Dusty 3

My Dear Princess & Dear Fellows,

Flashback. Come back with me baaaaaaaaack to 1988. 

(Imagine the special effects, colours are getting swirly, someone is playing the harp, a DeLorean leaves flaming tyre tracks).

So there I was, in Scarborough. A callow youth of 19. I'm walking across a car park with a fish supper and out of NOWHERE this cat appears. 

Meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow

That was the cat. Not me.

So the little cat was starving hungry, covered in knotty fur and DESPERATE for my fish supper. Needless to say, I gave it to her. Soozle arrived - I guess she must have been parked there - and I explained the situation to her. We picked up the pusscat and plopped her in the boot of the car.

She went OFF. She was not HAPPY. She HOWLED. But we got her back to our flat and let her loose.

I should explain that my beloved cat Bonny, who I'd had since I was about six years old, had just died. And there was a kitty-shaped hole in my heart.

Anyway, we fed the little cat some proper cat food and she WOLFED it. Then she effing well SPRAYED it - in the form of cat-diarrhoea - up the wall. Holy SHIT she smelled bad. 

Oh, and here's another funny thing, Soozle's sister Jo and her little boy (I guess he was about 2 at the time) were staying with us. Not for a fun visit but because Jo's drunken husband had been threatening to beat her up in a jealous rage.

So THAT was a fun weekend. Following poocat around with a damp cloth, trying to keep a two-year-old from putting his hands anywhere she had been and Chris The Drunken Husband BANGING on our front door in a stupor and screaming "WHY JO? WHYYYYYY????"

Things calmed down after a while. The cops arrested Chris and he dried out. Jo & Luke got their own place and moved out of ours. The little cat's diarrhoea stopped. I think she just wasn't used to proper food at first. 

We put a notice in the paper (ah, those pre-internet days) and someone told us she had been a stray for ages. We brushed and washed and cut out the knots in her fur and found she was actually a little tabby cat, just like my Bonny. It was like I had been gifted a new pusscat.

We called her "Dusty" - because she was when I found her - and she lived for about 3 years. She was actually quite old, we found out. I think her previous owner must have got rid of her because she never did poo sitting down. Always standing up so it always went up the wall until we hit on the idea of replacing her litter box with a litter crate with high sides. Although I have to say, cleaning it was never pleasant.

Years later, I got a 2nd cat called Dusty. This was Pickett's cat and Dusty 2 came with the flat I rented from Pickett. Pickett was moving out to live with her fiance and Pete was not into cats. This was after he reached over in the middle of the night to take a drink from his glass of water and found Dusty with her nose in it.

Dusty 2 was such a sweet little thing. Obviously the runt of the litter, she couldn't purr properly (she had nasal issues and did it with her mouth open) and was very uncoordinated for a cat. I lost count of the times she simply fell off the couch. But we loved her. That was 1999.

In the end, Cazza and me gave Dusty 2 (and her brother Ripley) to Soozle (by now my ex-wife). We couldn't keep them. After Pickett sold her place we couldn't find another place that would take cats. Plus, Soozle lived out in Cramond, perfect cat country. Dusty 2 loved it there. She died around 10 years ago, fat and happy and still purring through her mouth.

Which brings me to this evening. It all felt too familiar. I was walking home through the botanic gardens with some McDonalds for company when -  

Meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow

This little fluffy cat came out of nowhere. DESPERATE for my Six Chicken McNuggets (I had only bought them for Punky). I broke them up and fed them to her, but still she wanted more so I gave her half my burger as well.

I left her there, but it bothered me. She was skinny and her fur was all knotty. So when I got home, I took a cat-carrier and then wandered back up to the botanic gardens. I kind of hoped she was gone. I knew the boys would not be happy with me if I rocked home this evening with a little cat. So I was sort of relieved but also sort of sad when I got to the spot where I'd found her and she wasn't there. I was just turning to go home when -

Meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow

As it turns out she was now hassling OTHER people for food. Some young couple who were talking to her and stroking her. I asked them if she was theirs but they said not. So I opened the cat carrier, threw in a bit of burger and that was it. Cat. Rescue.

It was pandemonium when I first got home. Cazza is out with IRD Linda so I was on my own literally herding cats for 10 minutes. The little stray flew into a panic. She was FLYING around the flat trying to make good her escape. Punky and Jasper were in hot pursuit, hissing and growling and with fat tails. 

See, I know they did not want to hurt her. They are good boys. But she didn't know that. Actually, they are as frightened as she is. However, eventually I got all three where I wanted them. Separated.

Here I am two hours later and the house is quiet. Stray kitty is in the spare bedroom and I have closed the door, so the boys can't bother her. I gave her more food which she swallowed without chewing in two minutes flat. I've now given her MORE food, some water and a litter tray and have closed the door behind her. Hopefully she will sleep and calm down.

As for the boys, they have been freaked out and creeping around all evening. It is like I have brought home Jason Vorhees or Freddy Krueger or something. They are keeping low to the ground and every move is deliberate. I don't like to see them like this, but really, what choice did I have?

Tomorrow I will get in touch with the SPCA and see if they can take her so they can check her chip and try to find her real parents, or failing that, new parents. Of course that raises the question of what happens if they can't. 

I think we already KNOW what will happen in that eventuality. Maybe then I will give her a proper name. But for the moment I'm assuming she is just a temporary guest. So Dusty it is.

S.

p.s. It's now 4 hours later. I just gave Dusty another bowl of food (her third) and once again she WOLFED it. Cazza has posted her picture on "Lost Cats of Wellington". I have to say, she is the sweetest little thing, purring and whirling for me. She seems like a well-loved kitty. I hope we find her people.