Cats in a flap – An Irishman’s Diary about incompatible pets

Our young cat, Pete Briquette, has been trying out one of the other houses on our road lately. I don't know if he's planning a permanent move, or what.

But on several occasions in the past month, we’ve found him sitting statuesquely in a neighbour’s front window, looking out at us without a flicker of recognition, as if we’ve never met before.

And much as it pains me to say so, the house looks well on him. It’s less cluttered than ours, with a minimalist decor that accessorises his black coat beautifully, making him appear somehow better-bred than he is.

So far, however, he continues to come home at night. And so far, I have forgiven his infidelity.

Of course I grumble a bit first.

“Oh you remembered where you live, did you?” I’ll ask sarcastically, when he saunters in.

“Or maybe you’re just here to collect your things?”

Then I’ll feed him again anyway, pending his possibly imminent defection. And as I do, I’ll amuse myself by assuaging the guilt I like to imagine him experiencing.

"Don't be feeling bad about the fact that I rescued you as an abandoned week-old kitten on a bog road in Tipperary, " I'll tell him on these occasions.

“Or that time you got stuck on top of our 15ft back wall in the middle of the night, and I had to risk my own neck to get you down, and you panicked when I made a grab for you, slipping from my grasp but hanging onto my earlobe by a claw, so that for several painful seconds I was wearing you like a furry ear-ring.”

I’ll let this last memory sink in, then I’ll continue: “Don’t beat yourself up about that either. Sure my ear only bled a little. And I did manage to get back to sleep several hours later”.

All this he will listen to while eating. Or if I’m lucky, he will break from his food long enough to give me a blank, pitiless gaze.

Neighbour

The natural promiscuity of the species aside, it’s possible that the thing Pete most likes about the neighbour’s house is that it doesn’t have another cat in it.  That can’t be said for ours, where not only must he share space with the ancient Jerry, but he may also have noticed that the latter is getting more attention of late, including a special prescription-food, given only to him.

Jerry’s story is a cautionary tale for anyone who allows someone else’s cat to spend time in the house.

When we first encountered him, nearly 20 years ago, he was owned by a different neighbour. Then he started hanging around our place a lot, a habit we thoughtlessly indulged.

He once even brought us a tasteful present – a half-dead mouse – which may have been some kind of preliminary contract.

Nominal owner

In any case, years later, the cat’s nominal owner moved away, but he was deemed too old to follow.

So he devolved first into collective ownership before choosing our house for what we assumed would be his last few years.

That was about a decade ago – half a century in cat time. But no doubt helped by an extremely fussy diet (which includes an absolute refusal to drink tap water, so that during dry spells we have to buy him bottles), he has remained indestructible until recently.

True, around the time Pete arrived – it may not have been a coincidence – Jerry started to look a bit shook for the first time. So we took him to the vet then and, sure enough, he was given only weeks to live. That was 3½ years ago, since when he and the grim reaper have somehow eluded each other.

This is no fault of Pete, who has made many attempts to introduce them. In fact, when I say Jerry is “shook”, this may be literally true, because at least twice a day, his junior companion will jump him from the back of the sofa, or other vantage point, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck until we intervene.

Lately we’ve been more than usually protective of the old-timer, because the vet has again declared him at death’s cat-flap (hence the prescription-food).

And maybe the added time Pete has spent on the bad step recently is another reason he’s flirting with emigration.

He can hardly be aware of Jerry’s prognosis.

But it may have reached the stage where, in Pete’s eyes, one of them has to go.