For reasons
too involved to go into here, Anushka, our cat, was re-homed in Nairobi early 2019 with a
friend of Him Outdoors. Understandably, there was much heartache
about this decision but her New Papa was extremely caring and shared with us frequent
photographs and reports. One anxious message concerned how much she slept. He Googled to find out what was normal because
he couldn’t believe that a cat could sleep 21 out of 24 hours and was convinced she wasn’t well.
Life jinked
through a chicane and we found ourselves back in Nairobi 12 months later,
hosted by our friend. HO was very firm before we arrived – absolutely NO gooey,
emotional reunions, I am no longer her parent, whatever her routine and however
she is being cared for is none of my business and I was to stand firmly back –
she is the adored pet of another.
I’d like to
tell you that she bounded downstairs in frantic recognition, loudly greeting us
with her familiar refrain “Where have you been? I’m hungry. I need a brush.” Actually, she did just that, but it was unquestionably apparent that there wasn’t the
faintest hint of recognition. She was looking for her New Papa and when we
retired for the evening, she trotted off with him. There’s no denying that it
hurt but after all, who could blame her? And New Papa absolutely worshipped
her, crooning ‘hello princess, how is my darling’ and regaling us with stories
of her super cat powers.
When an opportunity arose for us to drive back to South Africa rather than fly, suddenly there were subtle hints threaded through conversation. Maybe not so
subtle because HO noticed and brought to my attention that we were being
offered our cat back. New Papa’s life had moved on apace and he no longer
needed her cat witchcraft and healing purrs. And as we were driving, surely
there was room for a furry?
We put up a
token resistance – we aren’t the sort of people to say ‘thanks for having her,
we’ll take her back now’ after all his kindness. But the deal was done and
dusted after two rodent incidents.
Rats were a
bit of a problem in the home and the rat traps kept busy. One evening over dinner
the most appalling noise erupted, preceding Anushka entering the lounge at full
pelt. Bristled to twice her size and Olympic sprinting around the perimeter she
attempted to get rid of the large, sticky mouse pad (nope, not a computer
thingy, a rodent trap) firmly attached to her rear foot. Four adults helpless
with laughter took longer than necessary to catch her and detach it.
A day or so
later I was summoned to a conference. Apparently, a brazen rat had settled
itself on top of the fridge. A small, bar fridge not one of those humungous
reach-for-the-skies types. Rattigan comfortably looked down his nose at
Anushka, neatly sat next to the fridge about 30 centimetres below. Completely
and utterly oblivious, she contently watched her humans making breakfast,
unaware that her blissful ignorance wasn’t going down well with the landlord.
Over coffee,
New Papa cleared his throat and approached the subject. “I’m really happy for
you to take her, she doesn’t do much does she? And she is useless with pest
control.”
She was
fired! Can you believe it? New Papa was happy to buy cat food if she’d hold her end
up and get rid of the rodents but no one had ever explained to the princess that
she had any function other than looking pretty. A job? Work? Expend energy
beyond a luxuriant stretching out to allow tummy brushing? Not on your nellie so
Anushka received her marching orders and in disgrace was loaded into the car.
