I spotted a stray cat hanging around our yellow garbage bags a few years ago, and it is still hanging around – inside the house.
It wasn’t a kitten, but not full-grown either. Starved of course, as it was in the midst of a severe winter, so cold it could freeze the (you know what) off a brass monkey. He was an attractive thing, orange from his forehead across his back to three white rings on his tail, the balance was white as well. Its green eyes beheld desperation to be better off than it was but still suspicious of every little thing. I managed to pick it up but it scooted out of my arms. It did cautiously follow me around to the back deck where it disappeared underneath for marginally more comfort. Later in the day I left some food on a chair sitting on the porch. In the dark of the night it disappeared. This went on for a week or so. It began eating out of my hand next and soon I was able to stroke its bristly fur. I couldn’t tell if it was more delighted or I was.
Eventually the first signs of spring began popping up everywhere. It was time for a change. I checked all the neighbours to see if they were missing a cat of his description and even put up a notice at Kenny’s Store. No replies. I had already chosen a name for my new acquaintance though it was still on probation.
Muffin, a tom cat, became his handle for no particular reason except that he looked like a muffin. The next move was to leave an entranceway into the kitchen. Muffin peeked in occasionally and finally he entered for a quick peek but only momentarily. Eventually, he took the plunge and graduated to become the newest member of the household. I already had an older cat and a dog neither of which took any notice, as if he was only a passing phase. Muffin, now looking so comfortable and sitting on my favourite chair, had a lopsided grin that seemed to say, “I’m here, lock, stock and barrel.”
He did have remorse about where he originated from – the jungle-like conditions of the little creek that runs through Westmeath. Every couple of weeks’ wanderlust would kick-in and he disappeared for a night or two. Could he be lonely or looking for closure? In dread, I searched almost endlessly. Muffin had me between a rock and a hard-place once. My brother, from out of town, came to my place for a friend’s funeral that we wanted to attend in Pembroke. Unfortunately, Muffin dashed by him through the door to the outside. I was torn between worrying about Muffin or going to the funeral. The cat won out. My brother said later, “Your priorities are screwed-up.” He didn’t forgive me for a long time.
Things were moving right along for Muffin; he had plenty to eat and toys to play with. Then we inherited a new kitten, pure white with vivid blue eyes. Muffin, who was quite plump and full-grown by then, tried to dominate the new arrival, who was both long and thin. ‘Peanut’ was very fast on his feet and feisty too, so managed to stay out of harm’s way. Now they have both matured and they still fight but are evenly matched. As well as step-brothers, they are friends too. Yet they are different. Muffin sits beside me whenever I’m in my living room chair while the more independent Peanut sits on his own chair but always watching. However, Muffin is a scaredy-cat, nervous about anything if out of its position, like a shoe or vacuum cleaner. He is also afraid of visitors, taking to hiding if someone comes in. I wonder what he’ll do when coming face-to-face with a mouse! Peanut, on the other hand, loves company and gives his welcoming performance every time.
Of course, they are spoiled too. My partner hangs Christmas stockings with special treats, and other occasions, like Valentine’s, St. Paddy’s Day and Thanksgiving, they also have something special to look forward too.
These two felines have provided me ample serenity during their life at home, as well as raising some alarms. Occasionally I annoy myself by imagining being forced to give one of them up. I could never in my life make such a painful decision!
