Part 9 - Eight? That was nothing!
So, back in Spain and I’ve gone from nought to twelve in two months, or so I thought but blow me, there’s another stripey turned up while I was away. I'm allowed to stroke her but she's not very nice to the others, a bit impatient to say the least. Maybe she's their mum after all. I had a free look at the possible dads* who all came calling before the girls were neutered.And the good news (yes I didn’t forget, the bad bit was getting even more cats. Well, sort of bad) is that in my absence, my cat sitting lodger had mentioned them all to the mad cat lady of Nerja herself, a veritable one woman mission to neuter and feed every street or campo (countryside) cat – and she’d only been round with her cat catching box and nabbed them off to the vets one by one. I counted the nicked ears (that’s what they do to show they’ve been neutered here) – shock, horror! Eight of my nine were girls and only little Sandy was a lad. Imagine five kittens per litter at least twice a year……….it didn’t bear thinking about. And what’s more, Shadow and Mezcla were not kittens after all but adult females and just small due to undernourishment and poor development.
We’ll see about that then. (You should see them now, twice the size).
OMG I have thirteen cats and I am fast becoming the reserve mad cat lady of Nerja.
Only it was a bit of an unlucky number and poor old “mum” had trouble breathing which I couldn’t accept was at all normal, and then she went from skinny to like a football despite being too puffed out to eat much, and finally the mad cat lady came to take her to the vets. I manhandled her into the cage (yes more scars to prove it) and promised her she’d get fixed and come back better.
Turns out I lied, but not on purpose, and I’m so sorry you spent your last day in a stupid box at that woman’s flat waiting to go to the vet to be put down because you had peritonitis and there is no point opening you up to be sure. I didn’t know, “mum”, I just knew you were ill and I wish you had got better, Goodbye and I’m so sorry.
Back to twelve again.
What will happen in my absence over the summer??
Well actually, nothing much. My cat-sitting lodger has pitched his tent in my garden for the summer and is wielding the tin opener in my absence. They behave a bit better for him because he is not overly fond of cats so no point in pushing their luck.
When I return Fudge swears she will never leave me or let me go again. She’s been missing for a week at a time and it seems she must be waiting in vain for me to return down by the river The other lot have a go at this too but without missing any meals in between, so walking up the track, I feel like the bloody pied piper or maybe Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music with a child falling in behind her every so often, collecting cats emerging from under fences on either side on the way. By the time I reach the gate I have almost a full complement.
Fudge also has a doppelganger, one which slips in and out as unobtrusively as possible once in a while but does not appear regularly so I think no more of it. Fudge comes home with an infected paw and costs me at the vets. My cat sitter has already gone to his winter billet when I get back, and I think he probably couldn't wait for a cat-free environment though he's been coming back to feed them.
We settle in for winter with an assortment of old quilts and cat beds under the awning at the back and seat cushions on the garden chairs to try to make the outdoor lot comfortable. Shadow is first to bag the one she wants, but mine don’t get it, they sleep indoors so they really don't need to try out other people’s beds. Really.
The windows here are fronted by mozzie screens and then wrecker bars, providing a ledge between the screen and the bars for one or two cats to snooze, and they do. Opening the shutters inside the window often reveals a startled feline face. I worry about them when it's cold and even more so when it rains and is windy, but invited in, they don't settle and the English lot sulk. My lot stay in more and take advantage of sharing the bed especially when the electric blanket is on.
I'm beginning to think I might be bored on my own after all. Not that I'm going to get the chance to find out.
* The main contender is a big ugly ginger tom with a stiff gait, a square
face and frequently battle scarred as well as deaf. I discover his
deafness as well as his tenacity when later on I try to dissaude him
from popping in for a snack.
I'm sure I will get round to mentioning him again later.
I'm sure I will get round to mentioning him again later.