Write about what you know - or cats

More Cats : part 6- The Spanish invasion

I’d sort of ended up staying in Spain for the time being, more or less by accident (and certainly you can read more about that elsewhere). When it came time to move from my first year’s rental, it was the spring of 2012 and I had found a lovely sunny sheltered cortijo near the river not too far out of town, with a garden and big gates and no neighbours in residence, peaceful and private. The ups and downs and changes to that scenario are also detailed and grumbled about elsewhere but this is a cat story.

Yes another one, seems I am never to be rid of them (the cats AND the stories).

So there I am thinking I am going to be free of any responsibility for the first time ever, choosing somewhere to live entirely on my own criteria. But there are greater plans afoot of which I am blissfully unaware.

I looked at this place five or maybe six times what with bringing various people to see it or where it was before I moved in. There were often a couple of cats keeping an eye on proceedings. I thought that might be quite nice, to have a cat or two who might visit now and again. My request for the identity of their official residence was greeting with a typical Spanish shrug and little by way of information. But I soon found out the truth.

I moved in and I think the operation was observed from various vantage points as well as the occasional close up inspection raid. So when the first proper visitor appeared after that, I introduced myself and the conversations started.

These are very clever cats, not least because they speak English so we had no difficulty in communicating in the literal sense of the word. Hello, I say, I live here. They say, hello, so do we. Oh. I reply.
My daughter comes to stay just after I move in. We sit in the garden when the first ambassadors arrive which we mistake for a casual stroll not an official sortie. The smallest, sleekest black cat, surely it is a kitten still, with big green eyes, enquires what have you there, ah it is fried soya. I say to Ellie - she won’t eat that, Ellie says - Let’s see. She does, impeccable manners and then, one moment please, could you give me a minute?, then she returns with a similar delicate little ginger puss with whom she shares these impossibly small morsels (thus ensuring immediately an increased supply to allow enough for sharing and  huge respect for her manners), - look how sweet, how caring, she brought him back to share.
 
Day 1 – cats 1, humans 0.

Day 2, No sign of the Shadow or Sandy (at what point DID I start giving them names?) but here is another impossibly small cat, the prettiest tortoisehell ever (apart from Pickle, our UK version at home with her relations in Ellie’s house) and a stripey one. They come as a pair. Ok, they are suitably grateful for small mercies and we don’t read anything more into this than that they don’t all hang around all the time as this is a different pair today.

Round 2 - cats 2, humans still 0.

Another day of this and I do start to wonder how many variations there are in who comes to say hello, and I think it is as well that every window and door has a mozzie screen or the buggers would be in the house before you could say stop, but I still haven’t really cottoned on yet. I told you they were clever.

The next day they turn up en masse causing mild consternation and a hurried enquiry as to how many they are. 6. What has been going on behind the scenes is that Shadow, the most innocent and appealing is actually the brains behind the outfit and they have held meetings to decide strategy. Right we can’t all go at once so two at a time, cutest first, go and make a point of sharing, that should make a real impression, let’s regroup each time. How did you get on – ok, good, how about you, yes? Ok and you lot? Well, she’s been ok with all of us so far, now time to risk it then, we all go together and see if she freaks out when she sees us all together. They did, I didn’t, I think I know when I’m faced with a fait accompli and they all go off sniggering saying that was dead easy wasn’t it, a right pushover, her.

Remember what I said about my first cat and setting the rules to start with? You’d think I’d know better by now. Come on, I never even particularly wanted a cat in the first place and look how many I’ve had to bury since, never mind just feed.

But I tried, I really did. Maybe their English isn’t so hot and they just nodded a lot so I thought they’d understood, or they are typical cats agreeing to your face and doing exactly what they please behind your back. I’m not giving you proper food, I said, OK they said, we eat anything. You can have scraps, ok ? yeh yeh yeh we like those, we do. No bowls or special plates, it’s on the deck ok? Yeh yeh yeh no prob we don’t mind honest. And you have to share. Of course of course. And so they did, visibly enthusiastic about and grateful for yesterday’s plain pasta, stale bread in water flavoured with a drop of milk, it was all received and disappeared in record time in a big heap of furry bodies outside my door. Two gingers, two stripeys, a black and the tortie. With names. Oh dear, I’m on the slippery slope, I should have stopped at dry stale bread and "Oi you".

But who was I kidding? I just wasn’t generating enough scraps and they weren’ t budging, so I thought I’d better buy them some cheap cat biscuits. They must have spies in Liddl or a crystal ball or something because when I got out of the van back at home, there they were, all 6 of them looking expectant. What? I enquire. Go on then where is it they demand.  - Where’s what? - (I’m playing for time.) You bought us something didn’t you?  -No.- Yes you did. No I didn’t. Well I did but it was meant to be a surprise.-  Aha!  -How did you know…….I might as well not bother, No, you might as well not bother, could we have some now please?  I feel like Johnny  Morris sometimes. I can practically hear him as the voice of these cats.