Nemesis

You will all know how truly childish I am, when I tell you of the jigs I danced this weekend, the weekend of the Golf Tournament. 

The weather here in paradise has been appalling:  dust storms with low visibility, high winds, cool temperatures.  Yeah!!  They had to cancel play on Friday because of the conditions and although they have persevered, it has Not been a success.  (If you haven't been following the saga, I am pleased in my childish-tantrum way because it was the tournament that prompted the poisoning of our neighbourhood cats.)  Nemesis?  Karma?  Just deserts?  Who knows, but at least, so far, money can't buy fine weather too.

The population of cats has stabilised for the last three days, so we are hoping this means all the poison has been consumed, or the baits have lost their appeal/efficacy.

The survivors are Black Tom, Seams (the mother of them all), Helmet, Smudge and Scout.  In addition, this morning we released LG from protective custody, so she is back on the doorstep, free to come and go as she pleases.  She was looking a little confused when we let her go - not sure if she really wanted freedom, or perhaps wondering where all her friends were:

You can see that her fur has grown back following her spaying last December:

The ginger kitten 'Tiny Tim' is still in protective custody but will be released later today or tomorrow, as my friend R seemed to think that LG and Tiny Tim shouldn't be released together.  R is about to move internationally, otherwise I reckon she would have adopted TT herself.

We are continuing with our strategy of feeding the cats as much as possible in the hopes they won't be tempted by any further poison or baits.  Sadly, we have not been able to get the golf course groundskeepers to remove the little carcasses.

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Guilt, etc

Last weekend we went grocery shopping and bought ourselves a new fridge, as you do.  We've lived with rubbish appliances for over four years here and finally gave up. 

The compound was originally conceived for the other multi-national, most of whose employees come from a land of huge white household appliances with bizarre current/voltage arrangements.  To make these folk feel at home, special circuits were installed so that we could enjoy native-to-them washing machines and dryers - ones that could easily accommodate a small elephant, should one be visiting.  The top-loading washing machine uses GALLONS of water, no matter how low one sets the water level, and having a central agitator, is great at shredding clothes and said elephant.  I have always wanted to replace these monsters with a tidy front-loader that would spin out enough of the water that I could also dispense with the gargantuan dryer.  I don't ever use the dryer as it is dry enough in the house for most articles to be bone stiff dry within 24 hours when hung on a clothes horse.  That replacement is my next project.

Along with this foreignness, the appliances selected are the most basic and unsophisticated I have ever seen.  They are cutting edge design from an era before even I was born.

The fridge was not frost free.  It had a cunning arrangement with a fan at the back of the freezer that filled with chunks of ice.  Then it would groan and growl and stop working.  We were on to our third fridge (in four years!) and frankly, I had enough.

We decided we would buy a small overflow fridge, to put the extra contraband (ie p*rk) in it, from our shopping excursions overseas.  We'd looked at a few in the shops and Marius did his research, pronouncing the model we would purchase.  Which is why it only took as a few moments to select a completely different one, with side-by-side doors, and a brilliant, non-space wasting interior.

We have pushed the old dinosaur into the back utility room, where it compromises every other use of the space and continues to grumble.  The kitchen itself is now quiet, filled only with a gentle hum.

When we moved in, we asked if we could have the appliances removed and we would replace them ourselves (own account in expat-speak) but we were told we would have to store them in the house and we would be responsible for them (so we couldn't leave them outside) which is why we persevered for so long.  I have a plan though ...

Marius has signed a contract and has had his new position and promotion approved by all the Boards and Masters, so now it is official that we will stay (groan) here in Exile for another three years.  We are hoping to move to a different villa in the middle of the year - which will be bigger (necessary for two adults, three cats and very occasional visits from offspring, I know), have its own small  pool so that I will be safe to do my hydrotherapy without risk of being jumped on by uncontrolled children, and thankfully removed from the insane common-wall noise of our neighbours.

When the blessed day arrives and we shift abode (about 400 metres I reckon) I will stand high up on my pedestal and demand the removal of the offending appliances and quietly replace them with decent, 21st century ones.

