Of cat companians, furry friends & clever cultures

• Farewell dear cat companion:
• For three months we have been saying goodbye and then one Saturday sadly the time has come to bid our terminally ill cat "Goemie"('G' & 'oe' like 'g' & 'oo' in google) her final farewell. As she has lost control over her bladder during the cause of the previous week as an after-effect suffering from kidney cancer, we decided to take her to the vet and have her put down. She would have turned 16 years old on Friday the 23rd of March.

• Off the feline tree:
• She was the second kitten of the second litter of "Spokie" ('o' like 'o' in work; meaning "Little Ghost"), a beautiful and proud black-and-white house cat Hubby gave me shortly after I have moved to the West-Coast (of South-Africa) in February 1990. We called her father "Ou Geles" (the rasping 'g' from the throat, in Afrikaans of which there is no equivalent in English; and the first 'e' like hmm...maybe first 'e' in election and the second 'e' like 'i' in whiz; meaning "Yellow One"). He was a big, soft and quiet half-ginger. (I guess his father must have been a ginger cat and his mother white and Persian.)

• Fluff-father:
• "Geles" somehow must have lost his voice or never had one. In the years he use to come to my house in Vredenburg, (on the West Coast) I have not once heard him make a sound, not even a squeak. He would slyly come through the back window of the spare room I always left open for "Spokie", went to the kitchen, ate her left-over's and ever so slyly left again. It took a while for him to realise I am not chasing him away - why should I have? Besides being such a cat lover, I was too happy not having piles of tinned Sardines I bought for a fraction of the usual shelf price at the fish factory in St. Helena Bay, go to waste. "Spokie" could never finish a tin herself in time before it - once opened - had started to go off. So "Geles" eventually became a daily visitor at 15 Welgemoed Street, not only scooping a bite any more, but also starting to groom himself and taking a little nap in the spot of morning sun in the spare room sometimes. Many a time he patiently sat and wait in front of the fridge for what must have been hours I suppose, should there not have been left-over's in "Spokie's" bowl, till such time I eventually stumbled across him and fed him. The only times he later searched for me in the house, was when he got hurt in a fight. That was after the first time I encountered him in such a state and cleansed and bandaged his wounds. He silently gleamed gratefulness.

• Oh bother, what mother!
• "Spokie" on the other hand, always searched me out with a very loud voice where ever I might have found myself in the house. She was a very keen and able huntress and would proudly come and throw her 'catch-of-the-day' down at my feet. She liked mice, lizards and big, green grasshoppers. I was not very pleased having her brought these creatures into the house and having found myself on top of my desk in the study a couple of times till she was done playing and eating. I quickly learned to recognize her: "Hi-I'm-here-with-my-prize" call - from the throat as she had something in her mouth - when she entered through the window. I would then immediately run to her, pick her up with what she might have caught still in her mouth, putting her into the empty bathtub and locking her in the bathroom, before she could bring it to my feet.
  

• She also saved birds as a special delicacy - well, I guess they were not as easy to catch though - that's maybe why it seemed so. She never, but once, brought birds into the house. She would catch and eat them, not play them to death as she would with her other pray. The once she did bring a bird into the house, was one very early Sunday morning. We were still asleep in bed and she loudly announced her arrival with prey as usual. I sleepily got up to take her to the bathroom when I realised she had caught a little bird. She lightly held it in her mouth and since it has not been injured as yet, I took it from her to go set it free from the back door. Needless to say she loudly protested and ran after me trying to reclaim her prize. As I reached to open the door, the bird wriggled, freeing itself from my hand and after scattering against the wall, fell to the ground right at my feet. When I tried to grab it before "Spokie" could reach it, I accidentally stepped on it and squashed it beneath my slipper. Instead of saving the little bird from her, I ended up serving her little bird for breakfast - spatchcocked nogal! I've learned my lesson though - never to interfere with nature, let the cat have her bird and eat it too!

