The Railway/Mailman Cat

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  Jack, the Mail Cat
  by Beth Kane

  Table of Contents
  Our dog, Holly, has always had a special interest in the arrival of the mailman. It makes her day (and his). I actually witnessed him teasing her by putting the letters halfway through the letter slot (it's an old house) then pulling them back. Our letters are all punctured by Holly's teeth, and forget about Netflix; We have no idea what that last chewed disk will cost. Recently, we adopted Jack, the cat. Jack's about 12 months old. He had to have surgery for a tumor (he's OK) but that's why he's wearing his plastic "hoodie." Still, he's a real trooper. He and Holly attack the US Postal Service as a team. If you look closely, you'll see that Jack has managed to jump up into his tiny "lookout" window wearing his plastic collar. The white gauze bow ties it around his neck. (He has to wear it for 8 more days). They team up in the foyer when they hear the sound of the mailman's engine. Here are a couple of pictures showing them waiting and one showing an exhausted Jack. Soon I hope to have a real action photo with Cat and Dog versus USPS. Note: "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats," T. S Eliot's famous poem begins as a parody of Rudyard Kipling's l'Envoi and turned into Andrew Lloyd Webber's wonderful musical Cats. Eliot writes: There's a whisper down the line at 11.39 When the Night Mail's ready to depart, Saying `Skimble where is Skimble has he gone to hunt the thimble? We must find him or the train can't start.' All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster's daughters They are searching high and low, Saying `Skimble where is Skimble for unless he's very nimble Then the Night Mail just can't go.' Skimbleshanks lived on the night mail train. In the musical Cats he is depicted as an orange tabby cat. Of course, that must be our very own Jack Kane traveling under an alias since Jack's is a handsome orange tabby. Here's what Elliot had to say about giving cats three names. We know that we have Jack, Skimbleshankes, but sly kitty that he is ... he still has not revealed his third name. The Naming of Cats  The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,    It isn't just one of your holiday games;  You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter  When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.  First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,    Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,  Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey -    All of them sensible everyday names.  There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,    Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:  Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter -    But all of them sensible everyday names.  But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,    A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,  Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,    Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?  Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,    Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,  Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum -    Names that never belong to more than one cat.  But above and beyond there's still one name left over,    And that is the name that you never will guess;  The name that no human research can discover -    But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.  When you notice a cat in profound meditation,    The reason, I tell you, is always the same:  His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation    Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:      His ineffable effable      Effanineffable  Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
  	Added by Beth Kane