Personal and undiluted views
Kitosh

154 days ago

Considering grief and mourning: is Yasmin Alibhai-Brown the most poisonous woman in Britain?

Nobody knows how they will react to death or to the possibility that a loved one is slipping away – I did not cry at the funeral of my father or as I sat by his bed as he died. I had shed a few tears a few days earlier as I sat in his room with him, lying there in a sleep which could only end one way. I cried buckets at the funeral of my grandmother and also when my cat Kitosh died suddenly. At the funeral of Uncle Chris Booker I think I had a moist eye, nothing more. Does that mean I loved my cat more than my father? Of course not. Grief and knowing you may be close to losing someone hits us in different ways and it is, or should be, a private matter. That brings us to, arguably, the most poisonous woman in Britain today.

---

822 days ago

Photo Article: Oakley's cousins arrive at the Welsh Hovel

Since the sad demise of my once morbidly obese three legged cat Oakley late last summer, my two year old son Joshua has not stopped talking about his friend who used to sleep by his cot, keeping watch every night. Our old house in Bristol is “Oakley’s House” and while you and I know that the old boy lies at rest next to the body of Kitosh and across the yard from that of his long time companion Tara who is under the rhubarb, Joshua and his mother and I have agreed that the three legged one has “gone to the jungle” where he is happy. But there is a gap in all of our lives anmd so yesterday we told Joshua we had a treat.

---

1041 days ago

Photo article - the burial of Oakley

The lady at the vet called during last week and in a very sweet and sympathetic manner said that the ashes of the King of cats, the late Oakley, were ready for collection. And so on Saturday morning I drove to the cat hospital and said who I was and why I was there. "Would you like to settle your account before collecting?" said a mean faced old shrew. It was not a question.

---

1048 days ago

Oakley Funeral date set – The Mrs has a book on the death of Mog for me to read to Joshua

Amid a flurry of calls on various matters including an invitation to meet the new Headmaster at Warwick School tomorrow to discuss Geoffrey Eve and another abuser from the "good old days" - a matter on which I have received shocking new information overnight- I have received a call from the vets. The ashes of the King of Cats, Oakley, are in an urn and ready for collection.

---

1056 days ago

RIP Oakley 2001 to 2018

As if the Mrs has not suffered enough during the past five years, today she has the unenviable task of explaining to our, almost, two year old son Joshua why, when they arrive back in Bristol there will be no Oakley to greet them. For yesterday afternoon, Oakley went to a better place.

---

1090 days ago

Poor Oakley, once morbidly obese now just skin and bones

It was not that long ago that my three legged cat Oakley tipped the scales at over 6 kg and was, rightly, described as morbidly obese. The vet warned us that he must diet. It is so very different now.

---

1689 days ago

The feral kitten at the greek Hovel who looked like Kitosh is now resident as a magnificent cat

It was in the summer of 2015, I think, that I made the acquaintance of a feral kitten at the Greek Hovel. The timid little thing was terrified of humans but I managed to persuade it to take a few saucers of milk. I did so because I love cats and who cannot love a sweet little kitten? I also thought how much it looked like Kitosh, pictured, the cat I owned before Oakley. And there was self interest at play as well.

---

2278 days ago

Oakley Health Scare – A costly Silver Lining for me

I had a routine doctor’s appointment at 11 and was dreading it. “How much do you drink? Do you know smoking is bad for you?” “No doc, when I said a bottle I meant a day not a week and no is it? When did they find that out?” But I was spared this little treat by Oakley, my morbidly obese three legged cat who started screaming at 10.40 and then showed himself unable to walk. His sole back leg was just being dragged along the floor.

I thought back to the demise of poor Kitosh, my old cat who behaved in this way as

---

2360 days ago

Tara, the capitalist cat, makes her video debut as Oakley slumbers on

Tara, who makes her video debut below, may not be related to Oakley but the two have lived together for all of their 13 years. She may be sleek and slim but she is the capitalist cat. Oakley does nothing all day and is thus sometimes referred to as Benefits Street. Tara believes that Greed is Good and thus eats far more than Oakley either from her food bowl or by snacking on human food whenever she can grab it. I guess she has a higher metabolic rate than Oakley and she also takes plenty of exercise patrolling the garden.

I first met the two of them in the Isle of Man after the sudden death of my previous cat Kitosh. His ashes travelled with me in the years that followed and are now buried in a wooden cat shaped urn underneath a newly planted thyme bush at the bottom of our Garden in Brislington.

At the MSPCA sanctuary as I wandered along seeking a replacement for Kitosh the sweet young kittens grabbed all the attention. But in one cage there were two much older cats Tara and Oakley. Well I was told there were two. Oakley 

---

2720 days ago

The final journey for Kitosh (my old cat)

Kitosh came to me as a kitten and had a varied life in Islington, Shoreditch, France and finally in the Isle of Man. I remember well the Paris to Douglas train, taxi, train, train, ferry and taxi journey we made together. His sudden death in Douglas a few years ago was a real blow. His ashes have travelled with me since then but have remained for almost two years in a wooden urn hidden at Real Man Pizza in Clerkenwell. Now his final journey begins.

Born on a council estate in Walthamstow he would not have imagined that he would have been so well travelled. But the travelling is now over.

Now that I have a sense of permanence, the Mrs and I have agreed that Kitosh’s urn can be buried in our garden underneath the fig tree. We are not sentimental enough to contemplate some grand ceremony. It will just be the Mrs watching as I dig a deep hole and in goes the urn. The tree marks the spot.

During some years of upheaval for me Kitosh was the one constant in my life and a portrait of him already hangs in the new house as a reminder of that. I am not sure the Mrs is that impressed but she has let it go.  So this weekend it is the final farewell, RIP Kitosh my good friend.

---