Tybalt the Famous

Tybalt is a modest cat. He is laid back, he is kind, he is friendly once he knows you, and polite if he doesn't. He is tall and handsome, and this morning he pinned Pandora down and gave her ears a jolly good clean.

And now he is FAMOUS!

You may remember back in June that the artist who painted a portrait of Tybalt and his dear departed sister Lily, contacted us to ask if we were agreeable to their images being made into a jigsaw puzzle. Well, of course, we agreed. We're not proud, we'll snatch at any chance of fame, vicarious or otherwise. The portrait man said a jigsaw puzzle company had shown interest in the painting, but couldn't guarantee they would actually use it as a jigsaw. It was all very much a 'project in progress.'

There was a bit of faffing as I had to take the original portrait to a photo studio to be scanned, and then it winged (wanged, wung?) its way to Ireland and then back to England, to a company called The Wentworth Wooden Jigsaw Company Ltd. And nothing more was heard.

Until Saturday, when Andy got an e-mail from the artist saying he was sending us our complementary jigsaw puzzle!!

And yesterday it arrived!!

It's a very good quality product, which is excellent as Tybalt  is very discerning and wouldn't want to be involved with, or endorse any old tat. It is 'a finely cut wooden jigsaw' featuring 'whimsy pieces' made 'using wood from forests managed on a sustainable yield basis.' And it's 'Made in England', and the pieces are presented in a nice cotton bag inside a high quality box. We are thrilled! Because this is just the kind of product that fits in with the morals and ethics of Much Malarkey Manor. (Can a jigsaw puzzle have morals and ethics? Well, this one does!)

The whimsy pieces are tiny cats!

'Why isn't there a jigsaw with me on it?' asks Pandora.
'Well, because you weren't around when this portrait was painted,' I say. 'Give me back that piece now; you'll make it all soggy licking it like that.'
'What do you mean, I wasn't around,' says Pandora.
'You weren't born,' I say, wondering if now is a good time to discuss eggs and sperm and the miracle of birth.
'But I've been around for YEARS,' says Pandora.
'No, you haven't,' I say. 'And put that other piece of puzzle back, too.'
'I have too,' says Pandora. 'Look, it says so, in Andy's 'Sky At Night' magazine.' And she opens the pages to reveal an article about something called the Twilight Pandora.
'That's not about you,' I say. 'That's to do with stars and the universe.'
'I AM the universe,' says Pandora, importantly, before skidding on the magazine and falling off the table.

I pick her up and wait until she's finished doing that cat lick thing that cats do to show their humans that they meant to do something stupid like fall off a table.

'The Twilight Pandora is the Pandora who wrecks stuff in the kitchen overnight,' says Pandora. 'Like eating flowers and plants and emptying the tea-towel drawer.'
'Oh,' I say. 'I see.'
'And Twilight Pandora is gazzillions of years old and should be on a jigsaw puzzle.'
'Right,' I say.
'You don't believe me, do you?' says Pandora.
'Not wholly,' I say. 'But as it's Christmas and it's going to be difficult for you to accept that Tybalt is famous on a puzzle and you aren't, I'm prepared to meet you half way and call you Twilight Pandora.'

And here are a couple of pictures of the finished product. We're saving it to make tomorrow, when the aged aunts, grannies, and my children and baby bug grand-daughter come for Christmas Eve party-do. Exciting stuff are parties here at the Manor!