happy new year! party purrfectly

 US Library of Congress Prints and Photographs division, digital ID cph.3b50948  {{{PD-1923}}}

Here's a Currier & Ives piece from circa 1871 with three jolly kittens showing not one whit of restraint.  (The 1800's weren't all buttoned up all the time - far from it.) 

And they help me wish you

Happy New Year!

Party safely, Museum friends! Bring on 2012!

P.S. Don't let kittens drink port and purr.

a mouse and a grape

wikimedia commons {{PD-US}}

Mice: elegant, nimble, satisfied with little, as we see here. One luscious purple grape will make a feast for this fellow. The last bit of the grape stem twins with the mouse's tail in a loopdeloop of full, soft forms: fruit today becomes mouse tomorrow, you could say. This lovely ink painting, rich in its simplicity, is by Watanabe Shotei (Japenese; 1851-1918). I couldn't find much about him but here's a bit from the British Museum.

musings on the cat

"Poor pussy," we naturally call the cat. Do we know why? Is it not in instinctive recognition of the strange fact that this gentle beast is the most generally misunderstood creature in the world? Her reserve, her self-reliance, her inextinguishable love of liberty have earned for her a name totally unlike her real character.
And why, again, do we always give a cat the feminine pronoun? The Arabs have a legend that when the first father and mother went out into the desert alone, Allah gave them two friends to defend and comfort them; for defense, the dog, for comfort, the cat. In the body of the dog he placed the soul of a brave man, in that of the cat, the spirit of a gentle woman. Is there in this story a deeper meaning than has been suspected? The woman has never yet come to her full development (Hmph - curator); the cat has never been understood.

-- Olive Thorne Miller, from "Pet Lore for Pet Lovers Part V. Poor Puss," in The Home-maker Vol. 2 (The Home-maker Co., 1889), p. 187. I've run into old references to the Arabic legend, but never a translation of the legend itself. I'd love to see it if you have one!

merry poodlin' christmas!

guess where

And the happiest of holidays to every single one of you:
human, hairy, finned, feathered and furred!
Thank you for dropping by the Museum this year.
Your company has been a wonderful gift all through 2011.

Merry Christmas!

vintage photo time: it's christmas eve!

bulk bin ampersand strikes again

It's Christmas Eve 1971. There's Mom, and there's Howard, and - oh, there's Socky.

Has everybody got a present ready for the furry family members tomorrow? Veronica and Elizabeth are getting knit catnip animals. Briar is getting a big chew bone and a sweater.

I hope you are all settling in for the holiday and not having to run around like crazy during these last few hours!

more on the yuletide cat of iceland

"The ginormous cat’s sole purpose in life is to eat children (and adults, some say) that do not get a new piece of clothing before Christmas. Yes, it devours financially disadvantaged children.This is the kind of message Icelanders like to send out in their folklore: if you do not have the money or means of acquiring new items of clothing before the festival of lights, you will be eaten by a gigantic cat."
Yes, this is a tongue-in-cheek piece on the Jólakötturinn (the Christmas Cat), the oddly grim accessory to the season as enjoyed by our friends in Iceland. For the rest of the piece - and you will not only laugh, but enjoy the artwork - visit here.
For a translated poem about this judgemental feline, look here. And if I were you I would make sure everyone gets at least new socks for the holiday.

dogs join in the adoration

thanks wikimedia commons {{PD-Art}}

So many busy people, fetching, carrying, unpacking. A few are adoring: there's one of the Three Wise Men bending in for a good look at a cutely tubby Baby Jesus, while the other two stand behind, striking poses and waiting their turn. There's a horse, a donkey, a camel - there's even a monkey in the lower left corner - all unbothered by the business of making offerings, gazing directly at the Child.

Then there's the dogs, featured front and center. Stepping softly, they are nosing up to people they know, wanting to see what's happening. You can guess what they'll do next. They'll pad up the two steps to the Virgin Mary, over the worldly crown discarded underfoot. Then they'll be perfectly placed to raise their noses, sniff, wag their tails. Hello, new friend. And what better new friends for a child than creatures full of love, loyalty, and the immediate joys of living?