I have done something irresponsible and possibly foolish this morning:  I bowed to Wolfe's incessant demands to go out, after being incarcerated since Sunday.  As soon as I released her I abused myself:  no, you fool, on your head be it, and so on.  She was out for ooh, twenty minutes (yes, long enough to cross the fence and poison herself, I know) and is now back inside.  I told her not to eat anything while she was out and to come back quickly.  I pray she has not made herself ill.

Macc also took advantage of the open garden door and is still out patrolling his estate - but he is in no danger of poisoning I believe, because he has never climbed out and is too fat and unco-ordinated to start now.

Two of Seams' May kittens seem to have survived the slaughter - so far - and one of hers from the November -ish litter.  Black Tom was still well last night although I haven't seen or heard him this morning.  On Sunday I managed to catch LG and put her in a cat carrier (all by myself!  such strength and dexterity!) and later that evening we caught the little ginger cat 'Tiny Tim' as well.  They are both at my friend's house in protective custody.  Tim was very sick on Monday and we were ready to take him to the Vet to be put down, but he has recovered.  He must have only had a little poison.

The last of LG's kittens was on my doorstep on Monday morning, huddled up and ill; she has since died and is lying on the golf course side of the fence. There are little bodies everywhere but we can't get to them to bury them or remove them because of the wall and fence.

We have tried to find out what poison was used and how long it will persist, to no avail.  As we have virtually no rain here, it isn't going to be washed away, is it?  When will it be safe to let Wolfe out and to release LG?  My friend R is trying to re-house Tiny Tim.  He has a reasonable chance as he is still young and cute, whereas LG is a street cat and although she is very sweet and I adore her, most people would not think she is pretty - and that seems to be the deciding factor for finding a home here.

'Tiny Tim', in November 2011

One of Seams' May kittens, 'Helmet' has survived so far,
but his cute, beret-wearing sister succumbed to the poison

We are trying to give the surviving cats heaps of food in the hope that they won't be interested in the baits.  Their lives are in the laps of the gods.

And still no signs of Ratty ....


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I am heartsick

Our neighbour, the golf club, is having a big tournament this weekend.

I suppose peacocks and feral cats are untidy.

A week or so ago, we had 16 feral cats, well-fed and loved.  So far, LG has survived.  My friend R, who gave her succour during her post-op recovery, is going to try to catch her and keep her at home in protective custody.

Last night there were 4 cats.

Two more bodies were found this morning.

There are almost no peacocks.

It seems poison has been laid to 'tidy up' the wildlife problem.

All of LG's kittens, including the ones in the photo from a week or so ago, have disappeared, presumed poisoned.

Macc and Ming do not go out of the garden so they should be safe and I will be keeping Wolfe indoors for the rest of the week, because she does go for strolls and loves to eat.

I am heartsick.

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10 Days Long

I've stopped leaping up at every unidentified voice now.  I oscillate between acceptance and hope.  Eventually I will possibly stop hoping and resign myself to acceptance, but so far, I keep hoping (pace Seneca).

Ratty was last seen, full of beans and energy, the morning before we returned to Exile.  My domestic assistant gave him and the other cats their breakfasts and then let them all out into the garden for an airing.  Apparently Ratty climbed a tree and skedaddled over the wall.  Indrani tells me that while we were away, he took off on adventures twice before, once for two days, but he always came home.

When I am feeling optimistic, I think Ratty is out on an extended bachelor jaunt, like he used to have before his accident in early October.  When I am feeling realistic? pessimistic?  I think he must have had a final 'neurological meltdown' and has gone off to die by himself, as cats do.  I worry that he may have been hit by a truck out on the big road, or he ate poison on the golf course, or he got swept up in a 'trap, neuter, return (somewhere else)' program. 

I've spoken to all the other cats on the street, including LG (his little sister) and none of them have told me news of Ratty.  I've looked in unoccupied gardens and through the fence, and I still call him from our garden.  I've spoken to the maids I see out walking their employers' dogs, and I listen to all the voices of the peacocks and children, hoping to hear Ratty.

