The other cats #3: The feral
(Cats I don't really count as mine. See also #1 and #2.)
The kids grew up, started uni, moved out. Bill and I sold up and bought a country property.
Our cats, Ishtar and Sam, adored the place: fourteen acres, half of it uncleared bush. They were neutered, but we said Sam got his balls back. He started doing macho things like leaving uncovered scat on rocks: an assertive territorial message.
A big black cat started hanging around. Young, male, wary — one of the ferals our neighbours had mentioned. We wondered about taming it, but were going on holiday.
When we returned, our house-sitters told us they’d reached the point where ‘Blackie’ (their name for him) would let the man hold him. ‘He's a nice boy,’ they said.
We tried wooing Blackie ourselves. One time he came close enough and stayed long enough for me to sketch him. I'd been doing a landscape, just mucking about. I made haste to draw him where there was space, in the blank sky.
Sam started picking on Ishtar, as if to drive her away. Incomprehensible! They’d always been close.
I began hearing Blackie make strange calls. Sam would go out, walking stiffly, self-consciously, bringing Blackie food. It became apparent they were both bullying Ishtar. I'd rescue her, but couldn’t always be there. She was in a constant state of terror, losing weight, looking sick. Sam clearly wasn’t happy either, made to do Blackie’s dirty work, though he obeyed meekly. Not so macho after all.
No way would I have my sweet, gentle Ishtar victimised. We lured Blackie into a crate, slammed it shut, phoned the vet. I explained: feral cat terrorising ours. Would he put it down? (I'd pay.) He would.
Imprisoned, Blackie went crazy. Bill reached between the slats to soothe — and pulled his fingers out fast as Blackie lunged, shrieking in rage.
‘I phoned about getting this cat put down,’ I told the girl on reception.
‘Ohhh! Would you like to sit with him and say goodbye?’
‘You’ve misunderstood the situation. Be careful opening that cage.’ I walked out.
Sam and Ishtar, hugely relieved, became themselves again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A long time later I found the sketch. His black shape floated in the sky.
‘I drew him as a ghost!’ I thought.
Shared with Poets and Storytellers United via Writers' Pantry #72.
Nice story Cats can be naughty. We had a yourg one teasing the old one. The pour old cat didn't dare to go outside anymore. The young one walked off. We couldn't find him anywhere. Was good for the old one though.
ReplyDeleteElderly pets, like people, run out of energy to be dealing with lively youngsters.
DeleteCats are just so intriguing, Rosemary, and I’m so enjoying these stories. With fourteen acres to run around on, your cats had no reason to stray far from home – and I bet there was no dangerous traffic. Poor Ishtar, my girls know what it’s like to be bullied. There was a ginger tom that used to terrify them, but we haven’t seen him for a long time; I think his humans moved away. Do you still have the sketch of Blackie?
ReplyDeleteI'm sure I have it somewhere, and had hoped to find it to illustrate this post, but it must be packed away.
DeleteIt sounds as though he didn't want to be domesticated as he remembers his past too well and needed to be in control.
ReplyDeleteYes, feral cats are very hard to really domesticate. If we had not had other cats, it might have been a different story.
Deletevery vivid sketches of all the cats (i went to read #1 and #2 too). you gave each one of them a character that is so unforgettable. cat #1 really got to me. under better circumstances, you two might have got to know each other better.
ReplyDeleteYes, that's the one I have regrets about. But I hope s/he had a happy life with other people.
DeleteOh Yikes! I'm glad Ishtar was OK in the end.
ReplyDeleteYes, and lived to happy maturity.
DeleteWhat a story! Who knew the cat world would be so thrilling and so like human life.
ReplyDeleteThey are very interesting beings!
DeleteBa-boosh, Blackie. If only you stayed away. I'm relieved for Ishtar and Sam.
ReplyDeleteMe too!
DeleteThanks for sharing your pet stories
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday
Much💚love
You're welcome.
DeleteWow! Such a vivid recount, Rosemary. I hope Blackie didn't claim any skin (or fingers!) at the vet's office.
ReplyDeleteThe vet himself was well aware of the situation. I'd warned him over the phone. So hopefully he managed it all right. I never enquired. I didn't want to think about Blackie any more than I had to. What I did felt necessary and right, but also an appalling betrayal.
DeleteI enjoy reading about your adventures with felines .... they are beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteNice to hear about Sam, Ish, and Blackie. Most feral cats will come to eat but don't hang around. Mom had dozens of them that she would feed, even had an abandoned hog house that she could use as a cat house for their shelter.
ReplyDelete..
Sadly, Blackie was quite a young cat I think, and probably tameable, if only.... But Sam and Ishtar were my responsibility to look after, and I could see no other solution. I didn't have my big dog yet, who would certainly have discouraged any attacks on the cats who were family.
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