This Adoration of the Magi was painted by Francesco Bassano the Younger (1549-1592) at some point in his adulthood. He clearly knew how to observe dogs. I wish he had learned more from them; he died unhappy at 42, I'm sorry to say.

a dog proves useful for a russian christmas tradition

"Here is a hint for English young ladies next Christmas. In Russia, we take little loaves of bread. On the little loaves of bread we write young ladies' and gentlemen's names, and then we call in a brisk little hungry dog to gobble them up. Those whose names are written on the loaves which the little dog has gobbled up, will be married before the year is out: the rest must wait for a more favourable opportunity. Oh, what bright eyes follow the little dog!"
- from All the Year Round, the magazine edited by Charles Dickens (issue of January 10, 1863) p. 424.

finally introducing . . . veronica

Yes, we finally got her to come inside. What goes on in that pretty little head of yours, what goes on in that place in the dark? Well we've got ourselves a cat and I can swear that her name is Veronica. Apologies to Elvis Costello.

"Black cats keep care and trouble away from the house. It is lucky for a black and strange cat to stray into anybody's house."
Marie Trevelyan, Folk-lore and folk-stories of Wales (London, 1909), p. 80.

catullus on the death of his girlfriend's sparrow

The Roman poet Catullus (dates thought to be 84 - 54 BC) has gone in and out of fashion, depending on the fashion's tolerance for broad sexual references and poking of fun. For example, you won't be any more surprised than I was at this Victorian commentary on his poems:

They exhibit the sensual grossness which is imbibed from depraved habits and loose imaginations, in singular contrast with gleams of sentiment and taste, and the polish of intellectual cultivation. Many of his amatory trifles are quite unrivalled in the elegancy of their playfulness, and no author has excelled him in the purity and neatness of his style, the delightful ease and racy simplicity of his manner, and his graceful turns of thought and happiness of expression. But many of his poems are stained by gross coarseness and sensuality, which will forever be a bar to their being generally read.

Not true. People still read Catullus, and not least the poems he wrote for a lover he called "Lesbia." She had a pet sparrow, and when it died, he wrote a tender "Elegy" which not only celebrates the little bird, but reminds us to feel with a girl's grief.

Translated by Francis Fawkes in the 1770's, with the immediate and honest styling of that era:

All ye gentle powers above,
Venus, and thou god of love;
All ye gentle souls below,
That can melt at others' woe,
Lesbia's loss with tears deplore,
Lesbia's sparrow is no more:
Late she wont her bird to prize
Dearer than her own bright eyes.
Sweet it was, and lovely too,
And its mistress well it knew.
Nectar from her lips it sipt,
Here it hopt, and there it skipt:
Oft it wanton'd in the air,
Chirping only to the fair:
Oft it lull'd its head to rest
On the pillow of her breast.
Now, alas! it chirps no more;
All its blandishments are o'er:
Death has summon'd it to go
Pensive to the shades below;
Dismal regions! from whose bourn
No pale travellers return.
Death! relentless to destroy
All that's form'd for love or joy.
Joy is vanished, love is fled,
For my Lesbia's sparrow's dead.
Lo, the beauteous nymph appears
Languishingly drown'd in tears!

(And here I cannot resist adding the super-snarky commentary of the Victorian writer above: "The lady-love who is the theme of the greater number of Catullus' amatory effusions is styled Lesbia, but her real name was Clodia, of whom nothing in praise could be said but that she possessed beauty and accomplishments.")

