My love for cats

I have a confession to make. I am a crazy cat fanatic. It is inevitable, as night turning to day.

You see, much of my youthful life was defined by these furry creatures - cats and kitties that strayed into the back-yard and got themselves adopted, invading my childhood life. I remember surreptitiously sharing my allotment of food with them, earning the chagrin of parents who felt that pets are beyond our luxury.

Our current house pet is a single male cat. We plucked him from the streets, to spare him from what would have been a miserable life. A life of scrounging and sniffing out scraps at food centres, like the lot of so many stray cats.  Our young nation ranks high on affluence to compare with some of the richest cities in the world, but for the average cat, it is usually a life of poverty. Back-alley third world low life. Most people in our country live in government housing and the existing housing rules forbid cat ownership, making ours the most cat-unfriendly country in the world. 

So for Mickki to be rescued from the streets, it was like a cat striking lottery. He has been an affective part of our family for the last 15 years.  We showered him with love and a measured dispensation of discipline, usually to his utter displeasure. But that single act of cruelty we inflicted on him still haunts me to this day. We  neutered him at a tender age. Mickki was defecating all over the neighbours’ lawns and I was fast turning into public enemy number one in my neighbourhood. The vet advised us that his aggressive tendency to mark territory by defecating needed to be culled. And castration was the solution. It deprived the poor animal of the joy of sex. To this day Mickki’s virgin status against his will, still makes me feel guilty to the core.

My daughter C calls me “the crazy cat-man” each time I share pictures of street-cats I capture on my hand-phone. But it is odd for her to say that. For someone who spends an inordinate amount of time ogling and giggling at cat videos on the Youtube as if the Internet 's sole purpose is for broadcasting cat videos.  And who, amongst her other two siblings had inherited the lion’s share of my cat-loving genes.

Jenny on the other hand had little affinity for animals, aside from watching wildlife documentaries on Discovery and Nat Geo channels. A rare fault if I could highlight any.

“I am neutral, neither love nor hate them”, she would nonchalantly declare. I would be embarrassed if I were her.

But thanks to my daughter’s love for cats, Jenny was more tolerant of having a cat in the house than I could ever hope if I was the sole animal-lover in the family. We have to put up with scratches adorning our leather sofa, clumps of fur stuck on the carpet and the fragrance of pungent cat poo in our garden. She grumbled and complained of course but we knew that in the end she would always find space in her heart for the animal too. Because of her love of two other cat-crazy members in her flock.

The more playful feline, perched on a tree and posing for a shot

This week I discovered a couple of fine looking felines just outside my work-place that brought some cheer to my work-week.

How does a homeless community cat get this fat?

On Monday morning this week, I decided to walk from my campus to the nearby coffee-shop for the first time. Along the way I chanced upon two of the finest looking cats I have ever seen. One was overly shy and maintained a guarded distance but the other, a grey-striped tabby was playful and friendly, in need of stroking and physical contact. This feline discovery gave me impetus to establish a new morning routine for my morning cuppa. Taking the same path, they were there again as if waiting for me to come by to greet them.

My two new-found feline friends helped brighten up my days this week. But come Friday evening, a cat discovery of another sort, completely swung the mood.

I came back home to find our Mickki half sitting and lying with its scrawny frame propped against the edge of the garden lawn, its body bent at an awkward angle. It gave a mournful meow and looked at me with tired forlorn eyes. Something was very wrong. I immediately hollered for my daughter C, Mickki’s main care-taker and soul-mate. Indeed this ancient pet of ours is unwell. For some reason it has lost control of its two hind legs and appeared to be in some discomfort and pain. There was no sign of any external injury on its matted coat of fur to suggest what might cause its misery.

Our raggedy ancient cat under treatment by the vet. He is not happy anymore.

My daughter, sick cat care-taker. He is not eating much, sad to say.

We rushed him to the vet.  Pain-killers and some other medicine was administered and because he was so old the vet did not recommend further tests. There could be a lesion or some injury at his spinal cord. 

Back home, he now lies on a pile of soft towels at a corner of our living room, immobile and helpless. He has to be propped up to lap on his water tray and slowly fed with a spoon, eating little as his appetite has all but deserted him.

We fear that he may be living out his last few remaining days.  And the animal appears to be aware that his internal clock is counting down and ticking away. We gently stroke him and massage his shoulder bones. His expression changes little. That blank and faraway look in his eyes.

Do I not know that look well enough?

Jenny wore a blank look too during her last days. Speaking little also. But we know it was hard for her to talk. It would be too draining on her energy. She was sustained intravenously by a liquid menu of vitamins and parenteral mix for some weeks already. There was also a thick plastic tube inserted thru her nostril down her gullet to drain out the gastric fluids. It near disabled her vocal functions. So in her silence, she often wore that faraway look.  In her eyes I could see that she was all too aware. Knowing that for her the end was coming. The clock was ticking away.

Sigh. It is hard for my thoughts not to gravitate back to Jenny. In her last days. As if all our life together was defined and condensed over those days within the hospital walls.

But back to Mickki. We love this cat, so his eventual passing would bring about some sadness. But probably more to my daughter than to me. Cat crazy I might be, but I am not so emotionally vulnerable for an animal.  He was blessed to have found a home, luckier than the average cat that walked this island. A country of mostly unhappy cats.  And he had enjoyed a long and healthy life, well-fed and well-loved by its owners.

Mickki, we all die one day and you will also be mourned. You lucky cat.