"RIVERSIDE BLUES"

by Rosemary Alger
CATS, Number 479, 24 May 1991

Typha Daring Egbert was the brother of my Burmese stud cat, Grand Champion Typha Dark Enigma, and was a neutered Burmese belonging to my neighbours. They waited a long time for him, as they had two elderly moggies and didn't think it fair to upset the tranquillity of their old cats with a young kitten.

I spent many hours trying to talk my neighbour into having two Burmese and then they would play together and not worry the geriatrics. However, she was adamant she only wanted one, 'so that she and the kitten could bond together' was how she put it. She felt that two Burmese would want each other and not her. Despite what I said I could not persuade her otherwise.

In the meantime she spent hours on my bungalow floor practising with kittens and planning for the great day when she would own one herself. Her passion was Blue boys and he was going to be called 'Blue' (she didn't like fancy names!).

Her two moggies eventually passed on and she booked 'Blue' who became the centre of her life. Every move was monitored, and every fad catered for. Sliced roast beef from the freezer compartment at the supermarket followed by peeled prawns from the same source were his staple diet, plus anything else she thought he might fancy, the more fattening the better. If I were honest, I would admit I was extremely envious, for he ate far better than I did. Well, of course, he became grossly overweight and desperately needed some form of exercise and a less fattening diet. However, if I dared mention it I was treated rather coldly and told that he would starve if she only fed him the amount I suggested: and he got plenty of exercise walking with her by the river. Hints were then usually made about my cats looking a bit thin, and did I feed them enough?! At this stage it was better that I shut up. I was obviously treading on dangerous ground!

Blue was now getting bored. There was no fun hunting for food because he had no room to eat it even if he did catch any, which was unlikely as he was so fat and slow, and the local cats found him dull - he never climbed trees or jumped on boats or anything - so they didn't want to know him. In theory he had all a cat should want in a doting owner and a limitless cordon bleu diet, but he had no-one to play with, so he just sat around and watched the river go by and got even fatter. However, being an intelligent cat I think he realised that something was missing in his life, so he decided that the time had come for 'owner awareness!'

His first attempt was a dead mouse in the living room. Perfectly unmarked, brought in through the cat flap, washed and played with in front of the fire while the family were watching TV. This was reasonably successful as his owner is petrified of mice and so he got centre stage, though not quite the way he intended. Instead of understanding his need for a friend, he was chastised and they blocked up the cat flap until they thought he had forgotten about mice. He was also downgraded to roast turkey!

His next effort was a large dead pigeon, again dragged through the flap and presented to the family during TV. That didn't go down too well either, as it had obviously been dead for some time and was crawling with maggots. The cat flap was again closed and prawns were rationed to half portions!

I think, at this stage, Blue realised that he would have to be a lot more dramatic in his attempts if he was going to get his message across. A dinner party that I was attending was in full swing when a commotion was heard in the direction of the cat flap and Blue's bulbous bottom appeared. He was obviously bringing in something very large and noisy through the flap. Much to everyone's amazement he was dragging a very alive and indignant Mallard duck by its neck.

Having squeezed the two of them through into the living room he raced across the room and disappeared with the duck under the dining room table. Ironically the meal on top of the table was also duck, but with slightly fewer feathers, and much less mobility. Directly Blue let go of the bird all hell let loose with duck and cat chasing about all over the room. the duck landed on the table and so did Blue, the meal landed on the floor and so did Blue! A fast-thinking guest opened the French doors and the live duck flew out of the opening, closely followed by Blue dragging the dead duck between his teeth!

Why he took the cooked duck we never knew - maybe in the confusion he thought he had the live one, or maybe it was one luxury food his owner had never got round to giving him and he felt deprived! Despite several brandies to placate them, I think that the other guests still felt cheated when they had a very late meal of sliced roast beef with the re-heated vegetables instead of the succulent duck that had been on the table earlier. I, however, was secretly delighted, for I guessed it must be Blue's sliced beef that we were eating - at last I had attained his high culinary levels!

I was even more delighted when his owner came round the next day for a tin of cat food - obviously we had cleared out the freezer. Blue was now down to the level of us mere mortals; perhaps there was a chance he might lose some much needed weight at last! Later on a very distressed owner again came round because he wouldn't eat all the tin and had I any tempting tit-bits for Blue in my larder. It had obviously escaped her memory that he had scoffed a cooked duck meant for six people the night before, and certainly wasn't going to starve to death before she could get to the supermarket to re-stock on beef! Seeing me eating some bread and cheese she then tried to wheedle the remains of my lunch for her 'Michelin' feline.

At this point I had to bite my tongue very hard to stop saying things I would regret later, but obviously something had to be done and, as she wasn't taking the hint from Blue, I was the one who would have to do it. I had a young Burmese litter who had just been vaccinated and, fortunately, there was a lovely blue boy there who hadn't yet been booked. I earmarked him as a suitable 'exerciser' for Blue and waited for an opportunity to get him into their household.

In the meantime, Blue was continuing with his duck theme. Two days later, a panic-stricken neighbour skidded into my kitchen. The garbled shriek was something to the effect that a feather storm had overtaken her house and Blue was in the centre of it! Dreadful noises were coming from under her bed and had I got a large brandy! While finding a glass, I grabbed the small blue kitten and unceremoniously plonked it on her lap, liberally filling the tumbler with 'Gin and It' at the same time (I hadn't got any brandy, we had drunk it all the week before at the duck dinner party!) and I departed to see what it was all about.

Blue had, somehow, managed to get two ducks into the bungalow, one furious male in the living room and a terrified female in the bedroom under the bed. Feathers were everywhere but, surprisingly neither duck appeared hurt. I think the male must have come in through the French doors to protect his female. I shooed the two ducks out and onto the river and then I went back into the bungalow and cleared up the mess. Blue went back to the river and was paddling in the bay, crying and trying to reach his 'friends' who were swimming just out of reach. He was obviously desperate for their company.

When I went back to my bungalow to report that all was well, the small blue kitten was wrapped up on my neighbour's ample bosom fast asleep. The gin had obviously helped as I was greeted with an empty glass and a large maternal smile, being told not to talk too loudly or I would wake him up! this was my opportunity, so I jumped in with both feet, I am ashamed to say that I may not have exactly told the truth, but at the time the cause seemed to justify a little white lie.

My very happy little kitten suddenly had 'social problems' with the rest of my household, and I suggested that perhaps a few days away from them might help. As I had done her a favour by sorting out the ducks, could she return it by looking after the kitten for me for a couple of days? It worked - and the small purring bundle departed tucked up in her jumper with a contented look on his face. He obviously knew that he was on to a good thing! As she went out of the door I casually called after her: 'By the way - his name is Grey'. I hoped that would be simple enough to be accepted! 'Typha Earl Grey' was his posh name, but I wasn't going to jeopardise his future by telling her that!

A year on and Blue is now slender and beautiful. He has very little time for idle chit-chat as he has a friend to protect, wash, play with and generally educate. Grey is beautiful and very smug. He lives in the world of sliced roast beef and prawns - but he isn't fat, he is too busy chasing up trees and playing by the river with his friend Blue. Ducks often swim past, but both cats are so happy together that they don't even see them. The funniest thing is my neighbour now gets really angry with people who will only have one cat. When Grey joined them she realised that she wasn't losing out after all, she had gained twice as much.