What in Catland is he up to?
The hole is too narrow for me, but he could’ve slipped through it easily. I call out for him again. No reply. I call and wait for him in the cold, but he does not come home. Frozen, I return to my heating vent and wait for Karen to emerge from the therapy room. She seems to take ages.
Meeeeow! Meeeeeeeeeeow! I call. I run to Oliver’s usual spot at the vent, to show her that he has gone. She calls him too, searches the house, and then as I did, goes outside to look for him. I follow her, show her the hole in the fence and the heap of earth.
‘The little devil has run away.’ Her voice is both worried and angry.
‘Oliver, come! Oliver!’ She calls again, but he does not come. She waits, and calls again and again. She goes into the street to look for him, and visits the neighbours. No one has seen him.
When Tony arrives he’s upset about Oliver’s disappearance. In the dark, he searches and calls for Oliver.
‘He’ll come home,’ he says, hopefully. But, the following day, Oliver does not come home and the house is too quiet.
Sad Rats! I have to admit that I am missing Oliver. I am fonder of him than I thought. Where could he be, and in this cold weather? I hope that nothing awful has happened to him – that he hasn’t hurt himself, or been in a fight.
I think of his restlessness, due to being held captive, as he put it. Most of the time he managed to balance his frustration – his gratitude to Karen and Tony for the loving home and food they provided with his desire to wander, prey on smaller creatures, attack and dominate. His need to be wild and free appears to have asserted itself, and won. For a while, scratching his pole, chasing mice and insects in the garden was satisfying, but it was not sufficient.
At Oliver’s age, I wanted to escape too. Not to hunt and dominate, but to mate and have kittens. Though I called to males who stalked the fence, they could not reach me. Then Karen took me to the vet to be neutered. It is not something I want to think about, as it upsets me too much.
Tony leaves the cat door open in case Oliver comes home. He goes to the tiny door every few hours hoping to see Oliver coming through it.
He is so distressed that he talks to me for the first time. ‘Where is the little devil, Bella? I miss him so much!’
Tony’s brief discussion with me, the first ever, surprises me so much that I go back into the garden. I call for Oliver again as loudly as I can, but I doubt he can hear me.
Stinking Fat Rats! Where are you, Oliver?
Karen is concerned that he has sufficient to eat and is warm enough.
’A few days ago, I was at the point of trimming the tips of his claws to stop him climbing the curtains, but I’m glad I didn’t,’ she says. ‘He needs his sharp claws to survive out there.’
Another day passes, and another, and no Oliver. Tony looks miserable and avoids mentioning Oliver’s name. The intensity of his love for Little Blue Eyes surprises me. I listen out for Oliver, but I have stopped calling for him. Though I do not want to accept that he has disappeared from my life, I hope he is alive and well. With him gone and the Brown Cat no longer visiting, I am lonely and a little sad.
Karen notices that I am unhappy. ‘I can tell you’re worried about Oliver. Sit in the therapy room with me,’ she suggests.
Being with her gives me reassurance and I stop thinking of all the awful things that could’ve happened to Oliver. My unhappy mood passes soon. It is replaced with anger. At least he could’ve told me he was leaving, and not just run off while I was asleep. Perhaps he didn’t care if I worried about him.
Just as well we cats remains miserable for only a short while, Catness, our instinct to survive reawakens, and we continue. We are vulnerable but strong. We know that our lives are brief. Most wild cats live very short lives. At least indoor cats usually live longer. I appreciate each day and forget about Oliver.
Karen is preparing food in the kitchen and Tony is in his study working.
Cat Alert! Suddenly I hear scratching from outside the cat door. It doesn’t sound like a rat or possum. Could it be Oliver? I listen and recognise his meow.
All the Cats in Catland! Little Blue Eyes is back! He’s home with us! I run to Karen, then Tony and stand at the cat door meowing. Tony had closed the door, thinking that Oliver wouldn’t return. Tony hears my call first and runs to open the door.
Oliver races into the house. He’s skinny and filthy!
