CATS

I am one of the last people who should be writing about Cats. I am an inveterate dog-lover, I have never owned a cat, childhood acquaintance with Alice’s Cheshire or Pooh’s Tigger passed me by, I have not seen the Lloyd Webber musical, know nothing of Macavity and I regard Dr Johnson’s feeding of oysters to Hodge as conclusive proof of his eccentricity. And yet, suddenly I find myself looking at Cats with more affection.

Cats gave my dear mother the heebie-jeebies. She put it down to a clawed scratch when she was a girl, but all cats had to be banished from her presence. This was easily enough done in Scotland but in Greece to sit in an outdoor taverna could be a martyrdom for her. Greece is teeming with cats of an inquisitive and importunate variety. A neighbour played hostess to 26 semi-feral cats at her peak and the local council had to be summoned to organise a drastic cull. She now has a mere 3 but several others wander about foraging in our vicinity.

I did not inherit my mother’s phobia but I was simply indifferent to cats. Cats seemed to me slightly sinister and disdainful. A good London friend had a black Persian cat called Lucifer, magnificent but haughty, and Ernst Blofeld’s satanically inclined cat in the Bond films confirmed my prejudices.

Blofeld's white Angora

I could not see the point of cats. They did not seem to show their owners much affection and feline loyalty is not their strongest suit. Who has ever heard of Greyfriars Moggie? One seriously obese, grumpy-looking ginger cat comes to our garden, sits on a table and glowers; we call him Venizelos, after the seriously obese and grumpy-looking Greek foreign minister and leader of PASOK. Another grey feline is a notorious chaser after the ladies and is known as Strauss-Kahn. In Samos our local Tom is a disreputable serial father and ill-favoured white chap called Oscar.

All this unpromising history influenced me against Cats. But I realise now I had got cats all wrong. A year or two ago a girl-friend of my son asked us to look after her rather decrepit cat called Pewli; we agreed only reluctantly. With trepidation we got in some food, cat litter and set up a basic bed. Pewli took little notice and then at night suddenly disappeared. We feared the cat was lost forever and frantically went out in a search-party with plaintive calls and a hurricane lamp. At about 4am Pewli reappeared with not a care in the world and quietly went to bed. She repeated this nocturnal performance every night. She began to take an interest in her landlords and was soon to be found by day stretched over our laps purring contentedly. After 10 days we had created a bond of affection and much regretted Pewli’s departure.

This summer on the Greek islands we have been blessed with several clutches of local kittens. There is no denying that kittens are irresistibly cute and we have gone all gooey watching them eat, play and sleep.

 

 

Kittens Galore

Our hearts have been softened (probably our heads too) and we are thinking of adopting a colourful Athens cat we call Patchy. At present he lurks around our garden and we occasionally feed him with Whiskas to his astonished delight. Should we take him on?

Patchy, our current favourite

I read that there are about 500m cats world-wide and that 34% of US households own a cat. In the face of such overwhelming statistics, I retract unreservedly any disparaging remark I ever allowed to pass my lips about Cats. They are obviously the salt of the earth and must be cherished accordingly. My warmest salutations to the legions of cat lovers! But they come in a gallant second. I confess, I still prefer dogs.

SMD

18.11.14

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2014