Bella

by Joan Zawatzky

  Karen and Dane’s mother are discussing family activities that might help him – picnics, visits to the beach and movies, when he interrupts them. ‘Mum, please, please.. can I have a cat like Bella?’

  Dane’s mother looks uncertain.

  ‘That’s a good idea. A kitten or a puppy might help Dane,’ Karen says. ‘He would have a furry friend to talk to and play with, and to sleep with at night. There are lots of animals without homes at rescue centres.’

  ‘You’re right Karen, a pet would probably help him,’ his mother says. ‘I will talk to his dad about a pet tonight.’

  Days are shorter, and the sun’s warmth is weaker. Grass in my garden is dry, the ground is hard, and all the flowers have shrivelled and gone. Leaves on the trees are changing into brilliant colours and beginning to fall in heaps.

  I chase mice and other creatures that hide amongst the crunchy leaves. Kicking them into the air as I play is fun. Most birds are leaving for warmer places. At least they won’t be here to taunt me.

  Today the Duck visits me. While we play, it watches the sky. Suddenly we are in virtual darkness, and the sounds of many ducks surround us. Immediately my duck friend stops playing. It waddles towards me, says quark, quark, before it takes off to join the others. I watch it fly away until it disappears into the mass of black.

  Cold air blows through my fur coat and I shiver. Swirls of wind arrive and shake the leaves off trees. I am safe undercover and watch the leaves fall, until a storm of dust arrives. I run inside through my special door with itchy eyes.

  ‘Hurry and eat your breakfast, Treasure,’ Karen says. ‘We are visiting the hospital this morning to see Tamara, a young girl who is very sick. She loves cats, and her doctor wants you to spend some time with her.’

  There is no point complaining about wearing the harness and lead. Karen says I look professional in it, but I know she is trying to pacify me. Like a cat, she can be so manipulative. At least I am wearing it today for a good reason.

  Karen takes me through the hospital that smells of vile antiseptics. We stop at the place they call the Cancer Ward. I hear the voices of children through my carry box and smell sickness. Karen opens my box, and holds me in her arms. Everything around us is white. A sick child lies in a bed in front of us.

  ‘Hi Tamara,’ Karen says. ‘Bella is here to visit you. She knows how much you love cats.’

  A tiny smile starts to form on the thin child’s pale face. Her hand stretches towards me.

  ‘That’s great! Please, Bella come to me.’

  ‘I will fetch a blanket for the cat to lie on. Just a minute,’ a nurse says.

  Soon I am on Tamara’s bed purring.

  I sense that Tamara is extremely ill. I must try as hard as I can to help her.

  I purr loudly and nestle in her arms. She holds me and closes her eyes.

  ‘You remind me of my cat, Sherry, at home. They won’t allow her to visit me. She is too old and sick, like me,’ she says with teary eyes. ‘I don’t know if I will see her again.’

  I lie with Tamara as she strokes me. She talks to me about all the things she enjoyed when she was well, and even laughs occasionally. I fall asleep next to her until the sound of loud talking wakes me. Humans dressed in white stand around asking Karen about me. Karen says that they are doctors.

  ‘A little ginger angel,’ one says.

  Karen laughs ‘Bella is an exceptionally loving cat with a healing gift, but definitely no angel.’

  When Tamara wakes, she strokes me again before Karen puts me back in my carry box.

  ‘Please bring Bella to visit me again,’ she asks.

  Cat Alert! I guard the television room, as I listen to sounds of movement in the ceilings and in the walls of my house. Rats! I am certain of it. I can hear their high-pitched squeaks and whines, and their gnawing of the woodwork. They are an invading army in Catland, constantly on the move.

  As I prepare for war, I sharpen my claws on my scratch post until they are effective weapons. I prowl and check my territory.

  The cooler weather has probably brought them into the warm house through cracks in the roof tiles.

  What if they find a crack in the ceilings or walls and come into my house? I must not allow myself to even think of an army of filthy rats in my house. If they manage to find a way inside, they could leave their poo on the carpets, beds and in my basket. Though I dislike the taste of rat, I am a skilled hunter. Unfortunately, this time there are too many of them for me to destroy alone. What a situation for a cat to face!