If I find his body, then that is that.  I'll know he has gone.  And yes, I expect I will stop hoping to see him on my doorstep, but not yet.  I miss him.

LG is well and her fur has grown back.  Strangely enough, she is still feeding her kittens in a haphazard way, although they are nearly as big as she is.  They are devastatingly cute:

Soon it will be time to try to organise for more neutering and spaying as we have an abundance of gorgeous young cats on the compound.  They are flourishing because people feed them, which means they are healthy and will soon start breeding too.  In fact Seams' May brood are already big enough to be multiplying.

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More Adventures in Cat-land

Don't wring your hands in anxiety - the cats are all well and flourishing.

Little Guy (LG) is growing fuzz where she was shaved for her operation.  Her wound is healed and she is her normal bouncy self.  She continues to neglect her kittens and cast herself at the tomcats.  She is of no interest to them (thankfully!) which is good for her long-term health, even if she is suffering from short-term confusion and rejection. 

LG and Ratty are back hanging out together on the doorstep, still the best of pals.  Ratty has not recovered his former strength - he can't leap up onto walls, only onto comfy chairs and laps.

I have been in hospital this past week having infusions every morning and coming home about 10 o'clock, which has rather upset Ratty's routine.  On Sunday (first day of the week here) when I came home Ratty was sitting on the doorstep with LG.  This was the first time he has climbed out of the garden since his second illness.  He was happy to see me and skipped inside.  On Wednesday I came in, noted Ratty sitting under the table and almost immediately went out again to visit a friend on the compound.  When I got home an hour or two later, Ratty was no where to be seen.  It was a lovely day so I thought perhaps he was in the garden with the other cats, and I was very tired.  I lay down on the couch thinking Ratty will come and join me, as he always does, and promptly fell asleep. (Please note I get up at 4 40 am to get to the hospital for 6 am, and the treatment is exhausting so I am allowed to have a sleep.  In fact I need to have a sleep every day.) 

My conscience woke me up.  No Ratty.  I forced myself up and had a look in the garden for him.  No Ratty.  I knew he would not be upstairs if I was downstairs, which meant he was probably out on the compound somewhere, and possibly in trouble.  I went for a walk along the golf course road.  There was no one around to hear me call 'Ratty', feeling slightly foolish.  There were lots of peacocks about but no cats. 

Then I heard a voice, and saw one of Seams's May kittens, who came out of the trees to ask for a handout, but I didn't think it was his (probably a male) voice I'd heard.  A few metres further on was Ratty, sitting up and maowing.  I called again and he came running towards me, maowing furiously.  But, he couldn't get to me, and I could see why he hadn't come home:  at that point, the surface of the golf course is about one and a half metres below the surface of our road - so he was facing a two metre high concrete wall.  What to do?

I knew that about 300 metres back towards the club house, the ground rises and at one point, the golf course is actually slightly above the top of the retaining wall.  Could I convince him to follow me along the road back to where he could hop out?

First there was the the group of peacocks and hens to negotiate - pretty scary for a cat of any condition, doubly so for one who is not perfectly fit.  Then there was the Seams-kitten who wanted to keep Ratty off his 'patch'.  Ratty is not the brightest cat in the firmament but he is loyal and deeply, madly, truly in love with me.  He followed me.  I called, he maowed, we'd progress five or ten metres and then he'd stop to have a rest. He tried a few times to jump up onto the wall and crashed back to the sand. Finally I reached the part where the golf course was above the wall, only Ratty was not with me. I called and he answered - he'd managed to jump up and was down on the road behind me, waiting.

We trotted home together, Ratty chatting and me relieved.  He came in and had an enormous bowl of crunchies and then we retired to the sofa, together:

We were quite done in by our excitement.

But very happy the adventure had a happy outcome:

He has not ventured back to the golf course to my knowledge - or if he has, he's remembered where he can get out.  He does like climbing out of the garden and hanging with LG on the front step, and always likes scooting back inside when I open the door for him.  Mind you, he never goes out if I am at home so I suspect some of his motivation for going AWOL is that he is looking for me.  He's at my feet now.