a dog turns the battle

William of Orange, also known as William the Silent (1533-1584) founded the Dutch noble house of Orange-Nassau and spent most of his life enmeshed in the struggle for Dutch independence from their Spanish overlords. Over the course of William's life many tried to assassinate him to further the Spanish cause. On one notable occasion, during a 1572 counteroffensive campaign in France, William lay sleeping in his tent, but his dog Pompey heard someone approaching. Though he barked and scratched, Pompey couldn't rouse his master. Finally he jumped on his face, William awoke, and the would-be assassins were routed.
It's said that Pompey was a pug, and that this loyal act led to the House of Orange's fondness for pugs - a fondness that rolled over to the British royal family with William and Mary. However, William the Silent's tomb includes a sleeping dog at the feet of his reclining figure in honor of the good Pompey, and that dog does not look like a pug. Some older books refer to Pompey as a spaniel, which is what that dog resembles. It's more than possible Pompey was a Kooikerhondje, or "Duck decoy dog." The link takes you to an interesting article on this cute, petite breed. There's a photo of William's tomb; it's terrible, frankly, but I think you'll agree that's not a pug.

Interested in the twists and turns of William the Silent's life? Here's a Wikipedia page.

vintage photo time

yet again &

Week of July 7, 1952. On a warm summer night . . .I miss summer. . . folks lift their cans in salute. And the family cat waits. Someone will drop a chicken leg sometime, he knows. Soon.

catching up for the holidays

Hi Museum friends,
I wanted to take a moment and mention two nice things. First of all, remember Cider and Star? Carol honored me with my very own copy of that print and how I do enjoy it!
Also, our friends over at Freekibble have published a book of their very own this holiday season. Based on the real-life Mimi (and her pet Maty) behind Freekibble, the book is titled Mimi and Maty to the Rescue and was written by none other than Mimi's mom. Every copy sold means 5 meals for pets in need.
That's all for now but I reserve the right to update. Nice things happen all the time and I need to make sure they are celebrated.

feed the cat! some folk beliefs

Among other items in which the weather and the cat are associated, I may mention that there is in Germany a superstition that if it rains when women have a large wash on hand, it is an infallible sign of spite through the cat being ill-treated. Again there is a German belief that any one who, during his lifetime, may have made cats his enemies, is certain to be accompanied to the grave by storm and rain.
The Dutch have also attributed a rainy wedding-day to the bride's not feeding the cat. In the valleys of the Tyrol, girls who are fond of cats are said always to marry early—an evidence, as has been remarked, that household virtues are appreciated in them by the men.
***
From Domestic and fancy cats: a practical treatise on their varieties, breeding management, and diseases, by John Jennings (London and New York: 1901), p. 85.

cartoon: dog brain

So this morning I get up and what do I see but the dog belly-up asleep. Not on his freshly-washed bed, oh no, but on the couch immediately next to it, and sawing logs with not a care in the world. That's why today's find made me laugh so hard. Though it's apparently now "vintage," being a Nickolodeon short from the early 90's - wait, wasn't that just yesterday? No.
Not a word is said in this cartoon. None needed.
Take a break and experience the nirvana of Dog Brain.

another little lamb, some time ago

thanks wikimedia commons {{PD-1923}}

No sources so far are quite sure when Russian academician/society painter Vladimir Borovikovsky (1757-1825) created this "Portrait of Two Children with a Lamb." The page on Wikimedia Commons says "1800s?" Based on the flowing simplicity of their dresses, I think that's right. Don't you love their faces? These look like completely real children. Though they are well dressed, their snubby noses and big, heavy-lidded eyes could belong to any number of cuties I've met over the years. Their lamb seems to like them just fine, too - see, it's resting its head so lightly on the one girl's hand. Look at her other hand. She can't resist digging her fingers into that curly fleece, though probably she was asked to pet it with a flat palm. I understand. Every time I go to the state fair I can never keep my mitts off the sheep either.

This piece could hardly be anything but staged, yet Borovikovsky managed a natural, relaxed feel to the portrait. It makes me happy this morning. I hope it does the same for you.

vintage photo time

from that fabulous bulk bin at ampersand

Now here's something I don't get much: a little lamb. Look, there's no fences, just rolling lawn and a few trees. Where does little lamb go when she goes home, I wonder?