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John Juzek Violin


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14 minutes ago, Rue said:

Ooohhhhh!!! Hush-hush and all that! *wink*

Soooooo...how about them 49ers?

I like your avatar. Best cat I ever had( one of the “best,” at least) was a jet black cat with deep blue eyes. His name was “Black Cat” 

oh he was one of the best.

Didn’t make violins, though

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Thanks! She's very sweet. She's from the RSPCA. She was supposed to be a barn cat ..but then there was the incident...now she's a house cat.

She's adapted very well. She does not want to be a barn cat...ever.

We have a feral barn cat...he's been here for years. Also solid black  His name is Mr. Black.

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We went to the SPCA specifically for barn cats -  they have a program. I said I wanted two older females, ones that nobody wanted, and any colour...just not black.

They introduced us to the two that had been there the longest, and both were black.

The first was a super friendly 1.5 year tuxedo. She's lovely. No idea why she wasn't being adopted. Sold! 

The second female (also 1.5 years old at the time) was hiding under a bench. They had to drag her out. She was tiny, missing part of an ear - and was very black.  I could see why she hadn't been adopted.

Well...what could I say?

So, on a lovely warm October day, we brought home two black females , introduced them to the black feral tom, and for a while, it was all well.

Then the tuxedo and the tom started picking on the little, shy half-eared female and she started hiding from them.

One day, in February, she hid in the engine of the truck. 

Hubby started the truck.

Hubby brought me a mangled cat.

I called the vet.

He told me how to patch her up for the night, and booked her in first thing the next morning.

I wasn't too worried about all the missing hair on her body, and nothing was broken...but her tail was flailed..all of it. After I washed the blood off, I was horrified to see every little vertebrae, and lots of ligaments...all nice and shiny white.

The next morning the vet unwrapped my extensive tail bandage, and kept her for amputation.

The next day I picked up our new manx!

It was -30°C outside. I wasn't about to put her back in barn to be bullied - with her little shaved stubby tail bit (with pokey stitches), so I kept her inside. She made herself very agreeable to being kept indoors. She made friends with our big orange indoor tom...and promised she wouldn't pester the parrots...

And that's how we acquired our tiny, black, one-eared, tailless wonder cat...

Your turn! :P

 

 

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1 hour ago, Rue said:

We went to the SPCA specifically for barn cats -  they have a program. I said I wanted two older females, ones that nobody wanted, and any colour...just not black.

They introduced us to the two that had been there the longest, and both were black.

The first was a super friendly 1.5 year tuxedo. She's lovely. No idea why she wasn't being adopted. Sold! 

The second female (also 1.5 years old at the time) was hiding under a bench. They had to drag her out. She was tiny, missing part of an ear - and was very black.  I could see why she hadn't been adopted.

Well...what could I say?

So, on a lovely warm October day, we brought home two black females , introduced them to the black feral tom, and for a while, it was all well.

Then the tuxedo and the tom started picking on the little, shy half-eared female and she started hiding from them.

One day, in February, she hid in the engine of the truck. 

Hubby started the truck.

Hubby brought me a mangled cat.

I called the vet.

He told me how to patch her up for the night, and booked her in first thing the next morning.

I wasn't too worried about all the missing hair on her body, and nothing was broken...but her tail was flailed..all of it. After I washed the blood off, I was horrified to see every little vertebrae, and lots of ligaments...all nice and shiny white.

The next morning the vet unwrapped my extensive tail bandage, and kept her for amputation.

The next day I picked up our new manx!

It was -30°C outside. I wasn't about to put her back in barn to be bullied - with her little shaved stubby tail bit (with pokey stitches), so I kept her inside. She made herself very agreeable to being kept indoors. She made friends with our big orange indoor tom...and promised she wouldn't pester the parrots...

And that's how we acquired our tiny, black, one-eared, tailless wonder cat...

Your turn! :P

 

 

Applause emoji.

great story, but gosh you must have been horrified. 

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@Rue

 

THE STORY OF RAMBLER 

 

I cuddle Rambler, and know that he loves me, he did from the first time I touched him....

I remember bringing him home, terrified, hiding under the seat of my VW. It was sad to see him in the darkness under that seat, eyes big and glowing in the skeletal face.

How I loved him, even then, and how I had loved him in the steaming junkyard.

I hadn't planned on another cat: Losing Sebastian had been hard, and two cats are enough, anyway. So, when I went to the junkyard to pay for a car, I thought I would be leaving with just a car: an extremely rare absolutely loaded 1961 Rambler Classic V-8, with every single option available in 1961 except power windows and the continental kit.

While waiting to pay Kevin (the junkyard owner) I fed the myriad cats the milk and food I had brought. Suddenly I knew I was meant to take one home.

I had always loved calicos, or tortoiseshells, and one of the kittens I fed was a tiny little calico, colorful as a New England autumn, despite her sad condition. I picked her up; she was tiny, perhaps 10 weeks old. Amazingly, she struggled in my arms, something cats almost never do with me. I figured she was the one, though, because Blind Chance had led me to pick her up, rather then one of the others.

I asked Kevin, "Can I have this cat?" He shrugged, still smarting from my tongue-lashing about feeding the cats separately from the dogs. "Sure. I don't care." Then he looked at me and said, "She doesn't like you, though." He smiled, though he wasn't trying to be rude. He was right, too, but I decided to take her anyway. After all, Chance chooses, and that's the way it is.