  Here I am worried about a rat invasion, and Karen and Tony are completely unaware of the danger we face. When Tony eventually notices a few strange noises and banging he blames it on changes in the weather. What can I do? I try hard to focus their attention on this problem with loud, meows and constant stares at the ceiling, but they take no notice.

  As the rat population grows unhindered, the sounds of their high-pitched communication and scurrying increases. I feel helpless – a useless cat, fearing the loss of my territory.

  ‘Bella is acting strangely, but I have no idea why,’ Karen says to Tony.

  Tony shrugs. ‘She does crazy things sometimes.’

  He must be deaf...and not very smart.

  Today Karen is cooking a lot of food for a friend’s party.

  Thank All Cats! She is hunting for a large dish in a tall cupboard when at last she hears high-pitched squeaks above her.

  ‘Tony, come and listen! I think there are rats in the ceiling – lots of them. No wonder Bella was acting so strangely.’

  After hearing the rat sounds, he rushes to the shops to buy rat poison. He is back now, and throws the rat poison into the ceiling.

  And about time too! Humans are so slow to react and have such poor hearing. At least, I won’t have the responsibility of fighting this invading army alone..

  Today, weak sunlight streams into a quieter, safer house. What a pleasure!

  What is happening now in Catland?

  Karen and Tony are selecting clothes from their cupboards and putting them on the bed. Then, Tony carries suitcases into the bedroom.

  Stinky, Rotting Rats! A sick feeling hits my tummy. I know exactly what is happening. They are packing their clothes to go away. This must be the holiday Karen said they needed.

  I remain hidden under the bed all morning and part of the afternoon. Then, I move to the corner of the room behind the curtain where they won’t see me. I hear them calling me, but I ignore them. Karen eventually finds me, lifts me up, and they both force me into the carry box.

  Much worse is to come.

  They put me in the back of the car.

  Meeoooow. Meeeooow!

  After a bumpy ride in foul smelling traffic, Karen says, ‘We’re here, Bella. You’re going to have a lovely holiday at the cattery!’

  I have no idea what a cattery is – and just as well.

  She carries me inside, but I see almost nothing through the tiny holes in my box. The sound and smell of too many cats in a small confined space is overwhelming. Once my carry box is open, I am in a small cage with a wire around it. The cage has a downstairs area for my food and a poo box, and an upstairs to sleep. Karen places my own basket in the cage, so that I will be comfortable and have something familiar with me. She delves into her handbag to produce a vest she has worn, and puts it into the basket. The vest carries her scent – a reminder that she will be with me. After stroking me several times, she whispers “goodbye”.

  She lingers and talks to me in her sweet voice.

  Tony says gruffly, ‘Come on Karen, leave the cat now, and hurry up!’

  I watch them go and cry inside. What if they leave me here and never ever come back for me?

  ‘Bella, this is your place now while your family are on holiday. I will look after you,’ a Human cat worker says.

  Cat Instinct! Grrrrrrrrrrr! I dislike this Human immediately. I sense that she dislikes me...and all cats. Why in Catland is she working in a cattery? Can’t s
he find another job? I will have to be extremely careful in all my interactions with her.

  I lie far back in my basket on Karen’s vest and try to relax, but I can’t.

  Meow, meow, meow I call over and over. Let me out, and take me home.

  Food and water are in the cage, but I am not hungry. I stay in my basket all day and through the night. I slink out only to go to the litterbox.

  Surely Karen wouldn’t have put me in this place if she had known how miserable I would be. I keep telling myself that she loves and cares for me, and hope that she will come back to take me out of this awful place. But the days pass, and she doesn’t come.

  In the early light, I edge out of my basket. Many cats before me have left their mark on the cage. To feel safer in the cage, I know that I must cover their scent. I listen to the sounds of other cats around me calling, asking for food, or begging for a run. Their overpowering smell has me rushing back to my basket. When I venture out again, I rub my body on the cage wire to remove some of the foreign scent. I am unable to settle, and jump from the top of the cage to the bottom, again and again. The horrible cat worker comes to check up on me. She tries to touch me, and I hiss at her. Before I know it, instinctively my paw armoured with sharp claws is poised ready to scratch her. She curses loudly, quickly withdrawing her hand.

