Bookends - Sophie and Lucy-fur (Sophie on the left)
Cats have been part of my life since I was a child. We always had cats in the household and most people I knew, relatives and friends alike had a cat or two. Some had dogs but my dear father was not happy with dogs so with us it was cats. That we also had at times, chickens a pet rabbit or two - one of which we ate - and a tortoise (my brother's pet with the name Willy) which we did not eat.
But back to cats.
I learned to like cats and learned also that some cats become attached to a person. As a schoolboy I did a paper round and at one time we had a long haired cat that became my bedtime companion - I called her Fluffy (as you do) and she had some delightful kittens that were snapped up quickly by friends and relatives. One morning Fluffy, following me on my round near home was crunched under the wheel of a truck and I lost her.
That was real grief.
Later when I was married and living in Maidstone my wife and lost our black and white cat we called Oy You - another horrible moment.
Years later when I was divorced and living in a flat I met up with Toots who was a semi-feral cat living on her wits and scavenging. I fed her, let her scrag my fingers in violent play and took her in. She presented me with a litter of kittens and we became real friends - she was My Cat and I was Her Person; she became the model for Polly.
When I had to finally put her down as they say, toothless, and with her kidneys failing in much pain I was devastated. I still feel the loss.
My flatmate Wendy getting fed up with my long face and aimless wandering gave me what was the best Christmas present I have had - the kitten Sophie whom I chose from a litter of four. When I returned to the UK I brought her with me and she is now an important part of my household.
Toots comfortable in the fruit basket
Toots
Toots was a semi-feral stray cat who came into my life when I was at a low point. I was suffering from a horrendous problem with an on-going injury that stopped me from working. This was in 1987 and at the time I was working as a fitter for the Auckland City Council. As a motorcyclist of years past - since 1959 in fact - I had bought a Kawasaki 1000cc monster and finding that my shoulder, arm and wrist was getting worse I gave that up and bought a 650 BMW which was a blessing in disguise as I had transport I could manage and afford to run.
However, the problem was that the injury was getting worse and come August 1987 I had to give up the work and seek accident compensation. Whoops! Repetitive Strain Injury was not on the list and although I could not work I had no money coming in. Result: suspend bike payments, suspend rent, work for my local Trades Union Council in their Peace Office for a small sum and do what I can elsewhere.
Compensation did come eventually but I was in debt and had to pay much of it out.
During that time I was living in a block of four units with a mate and this was where Toots came in. She was a black cat with a soft under-fur that was very much like a chinchilla and the first time I saw her she was bum up, head down in a rubbish bin.
I was cat less at the time having lost my two and so with patience I enticed this mad cat to my door with regular food. She responded and eventually decided that being inside was a good idea. She was young, I guess less than a year old, and reasonably healthy although it was obvious that she had been abandoned.
Her sharp claws and teeth had no mercy on my playful fingers and most times a play session was painful for me but immense fun for her. But she did respond by becoming my cat and sharing my room and bed as cats do. She had no name other than Cat until one morning she arrived on my doorstep with a fish hook through her lower lip, demanding food in her usual stroppy mood. It was still at this time she wanted to be outside coming in when the weather was bad.
I took her to the local vet explaining to the stony-faced nurse that the cat was semi-feral, sharp and spiky and it would be a good idea to use gauntlets when handling her. The woman demanded to know her name which I explained was Cat but she insisted on a name, so with my usual flair for the ridiculous I plucked a name out of the garbage in my mind and so Cat became Toots, which suited her.
The problem with the fish hook was that I did not have enough hands to hold her down, keep her steady whilst I cut the shaft and at the same time avoid the slashing claws. I warned the nurse to wear gloves.
When I collected Toots the nurse was bandaged and angry.
"That cat is a wild animal! It's dangerous!" she declared, glowering at me. I smirked when she fumbled with the cash till her sausage fingers slipping on the coins and the note she handed back to me.
"I warned you," I said and followed her out back to collect Toots whom she was not game to handle. Toots, sans dangling fish hook purred, cuddled up and nuzzled me and allowed me to pop her in the cage with a mild, affectionate clawing scratch that hardly broke the skin and I carried her to the reception.
I thanked the grinning vet who commented: "She was a bit of a handful but we managed."
"She's a friendly little creature," I said and grinned at him.
The nurse snorted and pointedly walked off. Back home Toots gobbled up her food and rushed outside to find something fluttery to murder.
Nice cat, I thought.