Dwight Peck's personal website

Melvin the Doge and Choupette

A small collection of poignant photos of fairly cute cats, extracted from other webpages on this site.

You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.

Two eager cats heading off for Lake Superior, early August 2022

Specifically, to the cottages "South Beach" (soi-disant) near Ontonagon, on the Upper Peninsula ("UP") of Michigan

We're packing up the trusty Volvo for the two-hour northward trek to exciting downtown Ontonagon, but the cats have gone to ground. 2 August 2022.

Choupette was an easy find -- this is her new favorite hiding place -- but Melvin, for some misguided reason, hid out in the swamp for two hours. Thus a late start for all of us.

But the cats can't wait to get back to the beach.


An ambush, and . . .

. . . a stand-off.

A flanking move, and . . .

. . . a puzzled Melvin.

Melvin has just walked past a terrified turtle without blinking an eye. Choupette notices everything.

Preparing to engage. (In fact, the turtle scuttled slowly into the underbrush and kept on scuttling, with Choupette following close behind, provoking turtle fears but doing no harm, until we hauled her into the cabin for a while.)

Another day, even sunnier, and hotter -- back into the shade.

-- Cats! Come on over to my chair!

Shade is shade, and they're not budging.

Melvin waits patiently for the return of the shampooee.

-- Melvin! Catch the shampoo!

A quiet afternoon at the beach (out of the direct sunlight)

And off the super-hot sand

Restful, but boring.

Finally, one of them deigns to shelter under the other chair.

In fact, now they both want in.

This is what beaches are for.

And so is this -- feline explorations.

Choupette has espied a strange construction in the sand, and . . .

. . . investigates. (Melvin is oblivious.)

-- Oh, it's only a fake swan. (Those kids again.) Choupette continues her explorations.

A brief moment for consultations on the way forward, and then . . .

. . . the fallen tree's mess of roots attracts attention.


This, however, is a dead end.

Melvin watches intently as Choupette decides whether to back off the tree, try to turn around, or just jump. She jumped.

And is still as energetic as ever; while Melville contemplates taking a nap under the log

Choupette is relaxing scowlingly out of the sun.

Choupette notices our camera, and continues scowling.

Apparently wondering how she got in there.

So Choupette is having a nice stretch, and . . .

. . . getting back to her relaxations.

Choupette, waiting for 9 a.m., the arbitrary time of the cats' morning release from durance vile (and back in by 5 p.m. -- it's all to do with huge savage owls lurking nocturnally in the swamp).

A rainstorm is sweeping across the lake. Melvin is awaiting our advice for finding shelter.

On the pontoon boat, of course. We've got our book, as usual, but impatient cats have to occupy themselves.

Napping isn't working out so well today.

Feline frustration with the elements

Choupette is not going to put up with this anymore. It's just unacceptable.

She just wants out!

Melvin keeps his feelings to himself (as always), but is ready to go as soon as the rain lets up.

Brother Eric leads the cats to post-rain freedom.

A consultation: how can we get into the boathouse again?

This way never works.

Melvin goes exploring.

He's seen these things before. (It didn't always go well.)

Now he'll just settle for a snooze.

Choupette joins the afternoon dock brigade.

Fascinated by hydrobikes. As who isn't?

The temptation to scoop her up and take her for a ride is sometimes strong. But if she were to panic on board, and without a feline lifejacket, the results could be awkward for both of us.

Observing the world go by.

Taking turns on the window sill

Melvin catching up on news of Trump's new 'legal team'

Choupette looking for some afternoon action on the dock, 20 August 2022.

Failing that, a watchful interlude awaiting diversions of any sort, or failing that in turn . . .

. . . a nap.

9 a.m. is cat-release time, and in their fourth month on the lake, with the temperatures declining, it takes them a while to remember why they begged so hard to get out.

Resenting dad's reading time out on the lawn is one activity that never grows tiresome.

And then there's dad's time catching up on the appalling US news online; perhaps they're just trying to spare him.

At least until mom comes home and announces that the cat-dinner's ready.

Choupette has a sad fascination with the old (1938) boathouse, and can wait for long periods of time hoping that someone will open the door for her. (At which time, she'll dash in and hide.)

Choupette's waiting for us to try to get back to our book. (That's Philippa of Hainault: mother of the English nation, 2022, Choupette would be meowingly bored.)

Always active, energetically investigative ('Investigative' killed the cat, they say).

Never leave your car window open without looking round for Choupette lurking.

The reading room. No cats for the moment. Oh wait, there's a Melvin lurking.

But here they are to welcome us back from our afternoon's hydrobiking.

More coordinated hunting (in kindly Melvin's case, just for bugs; in Choupette's, cute little mammals)

Coordinated nap time

Waiting patiently to be let into the cottage for a snack

Sharing the nightwatch duties

The last days of summer are approaching.

Feedback and suggestions are welcome if positive, resented if negative, . All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 16 April 2024.

Fun with Melvin and Choupette