Miss Muffet was my family’s introduction to the cat world. I had grown up with cats, but had made a decision while the kids were little that I wouldn’t be tempted to own a cat….I had seen what behaviour some little children had inflicted on cats, and decided that my children would be a little older and more sensitive and sensible before they were introduced to cat ownership and care. Therefore, when Muffet arrived on my fence, miaowing pitifully, my kids were aged 10, 8, 6 and 3, and I thought, well maybe the cat will stand a chance…
This poor little kitten was about 3 months old, and pretty hungry. I thought she had probably been dumped when her previous owners realised she was a female. The then hubby announced he didn’t like cats and started muttering about her presence until I said I would check to see whether someone had lost her, and made it obvious that I wasn’t just going to take her in without making some attempt at being responsible about it, so he relented and accepted her as a part of the family, albeit with a bad grace. In fact later on, when he saw how the kids loved her, he admitted that when he was a child, he used to take their farm cat to bed….until his mother discovered what he was up to…. So rounds were made of the neighbours, and enquiries were made around the town, including checking all the “lost” notices, and we put our notice up at the vets notifying anyone who was interested that she had been found. But after a reasonable time had passed we realised no one was looking for her, and she was “our cat”.
I wasn’t prepared to let my children be completely responsible for her feeding and welfare…I knew them too well, but I encouraged them to help me feed her, and generally look after her, and most of the time they were willing. Wendy, at the tender age of three had to be “encouraged” to be gentle with her, and even as a kitten Muffet was very longsuffering with the kids and would put up with pretty well any treatment. She wouldn’t swipe the kids in self defence, let alone malice, so it was up to me, and to the kids’ dad, to instil in them a reasonable standard of behaviour to the cat. And most of the time they were good. We had the odd incident of dressing the cat in doll’s clothes, and the only reaction on the cat’s part was to have an “I Am Not Amused” expression on her face, and carting the cat off to their beds with them even though it was patently obvious she was quite comfortable where she was in the first place, and didn’t really want to go to bed….but on the whole no major dramas. Except for one time.
In those days, we had a canoe. It was the source of many hours of fun paddling down the various rivers and lakes in the vicinity, and in between, on really hot days, the kids would fill it up with water, and use it as a very strangely shaped swimming pool. However, this day, the boys decided they would teach the cat to swim. The cat of course already knew how to swim, but put up with the ordeal. The boys however were silly enough to do this while their dad was around. He had been in a different part of the yard, and when he came around the corner of the house and saw what was going on, his normal laid back behaviour changed instantly to a volcano in full flow. The kids of course suddenly become very concerned about drying the wet cat and emptying the canoe out, anything to avoid their punishment that they knew would come, and that they deserved. He roared at them: “I may not like the cat, but that’s no reason for you to be cruel to her!” They never forgot the lesson, and I dare say the cat didn’t either….
As I mentioned before Muffet was very gentle and long suffering with humans. The story was very different with other animals. Muffet was a mighty hunter, and from a kitten would stalk anything that moved. Soon after she arrived she was stalking magpies. Magpies are not fainthearted, and are very capable of looking after themselves. Consequently, she never attempted to actually catch one. Other birds and animals were not so lucky. She was death on legs to many sparrows and starlings and one day I managed to stop her devouring a bronze cuckoo. She had actually caught it, but it was unharmed. I was able to make her drop it, and it flew away with her leaping into the air, trying to get it back. She was NOT happy with me. She was often to be seen on the roof, checking out under the eaves, and the guttering, anywhere where a starling or a sparrow might have built a nest. One day she was out in the rafters of the garage, and a bird flew into the garage. Of course it was disorientated, and flew straight towards her. She just opened her mouth, and gulped….the bird was gone! I was horrified! At least the poor bird wouldn’t have known what happened…
She was also deadly on mice and rats, and would often bring home her trophies, and leave them on the doorstep for me. At one stage in her life, after she had grown a bit, hubby announced she shouldn’t be living inside and insisted she move out. I wasn’t happy about this, but accepted it for peace sake, and waited for a chance to get her back inside. In the meantime, the mice population, that now lived outside with the cat decided they would move to safer quarters…INSIDE! They felt much safer now, and had parties in my kitchen, whenever they felt like it! So now it was my turn to mutter…
Muffet found living outside wasn’t so good either. She had to cope with the local marauding tomcats, and she was a hunter, not a fighter. She came off second best with one of them, attempting to defend her property, back in the rafters of the garage. I heard this dreadful caterwauling, and rushed out to the garage just in time to see her fall from the rafters and land on our mower. She picked herself up, looking very ruffled, and had obviously hurt her shoulder. The other cat had the grace to leave quickly. It became obvious after a couple of days she wasn’t going to recover quickly, so the next time the vet was in town, I took her along. We were able to give her some anti inflammatory medication, which made her feel much better, but the vet said, she should sleep inside, that could turn to arthritis without proper care. So I had my excuse to get her back inside, which I promptly took. Muffet moved back inside, the mice moved back out, and everyone was happy…..except hubby.
