October 19, 2009

• My Catty life

  Dear reader, if you know me well then you know that I have a cat and that I am what you would call a "cat person". In fact, one of my friends has predicted that when I die, I will be discovered 6 months later surrounded by anywhere up to 35 cats. There is a good chance that this will never happen - I have no intention of dying.

  At present, I have one cat and she is a minor source of entertainment to those around me. Firstly, I tend to talk about her in the same way that people talk about their children - being a card carrying non-breeder, she is very much like a child to me, except a lot cleaner and I can legally put her outside when I want some peace and quiet.

  Secondly, and this isn't my fault, her name is Buffy. My younger brother (the ex-fat bastard - he's lost weight) was responsible for naming her as I was at work on the day it happened and couldn't slap him around the head. At the time he had a very unhealthy obsession with Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I think he still has it, but nowdays he's having it in Tasmania where that sort of thing would probably be pretty much classed as normal as being your own uncle (along with having two heads).

  Buffy became part of the family in February of 2000 and the story of how she came into our lives is in no way interesting or controversial at all. My neighbour had found a litter of kittens that had been abandoned in a dumpster where he worked and rescued them. He found homes for all of them except one little ball of black fur and claws and in a last ditch effort, he offered her to my mother. Since one of our other cats had been put down after it contracted cancer, we took this tiny little black kitten that constantly mewed in and my brother cursed it with the aforementioned lamest of names a few days later.

  Meggs, the ginger tom who had the run of the house at the time, was both unimpressed at the idea of an interloper and a very caring big brother at the same time. Cats can be very complex psychologically.

  My mother was the figurehead owner of Buffy but, being a cat of immense independence, she was going to have none of that. For most of the time, ma was nothing more than the provider of food and a lap to sleep in. When I came home from work, no matter where she was in the house, Buffy would come running the moment I opened the back door and would then spend all of her time sitting/sleeping on me.

  When my mother passed away a few months later, I inherited both cats. I really didn't mind it because they were both pretty much low maintenance and outdoor cats. Buffy didn't seem to notice the absence of my mother, but I think Meggs did because his personality changed and he suddenly had a desire to spend more time indoors and became much more affectionate.

  When my younger brother moved to Tasmania in 2001, that left just me and the two cats to fend for ourselves which was a pretty agreeable situation and I looked forward to my quiet cat filled life. About a year later, Meggs had to be put down after suffering a stroke. He was about 18 years old and I buried him up behind the shed.

  Once again, Buffy didn't seem to notice the demise of another member of the family and continued on with her life of causing distress to the local mynah birds and carried on living with being constantly dive bombed by them for eating one of their number when she was younger and more foolish.

  Buffy has a couple of scars on her body and a hole in one of her ears as the result of encounters with a number of the local stray cats who seem to be attracted to my house for some reason. A couple of years ago, she almost lost her left eye because of her propensity for protecting her territory and getting into fights. Thankfully the vet was the kind who was reluctant to operate and, other than a slight deformity in the pupil of the eye, she pulled through. She became an indoor cat of a night from that time.

  She's nearly 10 years old now and sheds fur like there's no tomorrow. I'm starting to find gray fur here and there but she hasn't hocked up a fur-ball in a long time and believe me, that's definitely a good thing. I'm fairly certain she sleeps almost 20 hours a day but will still yawn at me when the alarm goes off in the morning as though she's been out partying all night and only had a couple of hours of sleep.

  It surely sounds like she's becoming a teenager.

  Later days.

  Trivial fact number 204:- Chop-Suey is not a native Chinese dish, it was created in California by Chinese immigrants - yet, like real Chinese food, you still feel hungry 3 hours after eating it.

  • 8:38 am
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