Farewell Matty

While Mr Flum and I were at church Matty turned up at home, where Miss Flum invited him/her it into the living room for a snack and a wee rest on a chair. It seemed reasonably settled and we had time to observe it over an hour or two.

The good news is that the lump of matted fur has come off, although that must have been painful. However, we were still not happy with its condition, even allowing for the heavy rain earlier, it really did need a thorough grooming but it firmly expressed its objection to any help from us in that department, swiping out with very sharp claws. Added to this, a wide yawn exposed teeth covered in tartar.

So we did what we thought best and contacted the SSPCA, and Collection Officer Jenny arrived to assess the situation, checking our earlier photos and to have a close look at the poor animal. This, at least, was the theory. Matty was having none of it, writhing, spitting and swearing blue murder, using language our douce felines would not recognise, while an anxious Hazel watched through the patio window. Nevertheless, Jenny's gauntlet, blanket and expertise won through and a furious Matty succumbed to a thorough frisking.

It transpired that, although there was no injury from the original matting, (no maggoty wounds) there is still matting down its back and, if Matty is feral, which this behaviour suggested, it is probable that this situation would be repeated. After consultation with her colleague at base, Jenny was permitted to take Matty away for veterinary attention. I imagine the first - and simplest- action will be to check for a microchip.

Although firmly held in Jenny's grasp, it was not prudent to attempt to ascertain whether Matty is a boy or a girl: the front end was savage enough without attempting to examine the rear; there is only so much indignity a cat can endure.

So we signed it over and it was placed in a crush carrier to be driven away. And, despite the reassurance that, if the vet considers Matty to be feral, it will be returned to this territory, I can't help feeling a little bereft.