Part time Cat - Anne Reinéry (nonfiction book recommendations .TXT) 📗

Part time Cat

She invited herself in.

I never knew how to behave around cats, never wanted one as a pet. I thought even that I didn't like them, that I am more a dog person. At least with dogs you know where you are. Cats always make me feel extremely uncool. You can love a cat but don’t expect to be loved back.
Well, all that was before her.

Because to get a cat you needn’t buy one yourself. We have been chosen by a cat who belongs to somebody in the neighbourhood.

It was the children’s fault, really. They started playing with her in the street and then she came to our house. Sat on the lawn, meowing, trying to enter. First we said no, no strange animals, but she has a way with her. Looking at you, winding herself around your legs. And purring. Oh, the purring is a sharp weapon and cats know how to use it.
And anyhow, cats don’t take no for an answer.

She is black with several white flecks on the belly. Rather baggy behind, no longer a young beauty. But this doesn’t make her movements less elegant.
Her owners apparently haven’t read Kipling. They named her Bagheera. But anyway, a cat doesn’t react to its name.

They took a younger cat in because they thought her lonely. But Bagheera is the jealous and not the lonely type. She didn’t approve. She found herself a new home without soft pawed competition.
Ours.

After two weeks of her coming and wanting to stay with us, following me around in the house, letting the children pet her for hours without ever lashing out at them with her little sharp claws, not asking for much space just wanting to be stroked, we succumbed to Bagheeras charme.
She is not like other cats, we said. She brought us even a present. To the childrens’ horror and our delight (they ate up everything in the garage) we had a dead mouse on the terrace.

We talked to the neighbours, trying to find out how attached they were to her. They didn’t give off signs of wanting to get rid of her. She is just sulking because of the kitten, but she will get over it, they said.

We would have kept her but we didn’t want to make an unfriendly take-over.
So she comes to our house, gets milk but no food, sleeps the day on what became her easy chair which is covered with her blanket but in the evening she has to leave.
Last week this part-time model seemed to be finished. Over night she stopped coming. It was my fault really. She had fleas and I treated her. She didn’t approve. For three days we were catless.

The children cried. We said, yeah, that’s the way with cats. They are unfaithful. We knew it all along.

For two days we waited for her to come back, then I put away her milk bowl and washed the blanket. But we kept looking for her, wondering how and where she was. I started musing about getting my own cat.

Then one morning, she was back as if nothing had happened. Taking back her easy chair, waiting for her milk. I ignored her a whole morning, she didn’t even try to make up. No elegant turns around my legs. Of course she won, I couldn’t resist caressing her.
It’s been more than three weeks now. The children adore her. I still try to keep up appearances of not paying much attention to her. Nobody believes me, they know she has her little pillowcase on my table where she snores gently while the keys are clicking.

Text: Anne Reinéry
Images: Anne Reinéry
Publication Date: 02-09-2012

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