Tag Archives: Mythos

RAKI – ALWAYS ON TOP OF THINGS

With all the attention recently seeming to focus on the latest furry additions to the household, some of you have been asking if the other cats have been sidelined.

Hardly! Retsina and Ouzo are now almost twelve, and still as standoffish to the other cats as ever – they spend most of their time on various beds and armchairs these days. Mythos is ten, doing perfectly fine considering the poor prognosis he was given as a desperately ill kitten and Raki is nine.

While ‘Sina, Ooze and Mythos are beginning to show age, with Ouzo in particular being quite arthritic, the little white horror is just as lively and demanding as always. He misses nothing, is involved in everything, expresses his opinion loudly and frequently and is absolutely adored by us both. One tries not to have favorites, but….

Remember him?

To this day he seems unaware that he’s a cat and we believe he imprinted on us. He behaves very differently to the others, disdaining all contact with them. He cannot bear to be parted from human company and is extremely inquisitive, always needing to be involved in whatever’s going on. He has an opinion on everything and all but speaks.

Yes, I know we’re besotted, but he’s unique among the scores of cats I’ve ever been owned by.

 

EXTENDED FAMILY?

At last count the number of cats on the property, including our longtime pets Retsina, Ouzo, Mythos and Raki, is now 10. The Cappuccino Twins

and poor little Bud

were here when we arrived back. The twins are permanent residents, as is Brandy, initially called Mama/Papa for we weren’t sure at first what relation he is to the now teenagers.

Some of the original homeless ones have vanished – presumably gone back into Kalamos village as people arrive to take up residence in holiday homes. At least I hope so and it’s not because they have met a grisly end.

We have fortunately managed to trap and neuter two of those remaining, but they are very wary and hardly ever venture out of the forest. They will always be feral as it’s long past the time they could be socialized but at least they won’t reproduce, and are fed.

There’s a third cat, though, who has been coming and going, and had been absent for quite a while. But she, and yes quite obviously it’s a she, bulging with kittens, started showing up again a few weeks ago.

I’d catch glimpses of her at the food bowls, or hear Raki protesting loudly – he is not at all fond of trespassers on his property. The cat’s very nervous and it’s taken me quite a while to even approach her, but hunger clearly reduces her inhibitions, and she’ll eat rapidly while gazing warily about her.

She disappeared again for several days, during which time I became convinced she must have had her kittens, for she had been so heavily pregnant that her belly would drag on the ground while she ate. She has returned, no longer pregnant and absolutely ravenous.

Wouldn’t surprise me if she’s had a large litter, and maybe it’s not her first. Freddie maintains she’s the sister of Bud, the twins and one of the teenagers which has vanished. Could well be the case for the twins aren’t bothered by her and she’s pretty much the same size as them. Same coffee color also, but could she actually be their mother?

She’s come each morning in the last three days. I have to keep a close eye out for her as Mythos is determined that she must leave – he’s rather ugly to her in fact – and so I have to grab and lock him up while she eats, much to his irritation.

What I’m hoping is that she’ll bring the kittens over from wherever she’s hiding them. Then they can be handled and get used to humans, and that means I can get them homes through PAWS

I’ve warned Ron that should there be a tortoiseshell in the litter, it’s mine. I fervently hope so for I’m a devoted fan of the tortie. In fact, I cannot remember a time without a tortie in the household – my Mother adored them also.

Should this cat stay we’ll neuter her as soon as the kittens are weaned, and I suppose she’ll inevitably be named Shandy.

 

GET MY DRIFT?

COMMUNICATION: a process by which information is exchanged between individuals through a common system of symbols, signs, or behavior

As previously mentioned Costa and I do a lot of talking in various combos of Greek and Albanian. He speaks a fair Greek considering he learnt as an adult when he came here from Albania in search of work.

Kids usually learn a new language so much more quickly than adults do, but it’s amazing how much can be communicated by just a few words, and the universal language of hands. Pointing, waving, gesturing help quite a bit to get a point across.

“So,” says Costa, “I cut down your oleanders. That’s upset you?”

