The weather in the wild west Highlands of Scotland is capricious, and very often changes rapidly. So Algy was not altogether surprised when a dreary grey day was followed by one of glorious sunshine, and he was delighted to see that at last the February sun was strong enough to persuade the crocuses to open their flowers and smile at him.
Although it did not get as cold around Algy's home as it did in many of the places where his friends lived, the winter was nevertheless horribly long and dreary… and decidedly limiting… and like many other folk, Algy was now longing for warmer days when he would be able to get out and about adventuring again.
But despite the sunshine, the temperature was still very low, and the weather unreliable, so Algy satisfied himself for the moment by selecting a particularly sunny spot beside some of the beautiful, glowing crocuses, and indulging in some light and entertaining reading, which he dedicates especially to those of his friends who keep cats 🐈😀
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots. All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat; She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. And when all the family's in bed and asleep, She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep. She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice— Their behaviour's not good and their manners not nice; So when she has got them lined up on the matting, She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting. I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots. All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat: She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet, She is sure it is due to irregular diet; And believing that nothing is done without trying, She sets right to work with her baking and frying. She makes them a mouse—cake of bread and dried peas, And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese. I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots. She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that's smooth and flat: She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment. So she's formed, from that lot of disorderly louts, A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts, With a purpose in life and a good deed to do— And she's even created a Beetles' Tattoo. So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers— On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.
[Algy is reading the poem The Old Gumbie Cat from the collection Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by the 20th century English poet T S Eliot.]
