In a recent comment, one of my followers said she
thought I was a bit hard on Kandy the cat. Maybe so, but let me explain why I’m
not at all keen on felines.
My dislike stems from when I was about six months old.
I had just settled into life in France when my very existence was threatened.
It happened this way:
One day Linda spotted a sick cat in our field. It was
a Siamese version. David gently placed it into a box and took it to a vet in
Villefranche, about 40 minutes away, because my vet friend Huguette, who lives
nearby, was away at the time. I’ll tell you more about her at a later date. The
vet said the cat was dehydrated and starving. They gave him a number of
injections, intravenous fluids and kept him in hospital for three days. The speculation
was that he’d been chasing lady cats, but had been beaten up by the
competition. Served him right if you ask me.
Linda and David brought him home, having paid €350 for
his care, and began nursing him back to health. I was friendly enough to him, but
he didn’t seem to want to be friends with me.
He became very jealous of me. He didn’t want me
anywhere near Linda. If I came close he’d hiss, extend his claws and strike at
me; all for no reason. I had to walk a long way around him to prevent being attacked.
This was terrible; I’m very good natured, but enough is enough.
By now cat was fully recovered and with Linda’s care
and brushing, he was looking very good. But Linda and David decided he had to
go since he wouldn’t act in a civilized manner. They took a photograph of him
and put it in the window of the local shop, offering him to anyone who would
give him a good home.
We started getting calls. (Well, he was pretty and
butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth when he wanted something.) Around this time Linda
took him outside with her. He climbed a tree and looked at her as if to say:
“Look at me, aren’t I just the bee’s knees and what every lady cat wants!” With
that he jumped down and disappeared. Although David and Linda searched for him
for three days, he was gone. For good! I didn’t join in the search.
Good riddance I say. He was the bane of my life. But
now you know why I don’t trust cats.
My boyfriend Twister does not know I am following your blog, so this is between us. I have to tell you I live with 4 cats. I can only have a quick chase in the evening when it is dusk, but by jolly can I make them run. Funny thing is through the day they come on my bed and try snuggling. I put up with it for a quiet life from my humans but I do not think you could cope, Rupert.
ReplyDeleteBy the way Rupert I am a rather fetching golden retriever and i think you would like the way I smell,' essence of cow ' behind the ears.
Love Bonny Johnstone
Bonny - I must say I don't envy you having to put up with 4 cats. Yours do sound somewhat more tolerable than the one I wrote about.
ReplyDeleteGolden retriever, wow I like golden retrievers especially those of the female persuasion. We must get together some time. As long as the your perfume cover the scent of cat we'll get along fine.
Wooks Rupert