• Mother-to-mother...:
• We perhaps best remember "Spokie" for being a 'telltale' on Hubby & me. It has not been long after we got married that my mother came to visit for a while. As I was up the West-Coast and Hubby in Cape Town, we have been together just weekends. One Saturday afternoon during this time, my mother took a nap in the spare room, closing the cats' window (so to speak) as it was a bit windy. The house, part of a scheme of subsidized homes for the aged, has been rented for me by my then employer from an elderly couple not yet occupying it themselves, but who had it partly furnished so long. Hubby and I felt like a bit of 'fun', but as the double bed in the master bedroom had a very squeaky mattress and knowing my mother to be a rather light sleeper, we took to the back seat of the little Fiat Uno I use to drive at the time, in the garage. On our way, we saw "Spokie" wandering around outside but did not know the window to be closed at the time. She must have seen us gone into the garage and as she could not enter at the window as usual, she started miaauwing at the top of her voice in front of the garage, which was just at the outside corner of the spare room and close to the window usually open. It was just then we heard the window being opened and my mother asking: "And now "Spokie", is their a mouse on the loose in the garage?" (Well, at least the planned fun turned into lots of laughter! And the game has been given away...)

• In the mix:
• The name "Goemie" does not have any significance. I actually called her "Bubblegum" at first. Being Afrikaans speaking, "Goemie" sort of naturally developed from "Gummi". In hind sight, it could well be said that she was like the different colours of her parents being 'chewed' together like bubblegum to make her the tortoise shell cat she was. She had a big, shiny and very beautiful, jaguar-like, black and white brother. In comparison to him she was a rather ugly kitten and we decided to keep her as we thought we would not get a home for such an 'ugly duckling' of a kitten being female and all. But she became a delightful pet who gave us lots of joy. And turned into a lovely "swan" of a cat too.

• Awh, little paw:
• One of the things she use to do, was to wake me up by gently patting me on the cheek with her front paw in the morning. Well, it usually became much more urgent with a hint of nails, as I am not an easy morning riser and often sleep right through the noise of any off-going alarm. Unfortunately she did not stay as polite when we finally joined Hubby in Cape Town. Quickly realising that he wakens to the slightest noise, she figured there's no need to wait for breakfast way past the alarm has gone off; in fact, she became our alarm. (At least she did not become another "woman" in Hubby's life that he had to struggle to get out of bed. When daughter Curly arrived later, unfortunately she took right after her mom! But then again "Goemie" would have been the one of us three "women" in his life he would not have mind if she was exactly like me too!)
  

• She was like her mother "Spokie" being a rather proud and lively cat, but a bit more like her father "Geles" being good natured. Yet unlike him, she was very much home-bound. She never wandered off into the streets. And she hunted for beauty and out of curiosity, not prize, play or hunger. She only caught butterflies and sometimes moths of colour. Sometimes she would curiously give the odd cockroach a go, but then rather suddenly shrieked at the very sight of it and turned away.

• Fierce feline sibling rivalry:
• Her natural curiosity immediately brought her close when I arrived home with Curly after her birth and although she was a little hesitant at first, she quickly took to taking her naps close to where Curly was. When Curly started crawling and could not resist bothering her, she was patient to a point. I was on the telephone in our room and Curly was playing on the floor. "Goemie" sat close by watching her. When she became much more interesting than the toys, Curly quickly crawled towards her and started to pull at her tail and ears. "Goemie" pulled her ears flat, and while flurrying her tail in irritation, turned her head towards Curly and tried to "miaauw" her off and moving away a bit. Curly would immediately follow and on catching up with her, started working on those very ears and tail again. I realised this display of "sibling rivalry" had the potential to quickly turn into a full-fledged fight and I ended my conversation just in time to come from the room and into the hallway, where they have moved meanwhile, to see "Goemie" grab Curly's head between her front paws and bite her on the forehead. She then ran off, very much annoyed and obviously furious.