“Well, yes, seeing they were flourishing and seemed always to be in bloom.”

“They’ll grow,” asserts Costa, “they needed it.”

“But I didn’t tell you to cut them back,” I respond.

“Well then, cut me down,” he jokes, making ghastly throat cutting actions. “I’m Albanian. We had the Ottomans. We know about that.”

“Stop! Just stop!” I say, shuddering. He’s been making these jokes for years. We used to laugh, but now in the light of recent horrors they can’t even be thought of.  I throw up my hands as we play through the familiar pantomime. “Do what you like, Costa, do what you like.”

He grins and goes off into the garden, whistling.

His cheerful whistling is another form of communication for it usually brings at least one of the cats and dogs running. No words needed. It’s probably also a very polite way of Costa pointing out that he’s won. Again!

When it comes to people trying to communicate in a foreign language it’s invariably a game of hands. Some cultures ‘speak’ with hands more than others though, and family and friends tell me they can tell what language I’m speaking just by watching my hand movements. I’m not conscious of it, I must say, but it’s interesting to know.

The hand raised in greeting is one of the most ancient forms of non-verbal communication. It’s universal, and when accompanied by smiles it’s clearly friendly. The classic STOP hand signal might however have all manner of connotations, from a warning of danger ahead to a very definite “Get the #$!* out of here!” The accompanying body language often establishes the context.

I had a wonderful conversation in Izmir with this lovely fellow and his companions. We laughed, we smiled, we made hand gestures. None of us had the faintest idea what was being said. It didn’t matter a bit. What was being said was that we were having a grand old time just being. They were all such good ambassadors for their country; it’s distressing to think of what’s happening there now.

It’s probably not escaped your notice that I love to knit. And yes, I guess I do go on about it. A bit.  Yarn and needles are a language spoken worldwide. There can’t be many countries where the language of knitting isn’t known, where yarn and its attributes and possibilities are not at the very least a dialect.

I have been fortunate to meet knitters in many countries. We have an instant connection – we communicate instinctively without any words. Non-verbal communication is more than adequate when the topic is knitting. The hands and eyes can explain whatever it is you want to know about a technique.

Diagrams and symbols, yet another form of non-verbal communication, can be jotted down and carried with you to be studied again and again, and can be passed on to others.

Those who speak knitting are often oblivious to the lack of verbal communication. The spoken language barrier is of no consequence. Demonstrations, the show-and-tell and the tactile signals translate without any effort from those participating in the discussion.

I have never failed to make an instant connection with a knitter whose language I do not speak. I have never been treated with anything but the utmost courtesy, delight and enthusiasm. I have been warmly embraced, offered refreshment and have often had a gift pressed upon me.

The hands that show me new ways to knit are the same hands that pat mine approvingly when I master some fabulous new technique. The hands that patiently guide my awkward ones are the same hands that would probably like to shake me as I blunder along.

Without my hands and eyes I am reduced. With only my voice to communicate I would be diminished. This photograph of my friend quite literally in touch with a blind man had me close to tears when I took it. They had no common language, but the gentleman could ‘see’ her, he told me, and could tell she’s a very good woman. Communication with no need for words.

The very, very young typically have enormous eyes, a feature designed to appeal to the protective instincts of adults of that species. That demon Raki is a case in point, and coupled with his pathetic little cries he had no trouble communicating his desperate need for care. We fell for it!

So did Mythos, who communicated a great deal of loving care to the infant Raki, and interesting that he recognized Raki posed no threat to his position as dominant male cat.

Non-verbal forms of communication such as signs and symbols written in some manner on a surface that can be preserved convey information of every conceivable type, in every language from the most ancient to the very latest graffiti.

Nothing new about graffiti though – we’ve been making marks where we shouldn’t for aeons.

Messages can be communicated in coded symbols by various means, as witness the tally of guillotined heads entered into the knitting of the fictional Madame Defarge. The methods of passing on info through symbols range from messages worked into textiles, from smoke signals to flags, from piled up rocks to carvings on trees and from word and number play to fires and flashing lights. Such communications are limited only by man’s imagination, and that the intended recipient must know the code.