  She won’t dare to touch me again. At least now she knows how I feel about her. She is horrible, and so I will call her Horrible from now on.

  Cats face me, and are on both sides of my cage. A black and white female Tabby is on one side and a handsome striped male on the other. Opposite is a pale, fluffy Persian.

  ‘He’s a Bengal,’ I hear Horrible say, pointing to the handsome stripped cat.

  Black and White is aggressive. She hisses, shows her claws, and then turns her back on me. Handsome Male rubs himself on the wire.

  He wants to be friends. Purr pree prup prup welcome, he says. He has a much larger cage than mine, and part of a tree to climb. Not Fair! I watch him climb the tree. He is fast and athletic!

  Persian opposite is long-haired with a magnificent, cream coat. She is a vain, show-off who is not interested in communicating with any of us. Horrible says she is a prize winner.

  A young Human comes to talk to me. His voice is kind, and immediately I like him.

  ‘Cool it, pussy cat,’ he says. ‘You’ll be fine. You won’t have to even see that woman you don’t like. Many of the other cats dislike her too. I will look after you until your owners come to pick you up...and they won’t forget you, I promise.’

  I allow him to pat my head.

  With this Human, I will be safer.

  ‘You can come out for a walk if you want to.’ He opens the cage door, but I stay in my basket.

  ‘That’s fine, you can come out tomorrow...as you like.’

  He puts down some wet food for me, but I am not hungry. Handsome Male eyes my food. He is hungry.

  The lights go out. The other cats call, and in the dark I feel scared. At last I sleep. Tonight, my dreams are not of the distant past. They are about my house, my garden and Karen. I wake when the pale sun shines onto my basket.

  The young Human cleans my litterbox. I see Horrible walk past. She looks away, disliking me.

  The young Human talks to me, as he opens the cage door. ‘Come to me. Come, Pretty Girl!’

  I put my head out. Slowly I move towards him. He allows me to smell his hand before he touches me. I can tell that he respects cats. He strokes my head, and then the rest of me. I start to feel calmer. I know he cares about me.

  He puts my food bowl and water down in front of me.

  ‘Eat Sweet Girl.’

  I eat a few of the strange tasting pebbles and drink water.

  ‘Have a little sleep now. We’ll take a walk around later. if you want to,’ he says.

  When Horrible passes my cage, I growl at her, show my claws and teeth. I hope she’s scared that I’ll bite her.

  Sleep is my escape until I hear his voice again.

  ‘Come Pretty One, let’s take a little walk.’ He opens the cage door. I follow, but I am still afraid – my belly close to the floor, my ears back and tail down. As we walk, passing the other cats in their cages, some call out to me. One hisses. The young Human strokes my head, and walks close to me.

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ he says. Uncertain once more, I stop to look up at him. ‘Do you want to go back to your cage?’ He asks. I allow him to carry me to my cage.

  I rush into my basket to hide.

  After a few days, I am more accustomed to my cage and the other cats. My walks are enjoyable. I run around the other cat’s cages, and in the fenced garden. Back in my cage, I am engrossed in watching Handsome Male. He knows he is good to look at with his cute bum and lustrous fur coat of spots and stripes.

  I count the days of my incarceration. This is day twelve. Will it never end? Will Karen ever come back for me?

  At last, I hear her voice. She has returned from her holiday.

  Cats Alive! About time too!

  She talks to me, but I ignore her. I am placed in my carry box for the drive home with all the stopping and starting. The door of my box opens. I am home in my territory again.

  ‘Welcome home Bella,’ she says in her sweetest voice.

  Though I desperately want to go to her, smell her and feel her hands touching me, I cannot. I hurt too much inside. Filled with conflicted emotions, I run and hide.

  ‘What’s the matter, Treasure? You know how much I love you, and that I wouldn’t ever leave you there.’