‘Oliver’s back,’ Tony shouts excitedly.
Karen runs to see him. They are thrilled he is back, but he is too smelly to cuddle.
He is so thin that his bones protrude.
‘You look as if you’ve been starving. You’ll need feeding up. First some food,’ she says, as she opens a tin of food for him.
He gulps down the food and asks for more.
She opens another tin but gives him the food slowly – one teaspoon at a time.
‘Easy does it. If you eat too quickly you will vomit.’
After he’s eaten, she calls him. ‘It is a cold night, but I will have to bath you, Oliver. You’re dirty and I have no option,’ Karen says.
I hear the water running in the laundry and hide, in the event that Karen decides to give me a bath too. The last one I had in the warmer, summer weather was disgusting. I watch from behind the curtain as she grabs Oliver by the scruff of his neck like dirty washing, and puts him into the tub of soapy water. He begins to yowl, and a Siamese cat’s yowl is dreadful. I heard him yowl once, when Karen squirted him with water. Hopefully this is the last time I hear it. Then he is out of the rinse water, and into a big soft towel. He dislikes the drying process even more than the bath, and he calls out again. When he is partially dry, Karen places him in front of the heating vent. In a few minutes, he looks like a pretty, feathery ball. Once completely dry, he licks himself all over, so that he smells like a cat again.
I am relieved and delighted to see him, but I hide my feelings and turn my back on him. Bad Cat! He has to know that he has upset me, and that I am angry with him. At least he should’ve shared his plans with me.
He comes to me slowly, rolls on his back exposing his vulnerability, to say he is sorry. I walk away and ignore him for a few hours to punish him. Then, I approach him. We rub each other and I lick him like a mama would lick a kitten. Later, we cuddle together on the big bed between Karen and Tony. We are a happy family again. I ask him about his adventures during his disappearance, but he is too tired to talk.
Our daily life continues as usual. Today, I am in the therapy room when Max visits Karen for the first time. He looks uncomfortable, and would prefer not to be there.
I am more precise about human ages now, but I have advanced very little in understanding human behaviour. Max is about seventeen, sloppy with untidy hair, and wears a crumpled shirt.
I hear him tell Karen, ‘The doctor said I had to come to see you.’ He gives Karen a letter.
‘You don’t have to be here, Max,’ Karen says. You can leave any time, if you want to.’
‘Well, now that I’m here, I suppose I’d better try to find some help.’
He looks at me for the first time. ‘Hey Kitty Cat...nothing seems worthwhile lately does it?’
Karen listens for a long time, as he tells her how miserable he is.
I’ve said it before, Karen’s patience and memory for what Humans say in this room is incredible. Unlike me, she doesn’t become bored and fall asleep.
‘I have tried talking to my parents, but they don’t get it. They think starting a study course will help me, but it is not the answer. I don’t have any answers...and sometimes I feel like giving up.’
He tells Karen that he is not sleeping well, eating very little and unable to concentrate on his studies.
Max is sick...another sad teenager. He is like a kitten who has lost his Catness. I hope that he comes to see Karen again before he becomes sadder.
At the end of their time together, he thanks Karen for listening to him, and comes to my baskets to pa
t my head. ‘Cheers Kitty Cat,’ he says. ‘Maybe I’ll see you again.’
‘I hope to see you soon, Max,’ Karen says.
Tony has been out early and returns with a friend. Together they carry heavy rocks into our small garden. They secure the wire fence by placing the rocks around its base, blocking all the holes. Oliver will not be able to run away again.
He is recovering from his adventure by sleeping most of the day. Karen seems worried about his thinness and feeds him special enriched food. He moves from his basket only to eat or go to his litterbox. I wait patiently to discover where he has been. He holds on to his story like a precious chicken wing. At last, tonight, he decides to tell me his story.
‘The pads under my feet itched. All I wanted was to run. In my dreams, a wild cat talked to me, urging me to break out of my easy life, and be free. After weeks of struggling to resist the need to run away, eventually it overcame me.