Music and dance are modes of communication with roots almost as ancient as man himself.

Dances are often codified forms of expressing the record of a culture, as this example of traditional dance from the Pelion village of Trikeri shows.

Costumes, simple or elaborate, body painting and various markings used by countless peoples throughout recorded history contain information of importance, not only to the group, but to anthropologists and other academics who might be engaged in studying them.

The objects carried by this Archbishop of the Greek Orthodox Church are visual communications, as are the traditional robes, which serve to establish his standing in the hierarchy. These symbols are non-verbal communications of his authority and understood by all who are part of the particular community. So powerful are these symbols that even foreigners understand the implications.

Language and other means of communication have interested me for a long time, ever since I was a small child living in a variety of cultures. I’ve been fortunate to have written a book about language and communication so that kids might enjoy it too.

https://www.quartoknows.com/books/9781633221550/You-Talking-to-Me.html?direct=1

GREEN’S THE THEME

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Persephone has wrought her wonders once again this spring, thrilling the vegetation into exuberant displays of colour, waking the sleeping leaves from winter-dormant trees, encouraging the buds to open, and enticing tiny fruits to peep out at the warming world.

The olive flowers have given way to teensy olives – pale green beads sheltering tightly in little clusters as though fearful of what the unpredictable storms of the season might yet do to them.

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Olives have been grown on the Pelion peninsula since time immemorial; there are trees in our grounds that are at least 300 years old, and many colossal specimens in the area are claimed to be more than a thousand years of age. Quite possible.

The olives are not looking promising this year, though. Much of the blossom was torn from the trees by very strong gales throughout May, so the olives are already greatly reduced in number. Add to this the myriad of pests which attack all parts of the olive tree, the leaves, the bark, and particularly the fruit itself, and I fear the olive crop might be a poor one. I do hope not, for olive revenues are vital to the local farmers.

The fig trees are laden with fruit, dark green and shining new. Shall I call them figlets? They are bigger, brighter, bolder than the olives as they are of course a much larger fruit, but I have to keep a wary eye on them. The wind is not so much their enemy as are the worms and moths that infest the leaves at every opportunity, spreading cobwebs all across them, under which the worms thrive, and munch, and mature, and start the whole cycle all over again.

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The lemons always do well, not surprisingly, and are quite indispensable for all sorts of uses.

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On their way to lemonade…

The grapes are making an effort, but the birds do love them so, and the ants are wild for them.

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Speaking of ants, look at them feasting on these fat buds.

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So tender! So tempting!

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We’re green here on our property, not just in Nature’s brilliant hues, but also in the ecological sense. This piece of land was in the possession of a local family for many generations, several hundred years in fact, and so its history is well known; they have never used any form of poison. No herbicide. No pesticide. And we most certainly have not, nor will we ever.

And yet, somehow, it balances itself out. We have abundant bird life, which we encourage by providing fresh water at several spots. The insectivorous swallows do a fine job of zapping various pests, as do the cheeky flycatchers. And while our fruit is not perfect, it’s delicious and most certainly organic.

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Jason in new spring colours

Jason got into the spirit of things, sporting a new hat, and making no objection to being photographed.

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Oh please, this is getting boring…

Several of the furry and hairy ones stuck their noses in, as they invariably do, cavorting about like kids let out of school.

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Peek a boo!

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Raki is either absolutely convinced of his superiority, or else he’s too self-absorbed to comprehend that all the others regard him as just another one of the pests!

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Retsina’s not at all fazed

 

SPRING’S POPPING UP!

The weather’s been very unsettled, rather like Greece’s political and economic situation at present; brief periods of brilliant and heartwarming sunshine readily give way to gray cloud and rain. The weather forecasters have been speaking of yet another really cold snap to hit us before spring arrives, and plenty more rain which we certainly do need. These prognostications may of course be wrong, and it can’t be easy to predict conditions for the Pelion Peninsula, as we really do have the most mini of micro climates, given the terrain – gulfs, gullies, headlands, hills and pinnacles. The rain nymphs, known as the Hyades in Greek mythology, might be chucking it down hard on us, while Helios, god of the sun, is beaming benignly on our friends up the hill. Does make life interesting!