Miss Ming and Mr Macc are continuing with their toffee-nosed approach to the interlopers.  I have caught them ganging up together on Miss Wolfe, which is a bit mean, although she does ask for it.  The other day Wolfe pounced on Ming as she left the kitchen, a sneaky, surprise attack.  Wolfe is a smart cat though, and when I shouted at her, she immediately left Ming alone and ran away to hide.  I could really do without cat-dramas at 5 am.  Really.

Macc and Ming remind me of disapproving parents - I think it is me as much as the interlopers that they are disappointed in:

what have you brought home?

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LG

LG spent a few days at my friend's spa recuperating from her operation.  We had planned to keep her in protective custody until after her follow-up visit to the Vet on Wednesday afternoon.  However, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, she had been feeding her kittens - and by last night her mammaries were full of milk.

This morning, protesting even more than during her first inelegant plunge into the cat carrier, R and I brought her home.  We took her, in the carrier, to the wall of the golf course.  Her kittens were down in the sand, waiting for me to feed them.  At the sight of us, or the smell of their mother, they began to meow loudly.  LG was frantic to get out of the carrier to them.  We could barely unzip the front before she scrabbled her way free.

There was a touching reunion:

where kittens got milk and LG relief.  She washed them and kissed them, making a happy family.  R and I were also relieved and pleased, as we worried that she would spurn them, leaving them exposed and vulnerable to peacocks and wild cats. We were also relieved that the kittens survived without her for the 48 hours she was 'busy'.

It wasn't long before LG's attention wandered ...

and then  LG had had enough of the whole motherhood sentimental business.  She shrugged off the remaining kittens and climbed a tree to sharpen her (trimmed under anaesthetic) claws.  The kittens came back and finished the crunchies I had scattered for them.

We wondered if LG would ever trust us again.  She'd cast some pretty severe looks our way before she sauntered off into the trees.  (My friend R thought this might be because LG had hoped she'd no longer be out on the street and had passed some bizarre initiation rite.)

Less than two hours later I went out to buy some bread - and look who was on the doorstep, showing off her clipped ear:

The clipped ear tells any would-be cat catchers that she has been sterilised and can be left alone (we hope).  She has a significant shaved patch which will be chilly (it is quite cool for Exile-land presently), perhaps it will encourage her to snuggle up to her babies at night?

I am pleased it has all worked out so smoothly without any major dramas and that we are all still friends.  And I am grateful that my friend R was able to provide lifting and taxi services, along with the all-important recuperation suite.

Ratty is doing well although he is still a little gamy in the hind legs.  He more than makes up for any physical shortcomings by his devotion.

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Ratty & LG

I've written before about the lovely and unique relationship demonstrated between two street cats - Ratty and LG - who I've known and fed, cared for and loved, for about 15 months.

They are litter-mates and are always together.  Even when LG is seeing suitors, she makes time for Ratty. 

We've had more rain lately and it has been unseasonably cold.  This last week while Ratty has been ill,  LG has been camping on the doorstep, waiting for him to come out (or better still) for her chance to come in.  This morning she had her chance. 

LG - Marius refers to her as 'Not the Mother of the Year' - is famous for neglecting her kittens; when she is with them she ignores them (I know how she feels) and she seems to spend most of her time hanging around our house. When we give her food, she is reluctant to share (normal) and resistant to feeding them (not normal).  Her current litter has three surviving kittens, all desperately cute bundles of fuzz.  They must be three or four months old and able to fend for themselves outof necessity, although I think LG  was still feeding them in a haphazard fashion. 

LG is in  season again. At least she has been waving her bum under the nose of Black Tom in a fairly provocative way, so I presume if she isn't yet in season, she will be very soon.  She is tiny, always looks underfed and quite simply, another pregnancy would not do her any good.   At last count we had about 15 strays on the compound.  We do not need more kittens, please.  So, I arranged with a friend to help me catch LG and today we took her to the vet to have her spaying operation. 

