When I came back from Scotland, the first thing I did was say hello to the animals, not literally because that’s mental. I mean I went to find them and pet them; to let them know that their real master has returned.
Missy my dog was delighted but then again, when I leave the house to go to the shop she leaps on me in a “WERE HAV U BEAN?!?!?!” kind of way, cool it pooch, I was only gone five minutes; if only women were like that right?
Then I’ll go and stroke my cats but they don’t give a fuck because they’re cats and they only like two things, being fed and catching random animals and plonking them outside my door. But never the less, I may as well pet them when they’re around.
I’ve only really liked three cats in my entire life, the first one was Mischief because he was proper ‘ard, he chased dogs away; hell when he was younger he caught a bird in mid-air, ripped off it’s head and presented it to me. That’s respect my friends. We got him when I was a kid, I can’t remember a time before Mischief was around, but alas with all animals they die before their owners, he got old, got some kidney/liver disease and had to be put down. I remember him swiping for the vet as he was sticking the needle in him. ‘Ard to the very end.
Then there was Ziggy, who we got not long after Mischief, eventually either by fighting other cats or otherwise she had to have an eye removed at a young age, I was about 5 when this happened; I still remember her eye being all purple and damaged, poor thing. She had it removed and the eyelid sewn shut but she managed all right and was alive for a long time after that had happened, she used to keep me company in bed when I was a kid, wait until I turn the TV off then come and lay alongside me and she’d be there in the morning; always a good start to the day.
She ended up dying a couple years before Mischief, I can’t remember what the exact reason was, I just remember her losing a load of weight and just being ill all the time.
My new favourite then became Suzie, unlike the previous two I actually remember her being a kitten and how playful she used to be when she was a little ball of fluff, jumping for my feet when hanging over the side of the bed, not sticking claws in or anything, just doing it to make you jump! Or she’d hide behind my bed, I’d look between the gaps in my headboard and she’d leap at me. She also used to be obsessed with licking people, I don’t know if she was washing them or loved the way humans tasted. You’d be asleep and you’d be awoken by the cold nose and sandpapered tongue swiping at your feet in the middle of the night!
Every day when I’d come home from work, I’d have my dinner, then the cat would come in and jump in my lap, lick either my arm or my hand for a few minutes then fall asleep, it was a nice welcome to have after a stressful day at the office. She ended up getting run over a couple years ago and a neighbour found her poor mutilated body in his garden.
Obviously I’ve had/got other cats, my mother always has three at a time, but I hate getting attached to animals now; each of the cats I mentioned above were awesome for their own reasons but when they go, you’re left with a void and I’m fed up of that, especially with cats because some of them have just left the house one day and never come back. Unless they’re mistreated, cats rarely actually run away, they usually get run over and go off and die somewhere. I had a cat called Tigger who disappeared one day, had him for about 8 years, it would have been a sad day but we didn’t get on. He wasn’t a friendly cat. When Suzie died, my mum got a kitten and named it Gizmo, it was a right little shit and that too ran away and never came home, I wasn’t all that bothered either.
So to keep the quota she replaced Gizmo with Midnight who we’d only gotten recently, she was a nice cat, she kept my mother company the entire time she was ill and wouldn’t leave her side. She used to lay across my chest when I was asleep.
The day I came back from Scotland, last Monday, Midnight left the house that night, by Wednesday she hadn’t shown her face, by Thursday it was obvious she wasn’t coming back, she never leaves the house over night let alone be away for most of the week. I felt a bit sad, she was just a little thing who had probably died alone in a field somewhere; she was still new.
My mum phoned dad and said “looks like we’ll have to get another cat, Midnight’s ran away.” So my dad comes home Friday and me and him groan at the prospect and getting yet another cat but he does it to get a peaceful life from mother, so Saturday afternoon they go and get a new kitten off of a friend of theirs, a 12 week old little ball of fluff, named “Jay” because he’s white but has a black letter “J” on his back.
I come home Sunday after being at my friends the night before and I see the new kitten, give it a stroke, then my dad says, “Guess who came through the door last night?”
“Who?” I said.
“Midnight.” My dad says.
Apparently the cat came home early hours Saturday night looking as good as she’s ever been! So if she hadn’t been run over and killed, where the fuck had she been for almost a week?! I suspect she either got stuck somewhere, like a garage or someone just straight up catnapped her and kept her locked in a house, she managed to escape and came straight home. All I know is since Saturday she hasn’t left the house.
I wonder if she knows Jay was her replacement, maybe that’s why none of the cats like the little one. In any case, they’ll get used to him eventually and now we have four cats. =/
My mother is one step closer to being a crazy cat lady.
Still, kittens are the best.