This morning brought a sunny dawn, fairly warm with only a little cloud.

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Anemones and daisies, always among the first wildflowers, have begun appearing, but I was thrilled to see a poppy – one solitary little poppy on the whole property.

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Poppies typically begin their exuberant displays in March so perhaps this enthusiastic loner augurs well for the coming days. We’ll see.

Mythos and Raki, never ones to miss any activity, made the very most of the sun which sadly decided to make itself scarce come midmorning and by noon sea and sky had settled into deep pewter, this season’s prevailing colour.

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Can you see me?

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Where’s Mythos going?

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What’s he doing?

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What’s he up to?

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Oh, please! I’m always the one who’s on top of things.

The temperature has fallen quite sharply, and now the rain clouds loom, leering darkly down on us, while Mt Pelion has begun to vanish from view.

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But life is busy in the garden – spring is coming for sure!

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New housing developments

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MYTHOS MAJOR AND MINOR

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How do I open this?

This is Mythos, who was named after the award winning Greek beer, Mythos. A very popular brew, Mythos has a good head of foam topping its rich golden colour, so it’s easy to see how Mythos cat got his name, but feline Mythos also has a good head on his shoulders for he was sharp-witted enough to make his home here.

Mythos has a long sad story of his own, which I will tell you in some future post, but today I’ll introduce what is likely to become the latest addition to the furry and hairy household.

For want of a better name at present, I give you Mythos Minor.

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I don’t care that it’s the dog food – there’s so much! And I’m SO hungry

This feisty little chap showed up here just over a week ago, in the rain, out of the forest. Skin and bone, skin and bone but with the typical hugely swollen bellyfull of worms.

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Are you my mom?

When Costa saw him a couple of days later he assured me that the intrepid infant had made his way to us from the furthest end of the village, a distance of at least a mile, across rocky headlands and through dense undergrowth. If Costa says so, then it is so.

Costa is familiar with all that happens here, and it would seem that Mythos Minor was one of several cats and kittens that scrounged around at a particular taverna, now closed since September. This is an annual saga.

Well-meaning holiday makers feed many of these feral cats, but when they leave the cats (and dogs) have to fend for themselves. Anyway, Costa is quite convinced of Minor’s origins. How on earth did this spunky soul make it to us, and how long did it take him? Fortunately, unlike Raki, he’s fully weaned.

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All these big cats frighten me.

What to do? Like all kittens, he’s very cute and curious.

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Smells good! This is catnip?

We’d love to keep him, even though he’s already caused much upset among the other cats, all of whom are rescues. We’ve brought him to the attention of Sharon at PAWS  and our fingers are tightly crossed that he might be adopted, but…..

That’s Raki? He doesn’t like me!

Right now Junior has a warm bed in the shed with a heat lamp and all comforts.

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Please take care of me.

He’s taken out several times a day to play about, climb trees and be socialised. He’s very friendly and affectionate and absolutely hates being put back into the shed after we’ve tired him out.

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Stepping boldly forth

He’s a spunky soul, and does his best to stand his ground, but two of our big toms are determined to hurt him. Funny how they’ve forgotten the dreadful circumstances each was in when they were rescued!

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So much to explore!

He deems everything worthy of his attention, and zooms about as long as I am there to protect him.

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Raki is NOT happy

Mythos Major was advancing on Minor earlier this morning.

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Why should I be nice to the little brat?

Anxious to avoid an upset, I tried to distract him with a cat treat which he is very partial to. Minor had no intention of being left out though, figuring that anything Major got he should get too.

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Bribery – it worked!

Minor’s more than just courageous though; he’s one smart kitty and pretty soon decided not to push his luck,

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Deferring to the big boy

… contenting himself with the leftovers.

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Is that another little bit?

Mt Pelion, home to many of the Greek myths, stares down upon me as I write as though it knows that Mythos Minor is unlikely to be going anywhere anytime soon.