Once the hole I dug was big enough to escape, there were no decisions for me to make. I was drawn to the field near the house. I stumbled over rubble and raced through the tall grass, aware of the smells and sounds of the many creatures that lived there. The sky was above me and I was free, living my dream.
The cold discouraged older cats from leaving the ease of their owner’s homes. This meant that a large group of younger, wild cats were able to claim most of the field as their territory. I was not one of them. There were too many rules to obey in the big group. I avoided their scent boundaries and hunting areas. They survived by scrummaging in garbage bins and hunting small animals. The big group was safe from owls and foxes that preyed on their kittens, but it wasn’t for me.
Fortunately, I connected with some of the other runaways. Together we established our own community and had territory on the edge of the field. Food was scarce and we mainly hunted for mice. I made no challenge for leadership of the group, and refrained from fights, but my dominance was easily established. When I filled my body to its full power and height, the other cats were aware of my strength. They avoided any contest with me. We managed to live together without major problems, apart from times when the females were in season, disrupting the peace by calling for mates.
A group of Humans lived in the field. Runaways too, I guess. They set up places to live with bricks, stones and tents. They made fires at night to keep warm and cooked meat they bought. They often called us, but their dogs lying next to the fire kept us away. One Human in our territory preferred to be alone. He erected a tent and made his own fire. There were no dogs with him, and he was pleased to have many of us around his fire at night. He had his favourites who slept with him in his tent, but I wasn’t one of them.
Dogs living in the houses near the field were our greatest threat. Though they had food at home and were not hungry, they came to the field for the fun of hunting cats, or tormenting us. They are energetic, powerful creatures, but not much of a match for a fast cat up a tree. We are stealthy hunters able to sneak up and pounce before a kill. I found dogs stupid when not in packs or without a leader. In modern times, they are too accustomed to the easy life to be true hunters. Their barking and heaviness on their feet gave them away to a smart cat keen to survive.’
I do not agree with everything Oliver says about dogs. I have learned that they can be a formidable enemy.
’So what made you decide to come home?’ I ask.
‘The cold, discomfort and missing my home, you, Tony and Karen. My adventure was over. It was time to grow up, but I don’t want to be like you – so settled and stable.’
Karen eats lunch and I have some of my pebbles. We sit quietly on the couch together. Our calm is interrupted by the ringing phone.
As Karen listens, her happy face disappears. ‘Oh, I am so sorry that Tamara has passed. what a lovely young person...such a sad loss, but at least she is free from pain and at peace now.’
Sad Cat! Tamara had a deep kindness. I hope her spirit is free and resting now.
Karen stands and stretches like a cat.
‘I’d like to rest for a while longer, but we have to leave soon, Bella. Benjamin is still in hospital and he has asked to see you.’
With my harness on and my lead in Karen’s handbag, we leave for the hospital.
Today, we have no trouble finding the cancer ward and no one stops us to ask questions. Benjamin is sitting up in bed waiting for us.
‘Hi, Princess.and Karen too. Thanks for paying a miserable dude a visit.’
‘Good to see you, Benjamin.’
‘Call me Benjy...please.’
I jump onto his bed, curl my tail around his arm and snuggle into his chest.
He has so much vitality that I hope with help from the doctors, he will fight back and recover.
‘The doctor has just left. The news is that I need stronger chemo and radiation therapy for the tumour in my lung, but he was fairly positive and thinks it will help. I need Bella’s soothing purrs to make me brave.’
As they talk, I close my eyes. I open them again when Benjy tells Karen that he was a massage therapist before he became ill. While in hospital, he has been studying to obtain further qualifications.
‘I’ve massaged adults, children, horses and even dogs, but I’ve never worked on a cat. You’re going to be the first cat, Princess...a present from me.’
He adjusts his pillows and pushes himself up to a sitting position.
‘Right Princess, I’m putting you on your side. Say meow, if I’m hurting you, or if you want me to stop.’
