Puddles was my daughter’s cat. At this stage my daughter was studying art in Sydney, and living with a couple of friends in a suburb of Sydney. Her house mates decided she needed a kitten for a birthday present, so they went to Paddy’s Market to get it. Paddy’s Market is a huge noisy place, where you can get many many bargains, but I would imagine very scary for kittens and puppies. Anyway they brought this poor little tabby kitten home, and it soon became obvious she was a bit…..shall we say…..neurotic. She was often to be found up the top of door ways. No one ever saw how she did it. She was also the type to climb the curtains if she was upset about anything.
After a while, my daughter came home, and of course the cat came with her. Puddles wasn’t impressed with the cat that was already here, Muffet, and Muffet wasn’t too keen on her either, but after a while they sorted things out, and while things were never amicable, they tolerated each other. I tried hard to be kind to Puddles, but she was never a friendly cat. She could not ABIDE being picked up, and any friendly overture was returned with a spit and/or a swipe from a paw with claws unsheathed. She hated the dogs, she hated just about everyone except my daughter, and even that wasn’t a demonstrative relationship. If there was any affection given or shown, it was on Puddles’ terms.
One night I made the mistake of walking down the hall without turning the light on first. I didn’t realise Puddles had decided to sit down on the floor right in the middle of the hall, and of course I trod on her tail. There was this unearthly shriek, and I felt as though I had been slashed by razors, as she swiped my leg with her front paw, all claws extended! There was another shriek, this time me, and Puddles took off into my daughter’s bedroom to hide. I of course cursed her, her ancestors, and any other assorted relatives she may have had, and came back out into the light to inspect my injuries, where the kids that were home came and checked them out as well, and between us we decided I would live.
I wasn’t the only one to feel the full force of her claws. One day Jessie and Albert, the dogs we had at the time, decided it would be a good idea to chase her round the house a bit. Puddles detoured up the hall, and came to a dead end at the front door, which was closed. So she changed from victim to a hunter….she turned round, faced the dogs, ears back and eyes blazing…and I’m not sure how she managed this bit, but some how seemed to walk on her back legs, with her front legs with all her claws out, slashing through the air like scythes. Jess and Albert realised she meant business and fell over each other in their attempts to escape her! Poor Jess wasn’t fast enough and there was a yelp, as the claws made contact with her nose. They never chased her again after that….
However, they did some chasing on her behalf. Despite her bad temper, she wasn’t a brave cat, and when the local stray tomcat used to come onto the front verandah and harrass her, all she wanted to do was to come inside, and if the front door was closed, they would both sit outside, howling, with her cowering as close to the door as she could get, until I would come and let her in. Of course I got pretty sick of the “music” before too long, and decided “steps needed to be taken” to get this marauding visitor to cease and desist. So one day, after I had let Puddles in, the tomcat was sitting on the verandah looking quite at home, and I called the dogs to the door. I would not normally encourage dogs to chase cats, but today I thought it was warranted. So I threw open the door and let the dogs out. Well! The cat took off, with them in hot pursuit. It ran across the road, and under the gate to the Council Work Yard. The dogs were only inches away from it, and of course they couldn’t get under the gate; they were both retrievers, and large dogs. The cat kept on running, and I saw it scale the fence on the other side of the yard, and it looked like it would keep running for a while yet. The dogs of course were most disappointed that their quarry had eluded them, but I called them home, and told them what good dogs they were. They looked rather puzzled…..but the cat never returned….
Another time I had to take her to the vets. It was just a routine trip, but she did not under any circumstances want to get in the cat basket. To start with I had to lift her up, and this was a nono in her book. As I tried to lower her into the basket, she put all four feet out sideways, and propped herself. Each time I “undid” a paw, she would be hanging on with the other three. Eventually I managed it, it seemed to take forever, and when we got to see the vet, I suggested he examine her in the basket, after explaining the problems we had getting in her in the first place.
After Muffet died, at a ripe old age, the kids went out and got me Felix. Puddles was not at all happy with this turn of events, and didn’t want to eat her food anywhere near him….he might look at it! So we got round that by feeding her on an old table in the back room. She was up away from him, and at that stage he was too little to attempt to get up there. She had her own little placemat, and her water dish and food bowl were kept up there, and she would jump up there to be fed. However, one day she misjudged. She jumped up and landed in the water bowl, which of course spilled. She tried hard to jump straight back down again, but the water on the placemat made her skid. She looked like one of those cartoon cats with revolving legs as she tried hard to obtain traction. Eventually she succeeded and shot down to the floor and took off and hid.
While Felix was still a kitten, Puddles suddenly became very ill. She went off her food, and lost a lot of weight, in a matter of days. Once I realised it wasn’t just some simple thing that she would recover from quickly, I took her to the vet. She was feeling so bad she didn’t even fight me when I put her in the cat basket. The vet examined her, and announced she had cancer. He said she wouldn’t have long, but he said with a bit of treatment she would have quality of life for a short time. So I took her home, and rang my daughter, who had by this time left home again. She managed to come home that weekend to say goodbye. Puddles in the meantime rallied with the treatment, but took herself into my bedroom to live. There was a chair next to my bed, and that became hers. Or she would get onto my bed once I had got up. She only came out for visits to the loo, or for meals. All night she would stay there, next to me, and she would at last allow me to stroke her…….but picking her up was still stretching the friendship. She stayed there, till the end came, which mercifully was quick.
I could never say that life with Puddles was boring…..
Mamaroo's Diary 