• Sisters-a-like:
• I guess I must have yelled and Curly was crying profusely by now. Yet as I rushed towards her rescue, I realised there was no sign of injury whatsoever, not even a scratch. It then struck me what "Goemie" was trying to accomplish. It all came together very clearly. What my own older sister had tried to accomplish many years ago, thís "older sister", even though a cat, was doing too. In that split second my minds eye recollected what Sussa so often did when I bothered and irritated her - she grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me like a rag doll and all the while hissing through her teeth: "Kan jy dit nie in jou kop kry om my uit te los nie?" ("Can't you get it through your skull to leave me alone?") "Sorry Sis, but that's just the way it was. No offense. And I guess I must admit having been a bit overbearing at times." Funny enough, the age difference between "Goemie" and Curly has been the same as between me and Sussa - approximately 6 years.

• Wee-bit like a child:
• According to animal experts it's not such a good idea to treat your pet as a child, but I guess we sometimes just do and when it came to my cats, I am truly as guilty as sin. As far as "Goemie" was concerned, it was quite clear. I would always pick her up, hug her and kiss her behind her ear. She would sit on my arm and put her one front paw on my chest and the other adoringly on my cheek - almost like a little baby would do with a mother.

• Cat-cabulary:
• And she liked "speaking" to me and "telling me stories". The first time she actually did this, was when I moved back to Cape Town. I use to go outside with her for the first week or so, to help her adjust to the new environment and settle in well, as I imagined it quite a change for her from country-to-city cat. She would cautiously paced both the yard as well as pavement one paw after another at a time, sniffing every plant, bush, stone and inch of ground. After every sniff, she would look up to me and tell me in no uncertain terms that a lot of strange (could also have been stray?) cats are roaming the area. I must say, she really must have appreciated my re-assurance, for it did not take her too long to start wandering off a bit by herself.

• She quickly learned to go in and out through the balcony window and as we only live on the first floor and the balconies have been build on top of the garages, it was easy for her to get to the garages' roof and then find her way down to the ground. Later, as she became older, it got a bit more difficult and the last two years or so, she could not really manage to get down or up again and rather prefer to go out via the front door by way of asking politely or sometimes urgently, depending on her particular need of the moment. Sometimes she just wanted to wander into the corridor and find a spot of sun to bask in for a while. At other times she would call me along to either the front or fire exit wanting me to open for her and let her out altogether. Coming in was not a problem either. She would enter with one of the tenants who would ring our door bell or knock upon passing our door. Of course when we open, only "Goemie" would be sitting on the doorstep thus making it appear as though she has done it herself. And at times she has even asked of our neighbours across the street to please come and buzz her in when waiting for someone from our block of flats took too long. If all else fails, she would just keep on yelling at the top of her voice until such time I hear her and fetch her in myself.

• "You're such a..."
• I suppose though we best remember her for the time she scolded Hubby for disgusting her. She was fast asleep on the chair in front of the computer and as Hubby only quickly wanted to sent some e-mail, he didn't bother to chase her away. Instead he sat on the edge and tried not to disturb her at all. Unfortunately he ate something earlier on that made him pass gas often and not thinking it would offend a cat, he did not think twice before farting loudly right there on the chair. Poor "Goemie" woke up in such a state of shock and when she came too a brink of a moment later, realizing what he has done right in her face, she jumped up, pulled her ears flat and as she looked at him with shear disgust, she miaauwed something at him that I guess I can only translate as being "@#$%^&*" or something along the line of "You're such a....." !

• Clever Culture:
• The Egyptians surely has been a clever culture all these years to have the cat as the representative or symbol of joy. I for one, has really enjoyed the pet cats in my life thus far. As for "Goemie" and "Spokie", I will not be surprised if I am greeted by a proud jaguar and fierce tigress as furry friends, when I get to heaven one day!