Ghost Cats

Nearly a year ago we had to say goodbye to Paddy, our ADHD white cat. As Mrs O. said, he managed to charm everyone with his feminine ways.

Mind you, I don’t miss him peeing on my laptop.

“What, me, Dad? Pee on your laptop, Dad?

“No, must have been some other thick white cat….”

I still catch glimpses of his shadow, eager for food when I come down in the morning, or hear him rushing up the stairs to come and scrabble on our bed. In the evening he would sit and let me stroke him (for up to 60 seconds at a time!) before he shot off. Very occasionally I still look for him when I sit on the sofa.

They say you are either a dog person or a cat person. I am definitely the latter. I like how you can never really own a cat, only live with them and care for them.

Kinky was the first cat I got to know. She and two siblings had originally been abandoned kittens rescued by Mrs O. from a plastic bag on the common. Now she was a lovely cat who was, however, rather jealous if we were too close together on the sofa and used to butt her way down between us. It was a sad day when she died, although she waited for Mrs O. to get back to her family home. She was kinky because of a bend in her tail.

Our first cats together were Malt (because he was the colour of malt whisky- he was formally Glenmorangie) and Titty. They were lovely with our young girls. We found the eldest curled up in their basket with them, undressed; the second girl’s first word was “cat” and she would walk round holding them by their necks. They survived and were always attentive. Titty would sit and beg. She was named after a mishearing of Nefertiti, a rather pretentious cat owned by an acquaintance. It caused much embarrassment when we had to go outside and call “Titty! Titty!” at bedtime.

Malt died and is buried in the garden, a nice surprise for future owners. Titty went on and we acquired Paddy and Tinkerbelle to keep her company. Titty was tiny compared to them but was definitely the boss until she just went to sleep. Here she is, shortly before she died.

Tinkerbelle was blind in one eye after an attack by a human, possibly with a stick. She was a delightful, loving cat. We thought Paddy would go quickly when she eventually had to be put down, blind in both eyes; but he soldiered on for a year.

Now we only have ghost cats. New ones would be too much of a liability (apart from the effect they have on wild life). I see the old ones out of the corner of an eye, or see the cats over the road start as if they have come to say hello.

Ghost cats. I never thought I would be so fanciful and romantic.