Be More Cat

Just before lockdown, we got a rescue cat, Tulip.

We didn't know it was about to be lockdown.

We did know she was a cat.

When she first arrived, she was really scared.

A scaredy-cat.

She pretty-much spent most of the first couple of weeks in our house hiding, under our sofa.

She is a beautiful cat, so calm, so placid.

She has no tail, or at least, not much of a tail to speak of, other than a little stump no longer than my thumb.

We have no idea, of course, how, or why - whether she was born like that, or whether somehow, at some point, she was harmed.

Tulip is sweet, calm, loving.

She mostly stays in the house, she likes to bask in the sun, she usually can be found wherever the sun will warm her body for a while, napping, curled up like a croissant, head nuzzling her body.

She loves human contact when she wants it, she will come over and nuzzle for a while, let you stroke her while she purrs away, contentedly.

In a house full of noise, children, shouting, music, she is a constant - relaxed, relaxing; calm, calming.

She occasionally likes to be played with, but there's only really one type of toy she likes as a distraction, something which you can drag on the floor near her which she will stalk while you drag it along, and she'll pounce on it, then scratch the shit out of it as if it were some kind of animal she has a primal urge to annihilate.

Mostly, she’s chill.

A few months after we got her, we dispensed with the litter tray, as she wasn't really using it.

To this day, we have no idea where she goes to do her business, but it's certainly not in the house unless she's either hiding it incredibly well, or somehow, discreetly, she's actually able to use the toilet - which would be rather surprising but, at least according to some videos i've seen on youtube, not entirely out of the realms of possibility.

A couple of years ago, during one of the lockdowns, one of my boys had his Bar Mitzvah weekend, and for a couple of days, friends would drop by, and bring presents for Freddie.

On the Saturday of that weekend, as i was wandering down the stairs, i saw towards the bottom step a strange-looking mess.

We'd had Tulip at that point for about 15 months, and this was the first - and to this day only - time, she'd actually brought us a 'present' from outside - a dead bird.

I honestly believe she knew that people were bringing presents for Freddie, and this was from her.

It was at once both incredibly sweet and thoughtful, and disgusting.

She is great at instigating feeding time.??

She sometimes just goes and sits patiently, looking at her bowl until we realise it's empty, and it's about that time of day.

She usually wants feeding around 5.

Yesterday, i was scheduled for a few late-ish calls, and i realised at around 7pm that i'd not seen her since i'd been home.

I asked the boys, as casually as i could so as not to raise much suspicion -? 'Have any of you seen Tulip?' - none of them had.

'I saw a different cat, on my roof', said Freddie.

'Was it Cindy?' - i enquired?

'Yes' - he replied.

The cat next door, twice Tulip's size, quite aggressive in comparison to our little girl, with whom she’s had the occasional disturbingly loud fight, albeit separated by the glass in our garden doors; but nevertheless violent enough to leave permanent scratch-marks etched into the thick glass.?

I tried not to let it play on my mind.

Around 9pm, I was on a call, but i suddenly felt a little nervous about her wherabouts, and i felt, perhaps, a little cold, concerned, cautious - worried.

I continued with the call, and at around 9.30, after 30 long, distracted minutes, i jumped out of my skin as something brushed past my leg - and there she was, in the gloom of my darkened room, a few metres away from me, patiently sitting, waiting.

I stretched out my hand, she came over and rubbed her head against it, telling me she was fine, don’t worry, all is good.

I felt a mixture of relief and pride - relief she was back, pride that she'd been out on her own for such a relatively long time, a sense of wellbeing about how far she’d come from those early days of hiding under the sofa, to being able to venture out, goodness knows where, with whom and to what effect.

Tulip teaches us all valuable lessons - about the nature of nurture, about emotional intelligence,? love, care, sensitivity, independence, interdependence, affection.

Sometimes, we should all be more cat.