasperating the life out of the two elder cats. When she wasn’t asleep, she would be constantly crashing through the cat flap, backwards and forwards, for hours at a time – bashing out one minute, crashing in the next. And whereas most kittens I know, know how to use a litter tray, she preferred instead to piss and pooh in the corner of the living room / or on my bed, and then I would spend hours scouring out stains and trying to chase away and erase the rancid stench which would hang around for weeks infecting my sensitive nose.

If she wasn’t pleading piteously for food, she was eating us out of house and home. She has a mega metabolism which means that she can happily consume many times her own body weight, but since she is so slim and slight, her body weight is actually negligible…

All of the cats hunt to some degree. But with Sophia it is a constant sport and she likes to bring her catches home, into The Cave, so I have the constant chore of clearing up dead bodies, mopping smears of blood off the floor and attempting to chase and catch escaped victims, without getting clawed or bitten. (And in this I have failed, having been bitten by rodents several times – thank goodness that my tetanus jabs are up to date…). One of her favourite kills are shrews, and she likes to secret them round the living room. I can only assume that she is saving them for later. Saving them for what, I cannot imagine, but for such a tiny creature, a dead shrew gives off a highly recognisable and almighty stink…

Oh yes… That transposition of a ‘cucking fat’!

Still, despite all the crap and cadavers, this mischievous little Miss is still here, because at some point I decided that this tiny little scrap of a cat could either be my nemesis, or else she could be my teacher… And the name Sophia as it turns out, means ‘wisdom’…

Sophia’s lessons for me have been manifold. And one of the biggest things she has taught me, is patience. It is, I have to say, a virtue I have, for much of my life, been some what lacking in… Yet with patience Sophia and I have achieved a lot… I created and reinforced rules and boundaries for her, which she ignored at first, and yet, as I persisted over time, she started to take notice and slowly, we grew in to each other.

It was a simple lesson in relationships – I did my thing by setting the rules and, annoyingly she did her thing by doing anything and everything else. My ‘thing’ was to train, to tell off and to teach the ways of The Cave. Her thing was to fling her thing every where, skit about the house at a thousand miles an hour, ignore my orders and cause a feline furore.

Still, I am the hu-mamma – the responsible adult in this relationship, and so, after accepting her for who and what she was – I persisted with supplying her boundaries; I learnt her little ways and as a result, was able to ‘meet her in the middle’. And some how, over time, we just grew together. I grew wiser and calmer, and she grew up and calmed down.

And when you really know Sophia, there is an awful lot to love about her. It isn’t just that gorgeous grey, tawny, peachy and patched fur either. She is a very engaging little creature, and of all The Pride, she loves to ‘talk’ the most. She squeals, mews and chirrups constantly. She also loves to chat, so we conduct regular conversations, where I pose existential questions and she responds – always agreeing, very loudly and passionately, with what ever I have to say (I do so love slavish agreement and devotion…).

She is easy and quick to purr, and her signature sound is composed of a symphony of sonic layers, imbued with myriad levels of meaning, and resonating with trills and arias.

Sophia also has the attractive trait of being a living, breathing squeak toy… Just squeeze her slightly, in the middle of her soft body, and she always, satisfyingly, squeals her pleasure at your rogue attention.

So – my little ‘Sopherella’ – the kitten rescued from a smelly old sofa in some one’s garden, was worth all the effort that I both made of her and then for her. And whilst I love an easy life; since life with Sophia felt so hard, for so long; some how, the sweet relationship that we have now as a result, is incredibly special. That which was so hard won, is just so absolutely wonderful.

And, Sophia meaning ‘wisdom’, is well and truly all that – for me…

PS: Did you know that a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, cats and all? I’m completely biased of course, but it makes a purrfect present, for you or the cat lover in your life… You can buy it from book websites any where in the world, including Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)…

Taz the Teddy Bear Cat, teaches the life skill of Flexibility…

February 16, 2015 Sandra Love Letters adaptability, Blogging, Cat, Cats, flexibility, kittens

Number 16 out of 28; this piece is part a Blog Challenge to write and publish a post, every day of the 28 days of February 2015, from Sandra Peachey – the author of ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’.

It is Day 16 of my February Blog Challenge and despite the fact that we are now over half way through, I promised several days ago to effect some introductions… So far I have just (formally anyway) introduced you to my Number One Cat – George. Now it is the turn of my next feline friend, and whilst I would also claim to have a poor memory (since it seems that I am forgetting my manners), let me start to put that social faux pas straight and introduce you to Number Two Cat – Taz.