His strong fingers travel down my spine from my head to my tail, finding the tight spots in my neck and back. He works on my legs and sore muscles that I don’t know are there, and eases them. There are brief moments of discomfort followed by the pleasure of released tension.
What an incredible experience!
‘That’s it. You can sleep a little now,’ he says. ‘Your body will feel light and relaxed.’
I dream I am with my friend the duck. I have a cat’s body with wings that allow me to fly. I am flying over my garden and all the houses I see from the half-tree.
Then I hear Karen’s voice bringing me back to the hospital ward.
‘Wake up, Bella,’ we have to go.’
‘If you’re in the hospital, please visit me again Princess and Karen,’ he says with a wave.
‘Keep positive Benjy,’ Karen says.
A nurse from the children’s cancer ward asks us to visit some of the children to cheer them up.
‘We are going there now,’ Karen says.
It is a short walk from Benjy’s bed to the children’s ward. I can hear their young voices in the distance. The ward smells of strong antiseptics and sickness.
A nurse rushes towards us. ‘You’ve brought Bella, great! There’s going to be huge excitement in the ward.’
Karen takes me out of my carry box and attaches my lead.
‘I think you’re going to enjoy this, Treasure,’ she says.
‘She’s here, the beautiful ginger cat!’ One child calls out as she spots me. Then the others shout and their voices blend. ‘Come to me!’, ‘I’m first’, ‘Me please!’
The nurse claps her hands. ‘One at a time! Bella will come to each of you for five minutes.’
Karen takes me from bed to bed. Every child pats me or has a cuddle, and I purr for each one.
The sick children are all beautiful, and I can feel their loving, gentleness. I hope I am making them happy. Two of the children whisper to me and touch me kindly. I sense that these children love cats even more than the others. I beg Karen with my eyes, to stay with all of them a little longer.
She reads my message and we stay longer.
Oliver has put on weight and recovered, but I’m not sure if he has settled down. Even in the cool weather, he is outside almost every day. Now he is at our garden fence calling to other cats passing, some of them females. Though he is maturing emotionally, his body seems to be on another course. At night, he listens out for the wails of female cats in seas
on, and his restlessness tells me that he wants to be with them. I think of the magnificent kittens Oliver could father. Trouble is definitely brewing.
Tony is discussing Oliver with Karen. ‘He is developing quickly, but that is common with Siamese cats,’ Tony says. ‘We will have to watch him carefully. He is restless at night.’
‘Perhaps he should be neutered now,’ Karen remarks.
‘Give him a little more time. He’s still so young,’ Tony says.
We are all in the television room after a quick meal Tony brings home.
‘It’s Chinese take out,’ he says.
‘A bit of chicken for each of you,’ Karen says, placing a few bits on a plate. They enjoy the food and eat it with strange, thin sticks, but we don’t like the smell or taste of the food and leave it on the plate.
‘You cats don’t know what you are missing. The trouble is that neither of you will try something new,’ Tony says.
‘Cat’s like what they know is safe to eat, and has the taste they like,’ Karen says with a shrug.
Once the food is cleared away, I curl up in Karen’s lap and Oliver goes to Tony.
I am warm and cosy. It is time for Cat Contemplation:
I’m starting to change my mind about Tony. He has to be a decent, caring person, or Karen wouldn’t love him as much as she does. He helps Karen a lot. He does vacuuming with the buzz machine. Often he brings home dinner so that she doesn’t have to cook, and occasionally he washes up after the meal.
Oliver tells me how kind Tony is – that he gives him special tasty treats, makes toys for him and plays with him often. I must’ve come at the wrong time after Samantha, or perhaps Tony doesn’t like ginger cats. I am glad that he is a happier Human now. Perhaps his job worries have been resolved. One day I hope he will like me more.
Huge Stinky Rats! I can smell it from a distance. Oliver has sprayed his pee on the carpet in the sitting room. This is the first time he has sprayed.
He is growing up and trying mark the house as his territory. I wish he had more self-control.
Bella Page 13
