Cue cute alert (read I’m after brownie points, please like this post!)
I realised yesterday that the two posts in my blog that relate specifically to cats may (have) upset cat owners, and therefore I apologise.
It’s not that I’m adverse to cats or dislike them, in fact a landlady at a B&B had one ginger tom that didn’t like people, but he came and sat on my lap (no I was not in his chair) and fell asleep. Another time it was me who saw to a new kitten which had been taken from its mother too early and bottle fed it every few hours.
It’s just that I prefer dogs, and therefore it is unlikely that I will opt for a feline companion.
Growing up, our family had a cat, a big black and white tom called Timoty (note: no ‘h’) . Or at least that what I was told he was called if ever I mention him, as I always thought his name was Whiskey .
He was a mouser, and would line up his catch in order of size on the back door step, unbloodied and whole, but very much dead.
His party piece was waiting on the wall column by the gate for the men to come home.
First my grandfather : the cat would jump on his shoulder and be carried indoors, only to exit again and take up his vigil for my Dad, when the performance was repeated, and finally my brother. Timoty would then curl up in front of the fire content that all of us were present and accounted for.
Sadly it was a rat that got the better of him in the end.
The first bite healed, but a few months later a second only scabbed over and the infection spread internally despite the vet’s efforts.
It was a one way trip that day, and I think Timoty accepted it as he purred softly in my grandfather’s arms as Dad drove away.
We never got another cat, but dogs came and went in our household, so I guess that’s why I am more familiar with them.
On our travels this time we met up with a single boater who had a cat rather than a dog on board.
It had beautiful soft velvet grey fur, and stared at Maggie from the galley shutters as she walked by. I thought at one stage there was going to be fisticlaws, but Maggie looked, met the cat’s gaze, and walked on.
Apparently the cat was used to living and traveling on the water, and quite content to sit on the roof either cleaning itself as cats do or surveying all and everyone. It didn’t hiss at anyone, was quite sociable if anyone approached it, and in the cool of the evening, curled up at the feet of its master as he relaxed on the bank (that’s his boat bottom right of this picture).
There are many dogs here and the three cats that come on to the marina don’t belong to boaters. We were talking to a lady a little while ago who had enquired about a permanent mooring here and she had two cats as well as a dog.