  She calls me several times. Eventually I go to her with faltering steps. I lie on my back exposing my tummy, expressing my hurt. As she is about to touch me, I feel the hurt again, and I sit up. Then she is on the carpet next to me holding out her hand. Slowly, I rub my head against it, and allow her to stroke me.

  I leave her. Now, I have the extremely important task of examining my territory. I check the entire house to ensure that all is safe – as I left it. In the kitchen, she opens a tin – a mix of tuna and chicken. I can’t resist it. Soon the food is gone. I clean my mouth with my paws.

  The period away from my territory and Karen was awful, even though the nice Human tried to help me. I adapted to life in the cattery, but it drained me emotionally. Right now, I no longer love Karen unconditionally. I am too afraid of losing her. She will have to prove herself worthy of my love and trust all over again.I watch her every move. I follow her and sleep lightly. Will she stay with me or leave me again? Can I trust her love? If she goes out, I wait for her at the front door. At night, I lie so close to her that our breaths mingle. She is mine, and filled with Cat Love, I dare not let her go. In her sleep, she pats my head.

  A few days later, I recover my Catness, but I am not the same naive cat. I realise that anything could happen to disturb my security.

  The air is cool inside the house. Outside the wind bites. While I was away most of the leaves fell from the trees.

  Karen and Tony sit close to each other as they watch television, and talk. Their holiday seems to have helped them, even if it did nothing positive for me. The room is full of loving feelings. When Karen and Tony are happy, Karen has less time for me. I have to get used to it, I tell myself.

  At least the atmosphere in the house is joyful again.

  When it is time for a long sleep during the night, I begin my sleep rituals. They are specific, important rituals based on our distant Cat Past when we were vulnerable to predators. Indulged, domestic cats no longer need the rituals, but they are part of us and seem wired into our brains. Stray cats without secure homes revert to these rituals, and need them to stay alive. Rituals reinforce Catness – our security and survival. I regularly change the places where I sleep at night, choosing from several spots. It is dangerous to be too predictable and defenceless when asleep. I eat and drink facing the door. Food could distract me. I need to be vigilant – aware of any enemies. I take no chances. Before a long sleep, I circle my sleeping pla
ce several times to ensure it is safe. I watch new Humans carefully too, before approaching them.

  During the early hours, I patrol the entire house, check that Karen is safe in her bed next to Tony, and jump onto her side of the bed.

  I know that Karen understands cats, and me in particular, but I doubt she understands the reasons for some of my rituals that make her laugh.

  It has been a few weeks since Dane has visited Karen. I am happy to see him again. He is not holding onto his mother this time, and runs into the room to greet me.

  ‘Hello, Bella. I missed you so much.’ His hands and arms are tightly wound around me, cuddling, nuzzling and kissing. I rub his hand with my cheek. Finally he lets go, thank goodness, and I nestle in his small arms.

  ‘How are you Dane?’ Karen asks.

  ‘I’m so happy. Mum and dad say that I can have a puppy.’

  ‘We hope that a puppy will help Dane,’ his mother says. While Dane’s mother and Karen talk, he hugs me and begins to cry.

  As much as I dislike hugs, I put my paws around him.

  Slowly, and in a soft voice, he tells me about the fire in the house next door. I feel sleepy as he tells me his long story. I miss a lot of what he is saying, but I stay close to him. Somehow, I know it is important for him to think I am listening. That is my job, my purpose, I tell myself.

  I try to stay awake, but by the time Dane leaves with his mother, I am asleep.

  ‘Dane left feeling much happier, Bella. You are an excellent therapist,’ Karen says, as she gives my head a pat. ‘You are getting better at it all the time. I love you!’

  After being in the cattery with many other cats, the house seems quiet. Outside the grass and leaves in my garden have withered, but Karen has remembered to plant sufficient catnip, and it grows in abundance.

  I am bored, lonely and restless. There are fewer mice and rats in my garden now, but I run around to exercise and pretend I am chasing them. Though I play with Karen most days, it is not enough for me. The cats that come past my high fence to chat can’t even join me in my garden, but I wish they could.