I put one of Ratty's old bed pads (unsoiled of course, but deliciously Ratty-scented) in one of our cat carriers.  We let LG come in to the house with us where my friend R scooped her up and plunged her, struggling, into the waiting carrier.  She screamed and swore and threw herself around in the confined space.  Then Ratty strolled up and sat  next to her and spoke softly in cat-ese to her and she calmed down immediately.

R and I had a cup of tea and a quick piece of toast - it was 7 am - and then we took LG out to the car and drove the 40 minutes to the Vet.  She meowed once, softly, on the way.  Perhaps the Ratty scent made her feel more secure?  She is in the animal hospital now, coming out of her anaesthetic and we will trek over to pick her up in an hour or so.  My friend R has agreed to let LG stay with her in a spare room, for a day or two while her incision heals, and then she will be out on the street or my doorstep, once more.

As for Ratty, he is convalescing.  He can walk and run, wash himself, eat and do all the cat things except leap up onto a chair, and his purr has also returned.  He is curled up at my feet as I'm writing this.  We hope he will not have another neurological meltdown.  We hope the HDU is closed permanently, but we can't say, and neither can the Vet, whether he will have a further episode.

In January, another neighbour will help R take some more of the kittens to the government veterinary hospital where they have a free program of trap-neuter-return.  I was concerned if we waited until January LG would have become pregnant, and as that would make the spaying operation much more complex, I am afraid the government would simply euthanise her, rather than spay her.  Hence her trip today (for a fee!).  We don't know where the government vet is and we are relying on this other lady to direct us there, but she doesn't want to transport cats etc, until after she returns from her holidays. 

At least something is being done to help the strays.  Lots of people (well, half a dozen) are keen to feed the cute little kitties, which is lovely, but I believe there is a further responsibility to get them sterile if you want to feed them - helping them tomorrow as well as today. 

Marius is not impressed with me.  He says 'You can't save the world'  and 'Where is this going to stop?', both reasonable reactions I suppose.  When I sent him a message this morning telling him how smooth the catching and transporting adventure had been, he was very pleased.  See, he tries to be gruff and uncaring and sensible, but he is as much of a softie as I am.

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Déjà Cat?

I think we have been here before:

Ratty this morning

Ratty went to visit Dr Rhett last night.  He had a thorough going over, a blood test and his temperature taken.  The Vet thinks his 'head injury' has somehow recurred - or rather the effects of it.  Maybe scar tissue, maybe a small bleed.  Maybe, maybe.  An MRI might answer some questions but that is not available (or choke, choke, financially sensible if it was available).  Dr Rhett thinks a biological or metabolic cause is unlikely.  Having a diagnosis would only be valuable if it could help us look after Ratty better or force us to make an informed decision about his future.  We've ruled out diabetes and ruled in 'something neurological' for what it's worth.  The Vet's given him some anti-inflammatory syrup to help with inter-cranial swelling.

Dr Rhett said he was optimistic, given Ratty's recovery previously and given continued devoted care.  No guarantees, of course.

So we've brought him home for more TLCC (tender loving cat care) and hope.

Ratty can hold his head up (which he couldn't last time) and when he's taken to the litter box he uses it, which suggests he has control over his bowel and bladder, both encouraging signs.  However his eyesight is 'variable' at best and once again, he has no motor control of his paws.  He's also not licking around his mouth or doing any other grooming.

He can feed himself cat-crunchies - the brand he has always preferred - but refuses to drink.  This means I have to syringe water into his mouth regularly and try to get him to swallow.  I've also got some more tins of 'recovery' diet which I can mix with additional water and also syringe into his mouth.  He accepts that more willingly than the straight water.

I worry about hydration.  Last night Dr Rhett told me cats need about 2ml/kg/hour, which works out to about 240 ml per day for Ratty.  This is quite a bit to syringe in, 2 ml at a time ...  when he is not enjoying the experience and spitting half of it out.