Now the Numbers denote only the order into which my marvellous moggies came into my life; they in no way delineate their ranking or the degree to which any of them is loved. I couldn’t actually love any of the cats of The Pride any more or less – for one of the many splendours of love, is that you love differently, every time, with every one…

And so to Number Two Cat: Ladies and Gentlemen, please say hello to Taz, a beautiful boy, covered by a coat of long black fur, but definitely not black or bleak in personality.

He is, in the furry flesh – a living, loving, breathing teddy bear of a cat. So when a Polish friend of mine told me that the word for teddy bear in her native language is ‘Misiu’ (pronounced ‘me-shoo’), then this naturally became Taz’s nick name. It also means a cute and cuddly personage, and my Taz-zy boy is all that too.

When ever I return to the Cave, love and social decorum dictates that all my cats are greeted in turn with a hello and a humo-feline hug. When it is Taz’s turn, I pick him up, and this despite the fact that he weighs a proverbial ton. To hold him is like draping a soft, furry hod of bricks over your right shoulder. But that heaviness melts into a solid hunk of love, as he stretches out in purring, nuzzling pleasure, and we are lost, for a few seconds, in an adoring connection of female and feline affection. Then reality and gravity weigh back in, the loving burden becomes too heavy and so I put him back down on the ground, with all four paws on the floor again.

Down at ground level Taz then leaves me in no doubt as to where he wants this relationship to go next. He demands to be fed. So after the formalities are over, what ever the time of day (or night) he tries to guide me to the area of the kitchen where the feeding bowls reside (since he knows I have a bad memory and that I may have forgotten).

Guiding aside, he will also try to stare a meal out of you. He has the hugest pair of green gimlet eyes, which he can widen and intensify at will, turning them on you, to bore into you like two lightening laser beams.

Taz, in common with most cats has a survival instinct which means that he and the others of The Pride will flexibly and happily take food from where ever it is offered, meaning that Taz and all the cats will guzzle their grub from any source in the house, be that a human house mate, friend or whom so ever.

Taz though takes this to a whole new level. Our cave acquired a new human house mate a couple of months ago, called Pia. She is an early riser and offered, almost immediately, to feed the marauding moggies of The Pride when ever I am not around. Not being a morning person, I am almost never around first thing…

As well as being an early riser, Pia tends to go early to bed, and firmly closes her bedroom door against the world. Taz will then almost invariably stand (or I should say sleep) guard – curling up tightly, to snore – by that same door; waiting out the long, dark hours until she rises and is ready to feed him again, or else trip over him on the way to the bath room…

Taz has that flexible feline trait of learning quickly and taking action there on, in abundance. It is a characteristic which has served the domestic cat and their wild forebears well. I once read in fact, that it is this flexibility which has made Felis Catus – the tamed cat we are all familiar with, one of the most adaptable and therefore successful of domesticated creatures.

And it is this flexibility that is one of the fundamental lessons that Taz teaches me. I like to think that in a world full of flux, I can constantly evolve and easily adapt. And when like Taz I accept change, I can then most easily make the necessary changes to cope and then to thrive.

When I am inflexible and entrenched instead, that, so often is when difficulties arise. It is when situations and life get harder. Despite all my life’s work and personal development, there are still times when I bemoan my fate or my choices or what impact some one else’s actions are having on me. It is like having my feet stuck in setting concrete – even though I can shout and wave my arms around, when I refuse to accept and adapt, it means that I am well and truly fixed to one, solid spot.

Flexing my flexibility muscles sometimes takes some effort – I have a life time of pre-disposition and experience at my disposal after all. Yet if I can be flexible in my thoughts and my approaches, then it follows that I will naturally start to have more choices. To ‘think cat’ in this instance is to accept, then flex and adapt and in doing so, learn more deeply and move on more quickly. And then, I will find that the concrete boots holding me painfully down, have started to dissolve and will invariably crumble to dust, and I will find myself free and bare footed – always my favourite way to travel.

And Taz, for all his fine feline intelligence is still a simple, kitten soul, who values, food, independence, and also I am delighted to say – love. He gives and receives of love in its’ most simple, unaffected and affectionate guise.

So Taz really is, in my completely inflexible opinion, the most magnificent of lucky black cats…