(Polly was a real cat - only the names have been changed - written in New Zealand)
A Dish of Mince For Polly
Polly came into my life at eleven ten on a wet Saturday morning. A stray cat looking for an owner, she walked into the house and took over. For a while she had no name, but with her optimistic nature and her shiny black coat I called her Pollyanna. Polly for short. My familiar. We shared my home, more or less ate together, and when it was cold we shared my bed. For the best part of twelve years she was an important part of my life.
That was until Sarah moved in.
‘That cat has got to go!’ she said, sniffing.
Polly’s green eyes gazed at me unfathomable. Sarah was the newcomer and although she shared our bed she was yet to make it her place. I expected her to accept Polly. Enamoured of Sarah I didn’t take her seriously when she suggested, before we shacked up together, that animals belonged outside.
‘They’re more natural out in the open catching things,’ she said.
Polly sat gazing at me with her lids lowered.
Unhappy.
Sarah smiled winningly and made an effort to stroke Polly’s head.
I’ll give Polly her due, she didn’t scratch Sarah, neither did she hiss or spit, but she made her opinion quite clear with a low growl and an arched back. With her tail rigid and her ears back she turned and walked away. Polly did not approve of Sarah.
The feeling, I gathered later after Sarah moved in was mutual. She rearranged the flat, sniffed, sneezed and cleaned it and gave me the full power of her sexual attraction.
‘That cat has to go,’ she said and pouted.
I had a choice, Polly or Sarah. Polly didn’t like Sarah. Sarah obviously didn’t like Polly.
‘She’s getting old. She has no teeth and all she can eat is mince and that awful Jellymeat. I never know if it is our mince or that cat’s meat thawing out.’
I didn’t tell her that I bought quality meat for Polly.
‘I’ll find a home for her,’ I said. ‘Yes, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll find a home for her. I’ll advertise in the vet’s.’
Sarah smiled.
‘Good boy, let’s go to bed.’
Sometime after midnight Polly cried outside our window. I lay listening, and beside me Sarah stirred and complained sleepily.
‘I’ll sort her out,’ I said.
Polly rushed in and rubbed against my legs. I fed her Jellymeat and mince from the fridge. When she finished eating I picked her up and cuddled her.
‘Poor cat, poor Polly.’
She purred loudly and I held her until she wriggled to get down letting her go and stroked her as she settled on the settee. Back in bed beside Sarah I lay, sleepless, waiting for the morning.
I advertised, but nobody wanted to chop raw meat for a twelve year old toothless cat or play tag with her set of tree sharpened claws. Least of all Sarah who after six weeks of fruitless searching said bluntly what she felt.
‘That cat has to go. Put her down. She’s past it anyway,’ she said. ‘It’s either me or that damn cat.’
My Vet’s sympathetic smile said it all when he agreed that Polly was not in the best of health. I said I would think it over. I managed to hold out another two weeks before I took Polly back. I lifted her from the cage and placed her gently on the table.
‘Euthanasia for Polly is it?’ the vet said.
I looked at him and smiled.
‘No, vaccination and a check up. We decided after all that Polly should stay,’ I said pleased at his relieved smile.
‘Good good, no need to put an animal down if it is reasonably healthy is what I say. I’m glad you decided to keep her,’ he said, and patted her gently before putting her back in the cage.
‘Thank you,’ I called out as I left and carried the cage to my car. I delayed long enough to drop two packs of clothes into the SPCA recycling bin. I shoved in a pair of jeans and some of Sarah’s tops. She wouldn’t be needing them. Another pet owner smiled as she watched.
‘All in a good cause,’ I said, and added a satisfied smile.
‘It’s for the animals,’ she said. ‘After all they are a part of our lives.’
I drove home humming a tune.
Inside the flat I put a plate of mince down for Polly. She gobbled it up spilling a little and purred as she ate. I smiled, feeling good as her tail flickered, and her small body moved in time to the chomping motion of her head.
It was ironic really, how well in the end Polly took to Sarah.