The story starts almost a year ago when we saw a stray cat out on the street. Not that this in itself is an unusual thing, Spain is full of them, but this particular moggy was prettier than the average stray and took to walking past our house on a daily basis, so much so that, perhaps mistakenly, we took to calling it “our cat”. One wet day last winter she even climbed in behind the “Rejas” to take shelter in the recess by a set of patio doors at the front of the house.
When we moved to Spain we had said that we did not intend to have a pet. Back in the UK we had owned a cat who lived to be eighteen years old and we saw the whole pet ownership thing as a bit of a restriction in our new home. Particularly since our regular trips back to the old country would mean having to rely on friends to feed and water animals on our behalf while we are away. One day in March we had been out and on our return found that “Our cat” had managed to get into our enclosed patio at the back of the house but was unable to scale the wall to get back out again. She did stay clear of me but didn’t show any signs of aggression so I put out a bowl of water and left a garden chair at the base of the wall to give her a boost, the following morning she was gone.
Toward the end of March we had returned to the UK for a family wedding and when we got back we found “Our cat” once again ensconced on the patio, we had been away for a week and so had no idea how long she had been there. Once I had sat down and presented less of a threat to her, she was quite happy to come over to me and allow me to stroke her. At this point I realised she was not only quite a young cat and had obviously been a pet at some time, but was also heavily pregnant. Now, I am not what you would call a Pet lover. I do like animals and would never do anything to hurt them, but the idea of providing for the every need of another creature for its’ entire life is not a responsibility I take lightly.
Nonetheless I was not happy at putting the cat back out on the streets to give birth under a dumpster and my wife agreed. So I sorted out a box which I lined with newspaper and old towels and installed it in a safe, undercover place on the patio - because I didn’t want a strange cat in the house - and she climbed in, had a sniff around and adopted her new home with tacit approval. Meanwhile I went off to the shops for a litter tray, dishes, cat litter and food, leaving my pockets several Euros lighter and once again producing a note of approval. A couple of days later “Missy” as she had come to be called produced a litter of four healthy kittens.
Right from the beginning she was happy for us to handle the babies and once she had weaned them looked on as we fed them small pieces of chicken. She even took to coming in the house and encouraged the kittens to do the same as they grew. I became a little concerned that they might get shut inside so it was off to the shops again for a cat flap which I spent a couple of hours installing in the back door and a couple more teaching them how to use, the back room by the patio can be shut off so we knew they couldn’t get any further into the house. All was going well in this newly feline household and we set about trying to find homes for the kittens. We had decided to keep one which my wife had taken to almost as soon as it was born, but we knew that five cats would be too much for us to deal with, long term. In the meantime we began teaching them behaviour which we found acceptable, litter training obviously. But also things like not getting up on tables and kitchen worktops, or climbing on plant pots and especially not destroying the plants which they contained. Sharpening claws on the furniture was strongly discouraged and although Missy proved harder to train we did feel we were making progress. We had agreed to look after our friends’ dog for a week while they went away and didn’t anticipate any particular problems, the dog is used to cats and the kittens would only be curious once they got over their initial fear. The one thing we hadn’t anticipated was the reaction from Missy. Hissing, spitting and puffing out her fur, she eventually retired to the upper terrace and glared down on the poor dog which clearly had no clue what the problem was. The following morning Missy had gone, taking one of the kittens with her. Somehow she had scaled the wall and we haven’t seen her since. We can only hope she found her way back to her original home or has been taken in by another kindly person rather than being rounded up in one of the official purges on strays.
Although there is no doubt that three kittens are a huge amount of fun, curious about practically everything, playing and spending the evening cuddled up like babies with us, we redoubled our efforts to find homes for the two we wanted to go. I took out adverts in local papers, put messages on Ex-pat forums and told everyone we knew, but so far without success. We have had a couple of enquiries though. A Spanish family who wanted both kittens but when they came round to look the kids were too excited to sit down quietly for a few minutes so the cats wouldn’t come out of hiding and the parents decided they were not suitable if they were too shy. Another lady phoned to say she would have them when she came back from a trip to England, but never called back and we had a couple of calls from people who decided it was too far to travel to come along and see them. Realising that we were likely to be looking after them for a while we decided to give them at least temporary names. “Minnie” (the moaner!) is possibly the most aloof even though she is the most vocal, she will climb on the lap, get as much stroking as she wants then get back off again. “Twinny” was named because her markings are exactly the same as the kitten which the mother took, she loves to be cuddled and will roll over into the crook of the arm like a baby while you stroke her tummy until she goes to sleep and these are the two we are trying to re-home. “Binny” is so called because every time she hears the pedal bin open she is there, trying to get her head in, she follows a broom or a mop through every move and will quite happily sleep all evening on the lap.
Once they were six months old they had to be Spayed which can be an expensive necessity here in Spain. We were lucky in that we found an animal charity which could do all three for the same price as the local vet wanted for one, which means we can still offer them free to good homes of course. It was quite funny when we got back from the operation and let them out of their travel boxes, still disorientated from the anesthetic and with the legs obviously not doing what they thought they would. It was like watching cats after their first heavy drinking session! Despite all of their attempts to remove the stitches themselves they made a swift recovery and were practically back to normal within a few days. It never ceases to amaze me just how resilient animals are, an operation like that would lay most people low for weeks, yet they just take it in their stride and carry on. Meanwhile attempts at training continue and the kittens often follow us wherever we go. If we do manage to find homes for them now we will certainly miss the antics of the two which do go to new owners even though we do find looking after three to be a bit of a stretch.
Unfortunately many Spanish people do not have their pets spayed or neutered so there is always a glut of animals. Perhaps because British people in general are so soft when it comes to pets there are plenty who have several already. Ever the optimist though I feel sure that there must be a home for two loving, partially trained, spayed kittens in southern Spain, we just need to find it.
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The story starts almost a year ago when we saw a stray cat out on the street. Not that this in itself is an unusual thing, Spain is full of them, but this particular moggy was prettier than the average stray and took to walking past our house on a daily basis, so much so that, perhaps mistakenly, we took to calling it “our cat”. One wet day last winter she even climbed in behind the “Rejas” to take shelter in the recess by a set of patio doors at the front of the house.