I moved down the narrow path to my Volkswagen Jetta, the kitten struggling all the while. I finally surrendered, and let her go. She dashed back the way we had come, disappearing around the corner. 

Chance or no chance, she wasn't for me. I turned back from watching her retreat to see, not a foot from me, sunning himself on a derelict window air-conditioning unit, a homely gray, black and white kitten. There's no such thing as an ugly cat, but this dingy waif was pretty close. He seemed happy, though, and when I reached down to pet him, he closed his bright eyes and pushed his cheek against my hand. On impulse, I gently picked him up, and held his emaciated body in my arms. He had a bad scratch on his nose, and fleas were visible against his bony skin, through his wispy slate-gray hair. I felt a sudden urge to wash him. He looked at me with eyes that seemed even brighter against his dirty off-white face, and purred. As I watched, he closed them again and settled into my arms. I loved him. Ugly, dingy, flea-bitten, I loved him from that moment.

"Kevin, I think this is the one." Kevin shrugged. It was all the same to him which cat I took or didn't.

"I'll call you and tell you where to take the Rambler." I said, and turned back towards my car. The kitten seemed content for a few steps, then saw the great white monster VW and decided he didn't want a ride. He was scared of the car, though, and not of me. Getting him into a car with an open sunroof and 4 open windows was a trick, and he got more scared as I held him and put the key in the lock to electrically close the windows, but I never once felt claws on skin.

Once in the car, I held him in my lap, and he purred, struggled, and meowed while I drove to the store to get some water and cat food.

It must be a treat to watch a single person simultaneously manipulating a scared, starving kitten, and a five-speed manual transmission. I hope to watch it someday. But I hope never again to do it. When I went inside to buy the supplies, he dashed under the driver's seat and remained there for the duration of the trip home.

Once home, I moved the untouched cat food from the passenger seat to a plate on my workbench. 

The little kitten remained under the seat. I wheedled, purred, soothed, and begged to no avail, but finally, I was able to reach under the seat and drag him out by the scruff. My little Flea Circus. Despite his fear, he didn't struggle in my arms. I lifted him to the food, and finally, he saw it, and ate the entire contents of the three-ounce can in about 30 seconds. 

We had already bonded, but I was worried about my other two cats; Aslan, an orange tabby the size of a lynx, and Chloe, a totally ornamental female.

They loved him, too. Somehow, they loved him as much as I already did. Chloe didn't hiss at him, an amazing reaction from a spoiled, seven year old lady who is accustomed to ruling the roost. She smiled at him and then basically ignored him, as if she had decided she trusted my judgement(always a welcome thing.) I was a bit worried about Aslan, a male stray who, despite being absent his "equipment", was yet very territorial and would probably have defended his land against a good sized truck. But Aslan took a look, sniffed a sniff, and started licking him(and still does, to this day.) The sight of an 18-pound longhaired tabby, licking a lanky kitten one-eighth his weight, was just adorable. I knew it would work.

For the rest of that first day, my little kitten hid under the beds, or lodged himself behind a chair in a corner, but even then, he knew I loved him, and by the end of the second day, he was turning his head to me whenever I said his name: Rambler.

I went to that junkyard to redeem a worthy old piece of metal, a car with a heart and a personality. I came away with a cat.

Sometimes, it is a car that draws us, a mere machine that speaks to us as even an exact duplicate a foot away does not. Sometimes, it is a cat, and on that day, dingy gray spoke to me, instead of the colors of autumn. 

It is inexplicable, but true, that the person we bump into at the market, different from us in every conceivable way, might become the beloved sibling of our soul, and every such chance must be taken, regardless of whether it is a person...or a cat.

 

Philip Taggart

march 2002

163E353F-22FB-43C3-9ED6-D424C9DBF3E6.jpeg

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On 5/16/2020 at 9:08 AM, Violadamore said:

A Roth??  Not recommended.  Please read the (still slightly radioactive) locked threads linked below.  Out of the frying pan...........  :lol:  :rolleyes:

https://maestronet.com/forum/index.php?/topic/327207-pahdahs-roth/

https://maestronet.com/forum/index.php?/topic/327262-new-padahs-roth/

I read about 20 pages of that enormous post. I am annoyed that folks share links that expire. That is why I always paste actual photos. Amazing discussion, full of insults and accusations, just like a session of parliament.

 Now I know a lot more about Roths, as well as other stuff.

Some posters here have a real Bee in their bonnet.

where was I in ‘12?? Sorry I missed all that.

thank you so much for sharing!

Edited by PhilipKT
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7 hours ago, PhilipKT said:

I read about 20 pages of that enormous post. I am annoyed that folks share links that expire. That is why I always paste actual photos. Amazing discussion, full of insults and accusations, just like a session of parliament.

 Now I know a lot more about Roths, as well as other stuff.

Some posters here have a real Bee in their bonnet.

I think the bee, being firmly ensconced in bonnet, comes as a result of repeated truth stretching and abject fantasy being presented as fact, which is hungrily lapped up by the bloodshot eyed, grunting eBay bargain hunters.

For those who are interested in actual facts, this sort of stuff can be quite infuriating. If you run a bricks and mortar business, you are held to different levels of scrutiny and expectation.

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Just a question. Why are people saying that John Juzek wasn't a real violin maker? From what I've read, according to the Juzek family, John Juzek was an actual violin maker, despite the trade name. I do admit, I don't know where one could find a "real" John Juzek. Also, I agree that even the "master art" Juzeks look pretty crap for being their highest grade.

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