Now I feel I am caught on the horns of a moral dilemma, twisted up with my own stubborness and sentimentality.  There is no confidence that if Ratty recovers again, he will not have a further 'turn' in the next weeks or months.  Clearly our dream of letting him return to his former swaggering street-cat status is dashed.  That is fine, we've made a home for him and he has his place here.  But how many more episodes of neurological meltdown does he need to endure?  Can I keep up the 24 hour care he needs?  Am I, in some bizarre way, putting my needs ahead of his?

He is not in any discernible pain.  He is responsive.  He loves having a snooze on my lap - that always seems to calm him so he can sleep.  He is dry, safe, comfortable, fed.


It is a beautiful clear day and quite cool for the time of year (16).  This morning LG had her breakfast alone in the sunshine.

I loved seeing Ratty out and about, having picnics with LG and washing her face.  On Monday morning I sat with them while they ate together and watched.  Ratty gobbled for  a bit while LG (his little sister) steadily munched.  Then Ratty stopped, sat himself up and watched her eat.  When she had finally had enough - she signalled this by backing away from the remaining crunchies and washing her face - Ratty tucked in and finished the rest. 

Lately they were waiting together for us in the morning when we set off for Marius's bus.  When I got back from my walk, they would have 'seconds' and Ratty would come inside with me while LG went off to neglect her kittens some more.  In the afternoon LG would sit on the door step and wait for Ratty to come out and then they would entwine their tails (really!) rub heads and weave themselves around to the empty carport next door (we have stopped feeding anybody outside our house, it was causing too many problems) for tea.

I think their relationship is unusal for street cats (or any other litter-mates).  Precious.  No doubt I am anthropomorphising again, wanting to preserve it for them.

* * *

I saw this chap looking for handouts:

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Ratty Triumphant

Remember Ratty, half dead?

He's doing very well thank you.

Yesterday, we were sitting in the garden, listening to the fountain, sipping wine in celebration of Thursday.  Ratty's ambulance driver was visiting.  She was suitably impressed with the transformation in his health.  He tried to show off by jumping on the windowsill and missed.  His hind legs have not yet regained their strength, although he can walk and run pretty convincingly.

Marius and I agreed that if he couldn't jump he couldn't survive on the street.  Hmmmmmm

This morning, his little sister LG was on the front path.  Marius was out for his swim, and Ratty was in the kitchen with me.  I said to Ratty 'Why don't you go out the front for a minute and say hello to LG, so at least she knows you are still alive and well?'  I opened the front door and called to Ratty.  LG came bounding up the steps mewing and very keen to come inside.  Ratty inched his way to the door and put his nose around it.  I was trying to encourage him to say hello at the same time as trying to prevent LG from coming in.  (Strangely I suspect my marriage wouldn't be a very happy place if LG came in to make herself at home.) 

Ratty and LG touched noses and gave each other little kisses and then Ratty washed her ear for her, as he has always done.  I closed the door and came outside with them to have a little visit.  All was going well until Black Tom (LG's boyfriend) came around the corner and Ratty took off at high speed towards the wilderness of the golf course.

You can imagine how I felt - a simple act of kindness was teetering into disaster. I went after Ratty but could see no sign of him.  I met Marius walking back from the pool and told him my tale of woe and shame.  He said 'Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be back.  At least we know he can run.'

I went back into our garden to bring in Ratty's food bowl, feeling remorseful and kicking myself (I'm very good at that).  Then I went out again to move the sprinkler.  It would have been less than 10 minutes since I'd last seen him.

Yeowls.  Remember Ratty's siren?  He was calling me - but from where?  

Here:

The garden wall is more than 2 metres high.  How did the boy who can't jump get up there?  I guess he can climb and found a handy tree or bush to use as a ladder. 

He didn't seem too sure about how to get down again and resisted Marius attempts to encourage him.  We went inside to cook breakfast, Marius telling me 'He'll be fine, he'll get down.'

Two minutes later, I heard 'maaoooow' in the hall - and there he was.

He might not be able to jump but he does seem able to cope with the outside world.  Except, of course, he much prefers the inside world.

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