He in the meantime maintained his attitude of I don’t like cats. However, if you happened to come out late at night, while he was watching tv, and the rest of us were in bed, you would see him sitting contentedly with the cat on his lap. Or you might find him in the yard playing with the cat who had climbed a branch, or was sitting on top of the tent (a semi-permanent addition to the yard). When asked about it he would do a lot of muttering and denying that that’s what we actually saw, so I decided the best thing to do was not say anything….
There were another lot of animals that she had to contend with. I had started looking after roos. Most of the time she just ignored them, and they pretty well left her alone too. But there was this one young wallaroo, whom I was babysitting for a couple of nights. On arrival, he got Muffet in a headlock. She was, obviously, not at all happy with this treatment. She considered herself by this stage the top animal in the house, and thought she warranted treatment according to her status in life…and this was just not on! She managed to get away from him, and withdrew to the heater, and turned her back. I went to bed and left them to it. In the morning however, Muffet was still in her place near the heater, and the wallaroo was treating her with a great deal more respect, and keeping his distance. Roos of all sorts love to lie down near the fire, but Muffet had managed (probably by devious means) to get across the message, that any lying down in front of the fire was only to be undertaken when she vacated her space….and then her space had to be returned instantly when she came back! He had learned this valuable lesson, sometime during the night, it seemed….
One time, before the arrival of the roos, and before the building of the roo/fox/dog proof fence, Muffet was chased up our huge gum tree by some local dogs. Of course they soon lost interest when they saw she wasn’t coming down in a hurry, and I didn’t worry too much….all cats can climb trees. However, when a cat is upset, and it’s really really windy (as it was that day), a cat finds it difficult to come back down, specially when the lowest branch is about 10 feet from the ground. The day was wearing on and she had descended the tree to the lowest branch, and was crying. She wanted to come down, but she didn’t know how. Of course with the lowest branch that high from the ground, it made tree climbing a tad difficult, even though I had a few kids who would have been willing. We spent a bit of time brain storming about what to do, and a suggestion was made we should ring the rescue squad. However, in came elder son who was by this stage about 15. He had acquired his father’s attitude of I don’t like cats, as he got older, but he summed up the problem quickly. He said I know what to do, and went across to the works depot across the road, and borrowed their huge ladder. He and his brother carried it home, and put it against the tree. He climbed up, grabbed the cat, and handed her down to me. I took the cat inside, and she was so freaked out, she went straight to bed in one of the kids beds, and didn’t emerge for about 24 hours. My sons took the ladder back, and elder son accepted my thanks, and just went on with life!
Time went on, the kids had all gone off to uni, and/or to find work. Muffet was getting old. She was getting thin, and loved nothing more than to lie down in the sun, or in front of the fire, get up and eat, and lie down again. She was happy with her lot in life, and by this time was 17. She was still interested in catching mice though….one evening she managed to catch one. I don’t really know how, because she had slowed down so much by this stage. It must have had a death wish I think. I found her with it under the dining room table….by this time she had hardly any teeth and was trying to gum the mouse to death. I took it away from her (it died pretty quickly after that, but with a little bit of dignity…). She just looked around, and curled up and went to sleep….probably thought she had had a lovely dream.. .And her life just continued on the downhill run until one day it was obvious she wasn’t well. She refused her food, even though I made sure it was things she loved, and only wanted to drink water, and sleep. So I made her up a bed in front of the fire, and waited to see if she improved. She didn’t, and hubby, he who didn’t like the cat, that night took himself off to bed in the spare room, with the cat, so he could look after her. The next morning she was worse, and he said, I really should put her down but I can’t. I was touched. I assured him I didn’t expect him to do that, and I would take her to the vet. If anyone had to do it, he would.
She had been pretty healthy all her life, and had limited experience with the vets apart from the annual visit for her injections and the odd accident, as heretofore mentioned. One time I had to take her because her eye was sore. The vet had a look, and she was so co-operative with him that she allowed him to look under her “third” eyelid without him having to anaesthetise her. This impressed the vet greatly, and he was always interested in how she was going. So when I took her to see the vet, he was really sorry to see her so ill. He tested her blood; he felt by what I said, and her symptoms, it was her kidneys. The tests indicated they had failed completely, and it was obvious there was no hope. I stayed with her and held her as we put her to sleep, neither of us wanted to prolong her suffering. Then I took her home, and hubby buried her with due honour in the back yard.
We all mourned her passing for a long time, but she left us so many happy memories. After a few months the kids had decided I’d mourned enough, and bought me another kitten…Felix….but there lies another story….
Mamaroo's Diary 